I wrap myself around him, burying my face in his chest as I cling to him and cry out years and years of deeply buried pain.
“I’m here … I’ve got you … always. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, Mia. I swear.”
***
At some point, I fall asleep. The sheer exhaustion from crying, and reliving my past pain with Jordan had taken its toll.
When I wake, my eyes are swollen, and my head is sore and heavy.
I lift my head from Jordan’s chest, blinking my blurry eyes into focus. His are closed, but his arms immediately tighten around me.
“Don’t leave.” He opens his eyes.
“I wasn’t,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
His hand rubs circles on my back. “How are you feeling?”
Rubbing my eyes, I rest my chin on his chest. “I’ve felt worse.”
He nods in understanding.
“Thank you … for being here, for listening.”
“I’m always here for you.” He touches my face. “Do you need to talk some more, now you’re feeling a little clearer?”
I shake my head. “I feel okay at the moment. I want to keep feeling okay.” I lie my head back on his chest and listen to the gentle drum of his heart.
My eyes graze over his tattoo, which covers his right pectoral, goes up over his shoulder, and down his arm, ending at his wrist. It’s tribal, with quotes woven through it.
I run my fingertip down his arm, reading the quotes I’ve seen before, but paying attention now…
Not all who wander are lost.
That’s on his bicep.
“I had this tattoo done in three parts,” he explains. “That was done while I was traveling. I had it done in Indonesia.”
My fingers move down to his forearm…
If you can’t live longer, live deeper.
“I got that done after my mom died.”
I give a sad smile, then press my lips to the words, kissing them. I sit up, shifting my body so that I’m straddling his waist. His hands go to my thighs.
“You finished checking me out?” He grins.
“I’m checking out your tattoo, and no, I’m not done.” I smile, then lean close to read the words on his chest…
I don't go looking for trouble.
Trouble usually finds me.
I let out a laugh. That is such a Jordan thing to say. But why do I know that saying…
“Harry Potter.” I jab my finger at the tattoo.
“Ow!” he complains, rubbing his chest.
“Sorry.” I smile sheepishly. “That’s a quote from Harry Potter, right?”
He gives me a suspicious look. “Yeah, it is. Why?”
I shrug. “No reason … geek,” I cough, covering my mouth with my hand.
His eyes narrow, then he’s moving like lightening, tackling me back and pinning me to the bed with his body.
“Arrggghh!” I let out a squeal of laughter.
“Did you just call me a geek?” He hovers his face above mine. His face is serious, but I can see the mirth in his eyes.
“Nope.” I press my grinning lips together.
“No? I’m pretty sure you did just call me a geek.”
“Noooo.” I give a gasp of shock. “I mean as if getting a Harry Potter quote tattooed on your chest would, in any way, make me think you’re a geek. I’d say it’s the coolest thing ever.”
“Smart-ass,” he quips. “And seriously, babe, Harry Potter is f**kin’ cool. The kid’s a wizard for f**k’s sake!”
I start laughing. I love seeing this side of him. The one I don’t think anyone else ever sees, the stripped down version of him. The real him. The one he hides away, deep inside.
He starts laughing with me, then runs his hand down the side of my face, his thumb pressing against my lips, sending fire shooting through me. The laughter is gone quickly, his lips replacing his thumb.
“I love to see you laughing,” he says against my mouth.
My hands slide down his back. “I love that you make me laugh.”
Smiling against my mouth, he gives me one last kiss, then lays his head on my chest.
I start playing with his hair. He makes a sound of appreciation, so I figure he must like it.
“I am a geek,” he mutters after a while.
I stop playing with his hair. “Yeah, you are.” I smile. “But you know what? It makes me like you even more.”
He squeezes my hip, pressing a kiss against the peak of my breast.
I start playing with his hair again. “So … what now?” I ask the question which has been hovering in my mind since we first had sex.
I know we’ve had two dates, a freak out from me when things first got heavy between us, and now we’ve had sex followed by an emotional breakdown from me.
Truthfully, I just don’t know what’s actually happening between us.
I know what I want, but the problem is, I don’t know what Jordan wants from me.
His chest lifts on a breath, his hand stroking the skin on my shoulder. “Well, I was thinking that I would leave you in bed, get up and feed Dozer ’cause he’ll be wanting his breakfast, and he needs his meds. Then I would make pancakes for my woman, and bring them to her in bed. Afterward, once she’s happily fed, I thought we could spend the rest of the day in bed … only if she wants to, of course?”
His woman. I’ll take that as a good thing.
He lifts his head, resting his chin on my chest. His warm eyes stare at me, filled with feeling, feeling he has for me.