Page 69 of On the Line

She looks over her shoulder at me, gives me a little smirk, and says, “Yes. I’d like it even more, though”—her voice is breathless, and she speaks between pants—“if you made me come.”

I reach up along the back of her neck and twist my hand around her hair until it’s a red rope in my palm. Her back is exposed in this sexy dress she’s wearing, and I sink my teeth into her skin above her shoulder blade. She lets out a hiss in response and moves her hips faster.

I pull that rope of hair, bringing her head back to my shoulder so her entire neck is exposed to my mouth as I kiss and suck a trail up to her ear. “There is nothing sexier than you riding my cock like this, Lauren,” I tell her, and she responds with a strangled moan.

She’s moving frantically on top of me, taking me quick and deep as I slide my hand along her bare hip and my finger meets her clit. She gasps at the first contact, then whispers, “Fuck, yes!” as I glide over that spot repeatedly.

Then I’m lost in the sensation of her slick heat sliding along my achingly hard dick until she’s panting and moaning my name. I pull that rope of hair a little harder, anchoring her back against me as I continue slamming into her. “Good girl,” I whisper, my lips right next to her ear, “Let’s see your tight little pussy come all over my cock.”

“I can’t just come on command...” she starts to say, and then I roll her clit between two fingers and her muscles tighten around me, like she’s made for me. And as she repeats “Yes, Jameson” over and over, all I can think iswe were meant for each other. No matter what’s kept us apart in the past, our future is together.

And that’s the thought that has me exploding into her so hard I actually see stars. And as we sit there, rib cages heaving as we both catch our breath, I know I’ll do absolutely anything for this woman.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough with you,” I say, kissing the back of her neck.

“You weren’t,” she says, and she leans back against my chest so my chin rests on her shoulder. “That was ... a little wild.” She’s silent for a beat, just long enough for me to notice how steamed up the windows are, then says, “But I liked it.”

“I don’t normally lose control like that.”

“That’s too bad,” she says, turning toward me and dragging the bridge of her nose along my cheekbone. “I was into it.”

“You liked fucking me like this? We can do that any time you want.” I kiss her cheek. “But what I mean was earlier, when Justin grabbed you. I don’t normally overreact like that.”

“You were remarkably calm, actually,” she says.

“I didn’t feel calm. I always think things through—I don’t make rash decisions like that. There’s only one other time I’ve let my emotions, instead of logic, make a decision for me ...”

“Oh, yeah?” she says.

“You might remember it, since you were there.” I told her earlier today that we needed to talk about our past, and I meant it. But I’m not having this conversation when I’m balls deep in her. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

* * *

“I’m one hundred percent confident this is better than the wedding cake would have been,” Lauren says as she takes another bite of the chocolate cake, layered with tart cherry filling and chocolate frosting.

“People must come from all around just for the desserts,” I say, looking around the small-town diner Lauren suggested we stop at. The walls are filled with framed vintage ski posters and old road signs, booths line the perimeter of the room with wooden tables and chairs in the middle, and the far wall is taken up with an enormous refrigerated case of cakes and pies.

“They do. You should see this place after the mountain closes. The ski crowd was already gone by the time we got here, but it’s always packed around dinnertime.” She runs the tines of her fork across her tongue, licking off the frosting that’s stuck to it, and sure enough, that innocent motion has my body already aching to touch and taste her again.

“Why do I feel like you’d know everyone here?” I didn’t realize quite how small her hometown was until we got up here yesterday. But it sounds like a lot of people pass through it to get to the ski mountain that’s about fifteen minutes away.

“Nah,” she says, and looks across the restaurant with the corner of her lower lip between her teeth. “I’ve been gone too long to know everyone. Things change, people change ...”

I hate how sad she sounds about this. I’m about to tell her we can come up any time she wants, bring the girls up to see their grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins more often, when she saves me from sounding like I’m inserting myself into her family by saying, “So, you wanted to talk? About the last time you felt like you lost control?”

“Yeah.” I take a sip of my water because suddenly my throat feels dry. We need to have this conversation, but I’m a little worried about how she’s going to react to what I have to say. I know how epically I fucked up five years ago, and until recently I was convinced I’d only hurt myself in the process. I truly believed she was happy with Josh, and I’d made peace with my actions because she was better off with him. But now, I don’t think that’s true.

She looks at me expectantly, motioning with her fork that I should continue, but I don’t know where to start.

“The last time I felt that angry and confused, and made a stupid and rash decision, was the night Audrey told me she was pregnant.”

I can tell Lauren is doing the mental math. Graham’s age plus nine months, puts us around five and a half years ago, right at the end of summer. “Was that the night ...”

She doesn’t need to finish her question because I nod. The night everything that was developing between us went to shit.

* * *

Five Years Ago

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