by Jessa James
Ally steps inside, opening the door into a sunny living room. The whole place is bare, but it’s not hard to imagine it full of furniture. A couch by the wall, bookshelves on either side of the window. I guarantee that I look like a little fool, standing there with my mouth agape, letting my mind run away with me.
“Whoa,” I say, because that’s all that comes to mind. I look at Emma, and find her smiling.
“This place… this is cute,” she says, releasing my hand to walk past the living room.
I am right on her heels, walking into an in between space, followed by the all-white kitchen. The bedrooms and bathroom branch off the in between room. The ceilings aren’t that tall, maybe only a foot taller than me in some places, but I am willing to overlook that.
Emma pushes open the French doors that lead into the back yard. She looks back at me with such a joyful expression. “It’s perfect.”
And it is. There is a patio area with a fire pit in the middle on one side, and a big open area on the other side. As promised, there are two big shady trees in the back yard, arching over everything.
“You can almost see yourself throwing a party here,” Emma murmurs.
“Or putting together a swing set right over here,” I say, pointing to the empty area. Emma and I trade glances, her eyes widening a little.
“You think so?” she says, flushing a little.
I glance at Ally. “This is the one.”
“Jameson—” Emma says. “It’s the second place you’ve seen. Be reasonable.”
I look her dead in the eye, unwavering. “When I see what I want, I’m going to get it. Once I’ve made up my mind about something, that’s it. There isn’t even any point in discussing it.”
Emma blushes bright red, catching my double meaning easily. “You should still look around a little. Sleep on it for a few days.”
I grab her by the waist, drawing her close so that I can kiss her lips, slow and sensual. Emma squirms a little because Ally is here, but I refuse to bend, holding her in place. When I release her lips, she’s a little breathless.
I look down into her eyes. “It’s decided.”
She peers up at me. “Is it?”
I give her another kiss, then turn her loose. I look to Ally.
“I have to call my finance guy, but this is the house.”
She looks surprised, but pleased. “Okay. This is the house! Yay!”
Emma and I follow her back through the house, and I feel immensely satisfied.
21
Emma
Jameson rolls over in my bed in the middle of the night, rousing me. “Hey. Wake up.”
“Hmmm?” I ask, drowsy. My eyes are closed, though I’m not fully asleep yet. He only let me go to sleep half an hour ago, but obviously I’m the only one who did a lot of resting. “What?”
“I have to tell you something, and I need you to be totally awake when I do.” His voice is low and urgent.
I crack my eyelids, looking at him. He looks messy and yummy, if only I wasn’t quite so exhausted. Actually, now that I think about it, he looks tired too. “Are you okay?”
He smiles, but he seems nervous. “Yeah. I just… I love you.”
His words steal my breath away. I stare at him for a second, trying to decide if my sleep addled brain made up this little bit of fantasy or not. J looks uncomfortable for a second.
“Are you going to say anything?” he asks.
“I— Are you sure?” I ask. I desperately want to tell him that I love him, but only if he’s one hundred percent certain.
He frowns. “Am I sure? What kind of question is that? Of course I’m sure.”
My eyes immediately well up, and my voice grows thick. “You’re really, totally sure?”
J wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Absolutely, completely, totally sure. I love you, Emma. I think I have loved you for longer than I care to admit, even to myself.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper, my eyes overflowing. “I love you too. I’ve loved you since I was old enough to know what love was, I think.”
I press my lips to his, aware of the tears flowing down my face. His taste is so familiar to me by now, and I find that more comforting than anything.
He rolls me over so that I’m on top of him, and I straddle him. Even as I cry happy tears, I pull his cock inside me, riding him as intensely as I know how.
He kisses away my tears as best he can and thrusts up inside me, using his hand to rub my clit. We come together, crying out, emboldened by the words we’ve just learned to say to one another.
As Jameson and I lie together, our breathing still ragged, I test out the new phrase.
“I love you,” I whisper into his jaw.
He looks at me. “And I love you.”
I slowly drift off to sleep with a smile on my face.
It’s just dinner with Gunnar, I tell myself nervously. As Jameson leads me into the casual dining restaurant, I straighten my skirt and try to remind myself to play it cool.
I look around at the brightly painted walls and the many leather booths. The hostess brightens when she sees Jameson and waves us on into the dining room. Apparently Jameson and his brothers know this Mexican place pretty well.
“Hey, you two,” Gunnar says, sprawled out in one of the back booths. His eyes drop to where Jameson holds my hand, widening for just a moment.
Jameson doesn’t skip a beat, moving to sit across from his brother. I scoot into the booth, my cheeks turning red.
“Hey Gunnar,” I greet him.
Gunnar looks between us. “You’re an item then, huh?”
Jameson stretches his arms out, putting one around me. He’s visibly tense. “Yep. Is that going to be a problem?”
“With me? Nope.” Gunnar grins. “Mazel Tov.”
Jameson relaxes a little. “Okay then.”
I pick up my menu. “Are their margaritas any good here? I think we could all use one.”
Jameson gives me an appreciative squeeze. “They’re excellent.”
The waiter comes over and Jameson orders a pitcher of margaritas on the rocks. We also all order food, and I opt for the chicken fajitas.
“That sounds good. Can I get those too, but with steak?” Jameson asks.
Gunnar goes for a ground beef burrito with mole sauce. When the waiter immediately returns with our margaritas, there is some shuffling and pouring. It’s funny how the two brothers divide and conquer the smallest task, with Gunnar setting up the glasses and Jameson meting out a little of the yellowish liquid into each glass.
“Thanks,” I say when Gunnar hands me my glass.
I sit back, taking a sip. I pucker a little, as the liquid is both sweet and sour. It’s also got a pretty strong tequila taste.
Gunnar sips his and sighs, audibly contented. He looks between us, as if trying to figure something out.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says with a shake of his head. He looks hesitant.
I glance at Jameson, who is studying Gunnar’s face.
“Spit it out. I can tell that you want to say something.” Jameson pushes his margarita around on the table top.
Gunnar pulls a face, leaning forward. He motions to the two of us. “How long have you guys been… you know, doing this?”
“Two months. Almost three by now, I guess.” Jameson says it with his voice full of contempt, like he’s expecting Gunnar to start a fight.
Under the table, I put my hand on Jameson’s knee. We exchange glances, and I try to silently tell him to take it easy.
“Does Asher know?” Gunnar asks. When we don’t answer right away, he sort of shakes his head. “Of course not. He would go ape shit if he did. Not that I’m saying that is reasonable, but…”
“You’re the first person we’re telling together,” I cut in, to stem the flow of angry words that I’m sure Jameson wants to unleash. “You’re like the starter home, and Asher is like the big lavish mansion. You know, baby steps.”
; Gunnar nods, his brows knitting. He looks so much like Jameson just then, all brooding and grumpy.
“You two look alike,” I blurt out, changing the topic.
That draws two dark gazes my way.
“Well, we are brothers,” Jameson says, sipping his drink.
“Though I try to deny it,” adds Gunnar. “It’s hard when you are one of three clones, essentially.”
I seize on that topic. “Do you guys have any family photos? I want to know who you look like.”
Jameson scowls. “We look like our dad. Except for the eyes… dad had blue eyes. We got our eyes from our mom.”
“And yes, Jameson has pictures,” Gunnar adds. “He just doesn’t like to show them around.”
I look to Jameson. “You’d show them to me, wouldn’t you?”
“If that’s what you want.” Jameson looks extremely uncomfortable.
I bite my lip. “I want to know everything that there is to know about you. That means that I want to know about your past. Even the unpleasant parts.”
Jameson scoffs. “Alright.”
My eyes widen. “I mean it! I want to know it all.”
Just then the waiter brings our platters of fajitas and Gunnar’s burrito, each one sizzlingly hot and smelling like heaven. Eager for an interruption, Jameson pretends to be very interested in how the fajitas go together.
I make eye contact with Gunnar, who just shrugs and picks up a tortilla from the basket in the middle of the table.
“Where are you guys from? Like, I know that you’ve lived here for ages, but where are your parents from? And your parents parents?”
Jameson shoves a big tortilla with steak and peppers into his mouth, so that leaves Gunnar to pick up the slack.
“Uhhh… I think our dad was from Montana. Our mom, who knows.” Gunnar shrugs.
I take a tortilla, thinking. “Wait, so like… you have no idea if you even have other family? No one has done any research to see if you have any other grandparents or at least cousins floating around out there in the world?”
J and Gunnar shake their heads. I’m a little blown away.
“How is that possible? I mean, when your grandmother died, you didn’t even check to see if there was an aunt or an uncle out there?” I ask, growing a little frustrated.
“Nope,” Jameson says. He looks at his plate, avoiding eye contact with me.
“She’s right, you know,” Gunnar says, taking a sip of his drink. “I mean, not that we should have done anything differently. I know that you had a tough enough time as it was, Jameson. But we should do some poking around, see if there are cousins or something.”
Jameson seems unconvinced. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You could have a whole bunch of relatives and just not know it,” I say. “I’m imagining a whole room full of men that look exactly like you guys do.”
“Hmmmph,” is all Jameson will say on the subject.
I dig into my food, letting Gunnar and Jameson change the subject to what bars have opened recently in the area. I definitely won’t forget about this though…
I’m already making plans to find a historian who can search what little they know about their past. Maybe I’ll do it as a surprise, and then if I find anything worth knowing, I can present it to Jameson as a birthday present or something.
My relationship with Jameson and the fact that we haven’t confronted Asher yet is completely lost in the tumult of conversation for now.
22
Jameson
“What if I get stung again, though?” Emma says, wrinkling her nose.
I’m carrying the surf boards as we hit the beach. It’s almost three weeks from the last time I tried to get Emma on a surf board. She tried putting it off yet again, but I wouldn’t have it.
I need to surf, and so here we are. I squint at Emma as we walk down the beach in the early morning light. She’s wearing a dark blue bikini and carrying her wet suit; with her dark hair and tiny waist, I think she looks like she could easily be a movie star.
I don’t tell her that, though. I don’t want her to start thinking about her appearance, so I just comfort her fears instead.
“You’ll be fine,” I say, hefting the boards. “You’re going to surf today. I’m going to surf today. And then we’ll fuck like two bunny rabbits. Easy peasy.”
She pulls a face, but my words seem to have calmed her a little bit. “We’ll see about the surfing part. You have way more confidence than I do.”
“It’s not confidence, it’s just knowledge of the facts.” We reach a good stopping point, just out of reach of the lapping waves. I set down the boards on the untouched sand. “I know that you can stand and surf. We have been out here too many times for anybody to get in your way, even a jellyfish.”
She shudders. “Let’s hope so. I would really like to feel what it’s like to surf, but I definitely don’t need a refresher course on a jellyfish sting.”
“Good, cause I left the vinegar in the car this time.” I wink at her. “Come on, let’s get down to business before the sun gets any higher in the sky.”
I pick up one of the surf boards and offer it to her. She takes it, but she lags behind me as I head out into the dark surf with the other board under my arm. I can feel how much she wants to resist, in her heavy steps and her grumpy expression.
“Come on,” I chide her gently. I hit the cold morning water, splashing on in it to my knees. “Think of how good it will feel to tell everyone that you can surf.”
Emma shoots a skeptical glance at me, but I just hurry further out, sinking into the freezing tide. When I get to my waist, I turn and look at Emma. Emma is almost in up to her chest. I squint, wondering how I almost forgot about our difference in height.
I cast my gaze about, eyeing the distance from the shore. “This is good for your first time.”
She looks a little green. “Uh huh…”
“Remember, you just have to get on the board,” I say, holding my board by the end. “And then try not to fall.”
Emma takes her board by the end, looking behind us. “What am I looking for in a wave?”
“The surf is perfect right now. Pretty much anything you catch that’s big enough will do it.”
She looks for a minute, then points to a wave that’s headed our way. “Like that one?”
“That works. Are you ready?”
She half-nods, distracted by getting on top of her surf board. The wave goes by, breaking right before it reaches us, while Emma is still not ready.
“Crap,” she mutters.
“It’s okay. There will be another one in just a minute.”
She heaves a frustrated sigh, straddling her surfboard. It’s kind of cute, how she has no patience for surfing. Outside of law school, she’s not used to doing anything that she has to work at. Seeing her actually try and fail is… well, it reminds me that she is human.
“There’s another one coming,” I point out. I don’t even bother to get on my board. This is her time to shine.
The wave comes in, and she looks like she is fiercely concentrating. As the wave picks her up, I see her flounder a little, and then she falls off the board. The wave goes over her head, and I wince.
She comes back up to the surface, spluttering. She’s a little baffled. “I fell!”
“I saw,” I say, making my way over to her. I scan her for injuries. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Only my pride was hurt,” she quips. “I’m going to paddle out a bit and try again.”
I grin. “Atta girl.”
I drift in her wake as she goes out a little further, then gets astride the board again. As I watch, she waits for a wave to swell beneath her. It begins to propel her toward the shore, and she rises on the surf board.
I hold my breath as Emma makes it to her feet, whooshing past me. As she goes, she shouts to me. “I’m doing it! Jameson, I’m really surfing!”
She looks at me instead of looking at the water before her. She wipes out big time, fal
ling sideways off of her board. I’m already swimming towards her when she resurfaces, her hair plastered to the side of her skull.
Although she just fell, she’s all smiles when she sees me.
“I did it! I am terrible at surfing, but at least I did it.” She grins at me. I close in for a hug, picking her up.
Her arms settle around my neck, and she looks up at me.
“Ready to go again?” I ask.
“You know what? I think I’m good,” she says with a shrug. “I would honestly rather sit and watch you surf while I have a drink.”
I chuckle. “That’s it, huh? You just had to make sure you could do it?”
“Precisely.” She squints up at me. “I feel fulfilled.”
“Well, alright then,” I say. “Do you mind if I surf for a little while?”
“Definitely not.” She releases her grip on my shoulders, stepping back. “I’ll be on the beach, doing a little yoga.”
As I watch, she turns and heads for the shore, her hips swaying. I shake my head and make my way further out into the dark blue ocean.
23
Jameson
Later, after we’ve fucked ourselves senseless, I come back into the bedroom with a big Nalgene full of water. Emma is sprawled out on her stomach, completely naked.
I don’t know what it says about me, but the fact that I can see faint traces of my handprints on her ass turns me the fuck on. She turns her head to the side, her eyes following me into the room. I really did give her a good workout, and I’m not even done.
I try to ignore my hardening cock and focus on caring for Emma right now.
“Drink,” I order her, putting the Nalgene on the bed in front of her face.
She lifts her eyebrows, but rolls onto her side and picks up the Nalgene bottom. Unscrewing the cap, she chugs a quarter of the water. I watch as a couple of drops escape to dribble down the side of her mouth, one tracing its way down her throat.
