Our knees are now touching as he inches closer to me on the couch. He puts down his bottle and places his hand in front of us, palm up, an invitation.
"You're the only person that knows me. All of me," he says, his words powerful but his tone soft.
I place my hand in his, but doubt echoes in my voice. "No, I don't. I know the seventeen year old Jesse. You, sitting in front of me, sometimes you feel like a completely different person."
"It's just me, Mickey. I just have better clothes and more money in my wallet."
"I don't care about that."
"I know," he says through the faintest of smiles.
“And that’s not what I’m talking about,” I continue, placing my bottle on the floor. “The only time I feel like you’re my Jesse is when you let your guard down and allow yourself to be vulnerable. My Jesse never struggled to open himself up to me. I loved that you felt like you could talk to me. Now, it’s like you don’t want to share anything.”
“I know, I’m working on it, Mickey. I’ve kept things bottled up for so long, it’ll take some time. But, I want to be open with you again, if you can wait?” He lifts his hand to slide a stray strand of hair from my face, instantly doubling the tension.
“Longer than I already have?”
“I know, I’m a dick for even asking.” His words come fast but staggered, unrehearsed and honest. “But, there’s no going back now. I swear that we’ll work this crap out. I will work my crap out. It’s going to be hard and I’m scared shitless, but I have to do this for you, for me, for us, so that we can be together like I want more than anything in the world. If you can just…bear with me?” He tucks his imaginary hair behind his ear and lowers his head. “If you can’t…then I can go.”
“Don’t go,” I plead without hesitation.
Leaning in so that his mouth is mere inches from my own, he breathes heavily. His proximity entices me to close the gap between us, but when I lean in I can feel the faint shake of nerves coursing through his body. His head is down and his eyes are on our interlocked hands rather than my eyes. It takes me a second to see the single tear descending down his face.
He’s terrified.
Terrified of what he is promising and terrified to bare his soul.
It both pains me and humbles me to know that he is willing to do this for me; to open up like he has done to no other. Part of me feels as though I should stop this in its tracks. I don’t want him to confront his issues if it’s going to bring him so much anguish. But, I know firsthand that it’s unhealthy to keep everything bottled up. He needs to confront his demons, and if I’m the stimulant he needs to do it then I’m glad I can help.
“Tell me to go," he whispers heavily.
I wipe the tear from his cheek and kiss the dampness left behind. My fingers move to stroke the back of his head and his body sags into the comfort.
“Stay,” I beg.
“What?”
“Stay," I repeat, but our lips have collided before I can even finish sounding out the command. Our mouths move with the same passion found in his words. They feed off of our mutual need for this. He needs this for comfort, I need this for reassurance.
Leaning me back until I meet the sofa, Jesse continues his wet kisses down the length of my neck, the pace easing until his mouth and tongue are at a standstill at my breast. I arch my back in immediate response, needing the pleasurable ache to deepen. He teases my vest over my head, only releasing his lips to let it pass. My eyes are closed as I concentrate on the feel of him, rather than my nakedness.
I’m clawing at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. Taking the hint, he undoes the top few buttons and pulls it over his head before removing both his pants and underwear. The heat of his bare body is enough to pacify my impatience and I allow my fingers to glide up and down the hard muscles of his back, soothing his slowly diminishing pain.
Suddenly without his mouth on my body, I cast open my eyes. He’s knelt above me, his eyes descending over my breasts, over my stomach and to the waistband of my sweatpants. Seeing the profound need in his eyes and the magnitude of his arousal cools my rising insecurities about my exposed body. He wants me so badly. His hands soon follow his eyes and he slowly slithers my pants and underwear down and away from my legs.
“I can’t be away from you anymore, sweets,” he says as he lowers himself onto my body.
“Then don’t be,” I whisper. I lock my lips to his and lock my hands behind his head, deepening the kiss.
Slow fingers snake down my body, smoothing the curve of my breast, manipulating the hardness of my nipple, and tickling over my stomach. His touch leaves goose bumps in its wake. I’m alive with desire for him; both heated and chilled to the bone. My pleasure is almost painful as I yearn to be impossibly close to him. By the time his hands reach the apex of my thighs, I’m already begging for him. My hips pull up to meet him as his fingers work slowly but expertly on my centre. When I can’t handle anymore I pull him to me, into me, and he sinks in gradually, allowing for his impressive size.
Working slowly but passionately he builds up to a steady pace, pushing me closer to the edge with each grind of his unforgiving hips. He showers me with kisses and calls me beautiful in a hundred different ways. I feel loved, I feel cherished, and I feel needed. I don’t want the magic to stop but at the same time I can’t bear to carry on. I’m at my peak, every inch of my body hypersensitive to his touch, and my insides throbbing with pressure. I’m riding along the edge of control and the smallest thing is going to tip me over.
“I love you, sweets. I love you, so much.”
And I’m falling. I’m freefalling and bucking all the way down. My pulsating contractions and wild shivering pull Jesse down with me, and through his trembles he holds me like he never wants to let go.
I’m aware of my alarm clock flashing 2:04am but I don't care. How can I sleep when no dream could ever be as perfect as this reality? I am lying in my bed, having finally found our way upstairs, with the love of my life, our limbs entwined and our eyes locked. We are bathing in the afterglow of another round of love making. Thank God he’s holding onto me because if he weren't, I’d float away.
Moving from lying on his side next to me, Jesse now hovers above me, baring his weight on his elbows. My pulse quickens at the possibility of yet another encore.
"You need to sleep," he whispers as he runs his nose down mine.
"Are you going?" My arms desperately tighten around him.
"Yes…to the bathroom," he jokes as he shuffles off the bed. Gloriously naked, he bends down to grab his boxers and I enjoy the show as he tugs them on.
"First door on the left," I whisper. He sticks two thumbs up and creeps out of the door on tip toes.
I allow my head to fall back onto the pillow and close my eyes. Not to welcome sleep but to enjoy this moment, this feeling, and to count my blessings. That was the most beautiful way to seal our love and I want to savor every second of it. Sex with Jesse is generally amazing, but this was something else. Like we finally both gave in. And yes. I heard his words, his declaration. But, despite the happiness they brought me, and the fact that they are mutuality felt, I can’t help but feel that they were simply the byproduct of fantastic sex. I can’t rely on words said within the heat of the moment.
The floorboards at the bottom of my bed creek and I look up to find this magnificent man. Potentially, my man. The light from my bedside lamp has dusted him in an alluring glow, highlighting the form of his athletic body. He crawls onto the bed but comes no further than my feet. I hitch up onto my elbows so I can study his face, but his eyes are scanning my body and I can't read them.
"You’re so beautiful, sweets." His voice is content and low. "You were beautiful before, but now? If ten years can do this to you then roll on twenty twenty-two."
My blushing cheeks are hidden in the weak light, but my sudden rigidness as his hands find one of my feet, is not. I want to kick him away, anticipating being tickled, but he ju
st holds it loosely, lifting it to examine the length of my leg. I feel like I should pull the sheets over me in embarrassment at being so closely scrutinized, but I don't want to break his intensity.
Steely eyes move up my leg, closely followed by the soft touch of his hand which strokes my thigh and then examines my stomach. I flinch with insecurity as his fingers circle just above my bikini line. The serenity of his face is masked briefly by frown lines.
"What’s this from?"
"It's a surgery scar," I explain, knowing immediately what he’s referring to. His frown deepens. "From my caesarean section."
After a quiet moment of contemplation he shifts his body so that he’s once again beside me, ending his inspection but keeping the contact with his hand placed softly over the scar.
"Was it planned?" The frown is gone but the quizzing has not.
"What, the c-section or the actual pregnancy?" I release my elbows and lay back down so I can look up at his perplexed face.
"Both."
"Then, neither. There were complications during labor and Benjamin’s heartbeat dropped, so I was rushed into surgery." His breathing catches but I carry on. "And no, he was most definitely not planned. Just…a very happy accident."
I force a smile in the vain hope of pulling us from the possible depth this conversation is heading.
"Does Benjamin see his father often?"
"No, he’s never met his father. I'm not even sure that Sebastian knows he exists."
"Sebastian?" he repeats.
"Yes, Sebastian."
"Was it a one night stand?"
"No, it was not a one night stand, we’d been together a long time," I say as loud as I can without breaking a whisper, offense ringing out from every word.
"I didn't mean it like that. I just…I wondered why he wasn't still around.” He looks contrite but the hurt lingers. “Sorry, that was a ridiculous thing to say."
My scar is uncovered as his hand moves to mine and lifts it to his mouth. Delicate kisses adorn each knuckle before he places my hand to his cheek and keeps it there. Forgiven.
"He isn't around because when he found out I was pregnant he wanted nothing more to do with either of us." I shrug, not feeling as bothered by this as I once was. "He expected me to have a termination, but I couldn’t, so I left him. I tried to reach him but I guess he moved.”
Jesses body is rigid, even the hand that holds mine to his face feels too tight. Wriggling it free I turn my body to face him fully, but his eyes are staring down at the pillow and his frown has returned.
"What an asshole," he mutters.
"What? No, it's fine. It was a long time ago. I don't feel bitter towards Seb anymore, so neither should you." My fingers line his jaw and I tilt my head to try and meet his gaze.
"Not him, me."
"What do you mean?” I ask, confused. “It's not your fault."
"I should have been there. It sickens me to think you went through all that by yourself." His gaze finally meets mine and he leans his head closer so that our foreheads are touching.
"I wasn't alone, I had my parents. You don’t need to worry about my past, Jesse." I kiss his lips, faintly, to test the waters.
"Can I worry for your future?" he asks. His lips respond with more strength, but I pull away softly placing my fingertips over his mouth.
"If you are in my future then there is nothing to worry about." Removing my fingers I replace them with my wanting lips.
"I love you, Mickey," he whispers between kisses, his voice breathy. "I always have."
Hearing these words again, the same words, but said by a more sober, clear thinking Jesse, brings me to tears, silent tears that burn my eyes and slip quietly down my cheeks. These precious words are everything I’ve wanted from him for a decade. They repair the wound my heart has been crippled by for years. I’m momentarily healed. Enough to allow me to utter the words that I’ve wanted to scream in his face from the moment we were reunited.
"I have always, and will always love you, Jesse."
And with this declaration finally voiced, we go on to prove our love, to seal it, again and again.
Chapter 14
A warm glow pours through my window, waking me from the shortest sleep ever. Shortest and yet sweetest. I’ve woken up still smiling. As my eyes attempt to adjust to the now radiant room I reach across, searching for the man responsible for my morning bliss. When I find nothing, my eyes open wide with panic. The only explanation my damaged mind can come up with is that he has disappeared again. My panic is subdued though, when I see his designer shoes strewn across my bedroom floor. I physically relax, knowing that he’s just in the bathroom. Laying back down I wait for his return.
What an amazing and unexpected night. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Jesse would return to Starling, especially not for me. What changed his mind? What made him realize that what he needed was what he left ten years ago? I can’t begin to understand. I’m not sure that I even care. He’s here now, where he should be, indefinitely, I hope.
Abruptly, I’m aware of voices downstairs. I glance at the bedside table and my body jolts from shock at the time. It’s 9:10am and that means that Benjamin is most definitely awake. I jump out of bed and jostle into my dressing gown so quickly that I get a head rush and have to steady myself against the wall. It has to just be Benjamin watching the television downstairs. It can’t be Jesse. How would I begin to explain Jesse’s presence to him? I’ve never had a man in this house and I have certainly never introduced a prospective partner to him before.
I wouldn’t know where to start.
No, Jesse is just in the bathroom and Benjamin is watching TV like he has done before if I’ve overslept. I repeat this like a mantra in my head until I’m at the top of the stairs and can clearly identify Jesse’s voice. Shit.
What do I do? What do I say? Am I a terrible mom for allowing this to happen? Jesse has only just declared his love for me. If there is any hope for a relationship then it is still to be discussed. Benjamin should not have to deal with someone who is a potential flight risk. My mind is playing over possible explanations as to why Jesse is here so early in the morning when my panic is paused at the sound of laughter echoing from the kitchen. I tread warily down the stairs, my feet tiptoeing so that I can listen to the conversation undisturbed by my presence.
“Your mom’s cooking can’t be that bad,” Jesse chuckles. He sounds carefree and completely at ease. Not how I thought he’d react when meeting my son.
“Oh, it’s bad.” Benjamin is giggling too and his melodic laughter is exactly what I need to loosen up a little.
“Well, it’s a good job I cooked this morning.”
“These eggs are even better than Grandma’s,” Benji exclaims with a mouthful.
I enter the living area and witness a scene that has been plucked from my prayers. It’s so charming that tears threaten my eyes. Both Jesse and Benjamin are sat at the kitchen table, eating from overflowing plates. They’re both wearing huge smiles across their faces and I embrace the happiness that emits from within my kitchen.
“I hope you’re not bad mouthing my cooking. I do believe it’s served you well the last six years.” Both sets of eyes shoot to me in unison as I walk over to the table.
“Mom! Look! Jesse cooked breakfast for us!” Benjamin’s little face is alight with excitement and I wonder if it’s because of the cooked breakfast or the early morning company. I kiss him on top of his head and take a seat next to him, glancing questioningly at Jesse.
“What? You mean no cereal?” I say, smirking.
“Nope.” Sarcasm unnoticed, Benji continues to shovel heaped spoonfuls into his mouth. There are three glasses of orange juice waiting and rounds of toast, bacon and pancakes piled high in the centre of the table.
“Good morning.” Jesse’s eyes are searching mine.
“Good morning,” I reply, smiling shyly.
He stands and heads towards the stove. “I saved you some.” He walks bac
k and empties the remaining egg on to my plate, glancing at me with a shy smile playing across his stunning, unshaven face.
“Thanks.” I take a little of everything. It’s delicious. Is there nothing this man can’t do?
We sit and eat in contented silence, interrupted only by murmurs of approval for breakfast. Mine and Jesse’s eyes meet repeatedly across the table but I have to look away. Highlights of last night flash through my mind when I look into those wicked eyes.
Blushing over breakfast, whatever next?
“What are your plans for today?” I ask, interrupting the pleasantries with a morbid need to know if he’s staying. He’s back, but surely not for long.
“I’m not sure. I thought I’d stick around, if that’s okay?”
“Can Jesse come with us to the sand dunes?” Benjamin pipes, confiscating the chance I had to work out whether I should even invite him. I don’t want to dismiss Jesse after everything we went through last night, but I don’t want to open the situation up for questions from Benjamin that I’m not prepared to answer yet.
“Of course, if that’s what he’d like.” I throw the invitation back to Jesse.
“I’d love,” he says, grinning at us both.
We all get ready in a hurry. I notice that Benjamin is much more enthusiastic about our trip now that we have company. He’s packed enough toys to keep a whole classroom of children entertained.
Jesse found a change of clothes in his car. He’s spent a lot of time this morning on the phone so I haven’t had a moment alone with him to question him about this, but I can’t help but hope that he has come prepared for a long stay.
While I prepare a picnic of sandwiches, chips and fruit, Benjamin sits on the floor by the front door, impatient to be leaving.
“Why don’t you get your sneakers on, Benji?” I ask, knowing that he hasn’t put them on because of the whole laces issue.
“Will you tie my laces for me?”
Forget Me Not Page 13
