Page 45 of Where You Left Me

He nods again. But it turns into a shake of his head, and he shrugs. “Mostly.”

A tear slips out of my eye and rolls down my cheek. I still have my palm pressed to Jones’s chest. I can’t seem to let go. It’s wildly beautiful but dreadfully sad at the same time.

“Some days I felt closer to you, like the baby or even the tattoo was keeping us connected. On the days when the grief threatened to consume me, this tattoo was the only reminder keeping me sane.”

“That’s beautiful, Jones,” my words rumble through tears. “Thisis beautiful.” My gaze sweeps down to where the tattoo is again. “I only wish I had thought of it. Or had something like it.”

Jones covers my hand with his, pressing my palm firmly to his chest. His heartbeat thumps against my fingers. “I was worried you wouldn’t like it.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “If anything, I’m jealous of it.”

Another tear falls from my eye and this time, Jones catches it. He wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “The tattoo is great. But this…this is what I wanted all along. To miss her with you, to miss her together. To grieve…together.”

“I know, you’re right. That wasn’t fair,” I say, sniffing. “I’m sorry, I’m so?—”

“Stop,” Jones interrupts. “You’re here now. If losing my mom has taught me anything, it’s that we can’t waste time focused on the past.”

“Yeah, I’m here now. But, Jones, I’m only here until the end of summer.”

It feels cruel to say in this moment. But regardless, it needed to be said. I can’t make any promises about the future.

“Then we better make the most of our time together.” He gives me a sly grin as he clambers off the bed. Scooping me up, I let out a shriek. “Let’s go get in the shower and get cleaned off. As much as I like you dirty, I’m an impatient asshole and I’ve smeared grease all over you.”

I don’t mind the grease on my skin or the smell of engine oil. It’s a familiar and comforting scent that reminds me of Jones and his garage.

But the thought of taking a shower with him gets me riled up again even though my pussy is still aching from the first orgasm.

Taking my hand, Jones leads me into the bathroom. His dark, hooded blue-grey eyes barely tear their focus off me. My skin buzzes as I take in the sight of the small, glass shower.

I try not to think about the last time I was in here. The night after I had too much to drink. Except Jones had been so sweet to me. He brought me water, braided my hair, and changed me out of my clothes after I puked on them.

Reaching an arm inside the shower, Jones turns on the water. He wastes no time in nudging me inside.

“Get in the shower and lather up, Peaches. I want to see those wet tits squished against the glass,” he says, authority in his tone.

And I not only don’t mind it, I crave it.

Stepping in the shower, I let the water rain over me until I’m good and soaked. I squeeze his body wash into my hand and lather up my whole body. Gathering my hair, I wring it out and toss it over a shoulder. The shower is small so two steps and I’m flush with the glass wall.

When I glance up at him, I find him watching me with dark, lustful eyes, and holy shit it’s full-on feral. My knees practically wobble. The effect this man has on me should be illegal. It’s like no time has passed at all but at the same time, it’s obvious we’re both older, more mature, and definitely more experienced.

Jones hooks a finger and says, “Closer.”

I press my front against the cool, firm glass, and when I do, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobs. His bluish-grey eyes darken and he moves closer to me with only the glass separating us. He rests his palms on the glass, and I bring mine up to meet his. As crazy as it sounds, it’s wildly hot and if my body wasn’t already soaked, the pooling between my legs would be visible.

“Look how sexy you are covered in bubbles and lathered up for me. Now wash that pussy before I fill it with my cock.”

My face must blanche because he follows by saying, “Don’t play shy on me now, beauty. I need you good and turned on before I fuck you.”

Jokes on him because I’m well past turned on. I could almost come at his words.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I mutter, not even sure he hears me through the glass and the pelting water.

“C’mon, beauty, circle that pretty, pink clit with your fingers. I’m not stepping in there until I hear those adorable whimpers on this side of the glass.”

He’s challenging me. But I’m not about to back down. Desperation to be pleasured and satisfied aches from my core all the way to my toes. So I do exactly what he says.

Skimming my palm across my chest and over a breast, I watch Jones and catch him tugging his lip between his teeth. As my hand glides south, down my sleek stomach, and at last reaches my clit, his cock stands at attention. Seeing him this aroused by watching me, makes me even more agitated.

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