Hit the Spot

“I said forever and you didn’t say anything, okay? There.” I huffed out a breath, twisted, and grabbed my bottle of Pure Leaf, unscrewed the lid off the rest of the way—I had only loosened it earlier—and brought the bottle to my lips.

My eyes connected with Jamie’s as I sipped, which, seeing the way his eyes were looking now, his whole face for that matter—gentled, sweet, soul-touching—I got one mouthful down before I was forced to stop sipping for fear I’d suck sweet tea down the wrong pipe.

I knew that look. I’d seen it on Jamie’s face a handful of times now. One of those times being that very night I showed up at his house begging for sex and he promised me I’d never be worrying about Wes again. Another time being in front of the fire before we made love when I told Jamie he was the best man I’d ever known.

I couldn’t sip tea right now. Not with Jamie looking at me like that. Not when I knew the next words out of his mouth were going to hit my soft, sink in deep, and stay there.

“You couldn’t sleep ’cause I didn’t tell you I was with you on that,” he suggested, eyes soft and voice lowered.

I wiped my hand across my mouth, then I nodded my head and lowered my eyes, staring at the label on my bottle.

“Look at me, babe.”

I lifted my eyes again.

“Tense all night. Worryin’ I wasn’t feelin’ you. That wasn’t the case,” Jamie began to explain. “Just came in a woman for the first time. That woman bein’ you. I was processin’ shit. Not three weeks ago you wanted nothin’ to do with me. Now we’re here, you’re talkin’ about forever—”

“I know,” I interrupted him, sighing heavily. See! Never should’ve said it. “I was being stupid, okay? I didn’t—”

“You don’t know,” Jamie shot back, interrupting me this time. “And you weren’t bein’ stupid. You were feelin’ something and you shared it. That happens, no matter what it is you’re tellin’ me, that ain’t you bein’ stupid.”

“Okay,” I said, mouth twitching. That was nice to hear. Still, there was a problem. “But now I’m, like, twenty steps ahead of you,” I pointed out.

He smiled then. What the hell?

“This isn’t funny, Jamie,” I hissed.

“It’s funny, babe,” he returned, reaching up and scratching his jaw. “You thinkin’ you’re ahead of me is fuckin’ hilarious.”

“No, it’s not. It’s embarrassing.”

He smiled bigger.

“Stop smiling!” I snapped.

“Catchin’ up,” he muttered.

I squinted at him, head tilting slightly. “What?”

“You,” he said, hand lowering back down and curling around the counter. “Catchin’ up.”

It hit me then, what Jamie was leading at. He’d been twenty steps ahead of me this entire time.

Breath catching, I righted my head and stopped squinting.

“You get what I’m sayin’ now?” he asked, still smiling but doing it softer.

“I get what you’re saying.”

“Good.” That smile he was wearing grew brighter again. “Now, are you gonna keep sittin’ there or are you gonna come here? I wanna hold you without you bein’ wound tight.”

I set my tea aside and slid off the counter, then I started moving.

“It’s really only been three weeks?” I asked when I reached him, thinking back to what he’d said. My hands curled around his smooth hips.

Three weeks didn’t seem right.

“Just about,” he answered, his arms around me, his head dipping down and his mouth pressing to my forehead.

“It feels longer than that,” I said, feeling his arms tighten and give me a squeeze in response. I slid my hands around his back and pressed closer, face lifting to hide in his neck. “I know I said forever,” I murmured. “And I know you said you’re with me on that, but I’m good with us taking the rest of the steps as they come. Together. We can go slow. We don’t have to keep skipping ahead.”

“I want you movin’ in with me,” Jamie shared.

My back snapped straight. I leaned away and gaped at him. “I just said we don’t have to keep skipping ahead,” I repeated, voice rising an octave higher.

Did he not hear me?

“How the fuck is you movin’ in with me skippin’ ahead?” he questioned, brows drawn, his arms still keeping tight hold on me as if he was preventing my escape. “Just said forever, babe. What do you think that means? I’m not gonna shack up with you?”

My shoulders sagged. He had a point.

“Well …” I paused, wetting my lips. “I don’t know. I just … why can’t you move in here? My house is nice.”

Jamie smirked. “Ain’t as nice as mine.”

My eyes narrowed as I tipped my chin up. “Your house is only nicer because you have a better view,” I argued. “It’s way too big, Jamie. What do you have, seven bedrooms? You don’t use them. That’s just space that collects dust.”

“Won’t be once you start poppin’ out my kids. We’ll fill it.”

My eyes were no longer narrowed. They were taking up the majority of my face. I just knew it.

Poppin’ out his kids? KIDS?

“Babe,” Jamie laughed, looking down at me. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">