Page 100 of Jessica's Hero
She tips her head back to meet my gaze. “What are you doing here? Ijusthit the necklace.”
“I was coming to meet you. To meet your mom.” And a great way to do it, letting her daughter get attacked. “I’m so sorry, Jess. I should have?—”
“It’s not your fault. Who could have ever thought…” Jess glances at Daria again, then turns back to me. “You got here in time. Just like you always do.”
“Not this time. You saved yourself, sweetheart.” My gaze jumps to the gravestone etched with the wordsMonica Day - Best Mother in the World - Always Missed and Never Forgotten.“And I know your mom is so proud of you. Just like I am.”
For the first time since I arrived, tears shine in her eyes. But with them comes a wobbly smile. “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”
Oh.
I never knew my heart could feel like this.
“Yeah, baby. You did.”
CHAPTER 21
JESS
“Didn’t I tell you not to move?”
My hand freezes halfway to Kane’s hair, and I whip it back to my side with an apologetic, “Sorry!”
Amusement lights his gaze as he looks at me, his lips quirking in a teasing smile. “Should I go get the scarves? Would that help?”
Even the thought of that silky fabric wrapped around my wrists makes me even wetter than I already was. My core throbs with need, the tiny muscles convulsing around Kane as he sinks deeper inside me.
“Do you like that idea?” Kane asks. “I could go get them. Although…” He smirks. “Then we’d have to stop. For a few minutes, at least.”
The deep timbre of his voice brings another surge of desire. I love it when his voice gets all low and rumbly, as it always does when we’re making love.
As I’m debating—wait for Kane to run inside to get thescarves or not—he reaches between us and finds my sensitive bud, stroking gently before giving it a little tweak. A low moan slips out, and I clench my legs around his waist instinctively.
Even if my brain is torn, my body knows what it wants. To feel Kane seated deep inside me, his every move a tantalizing tease drawing me closer and closer to the edge.
While I adore being restrained by Kane, the idea of losing contact with him for even a second is unthinkable. To be empty again after this delicious feeling of completion.
“No, not this time,” I reply on a gasp, as Kane tilts my hips so he can plunge even deeper. Then he hits that spot, the one he knows drives me wild. My head falls back and my eyes flutter shut. “Just don’t… leave.”
Kane leans over me, his warm breath fanning across my cheek. Amusement shifts to something more serious. “Never, sweetheart. I willneverleave you. That, I promise.”
Then he captures my wrists and lifts them above my head, pinning them to the couch cushion in a firm but careful grip. “I don’t want to leave now, either,” he adds in that same, raspy voice. “Not when you feel so damn good wrapped around me.”
I can’t disagree. Making love with Kane is always amazing, and no matter how many times I think it can’t possibly get any better, he does something to prove me wrong.
Like surprising me with this fully decorated igloo out on the back patio, complete with heaters and a little fire pit and a sumptuous couch that’s the perfect size to fitboth of us. Not just creating this little winter escape in our backyard, but making a romantic date out of it, with wine and a gourmet charcuterie platter and a box of my favorite truffles.
Not just that, but it’s the way he’s this perfect incongruity.
Gently forceful while we make love, telling me what to do and sometimes ordering me not to move—which I never would have thought I’d be into before I met Kane, but now I can’t get enough of. It’s not an abdication of power, like I used to think submission was, but a gift instead. When I let Kane control things, it’s granting him my absolute trust.
And I know he would never, ever break it. Not in bed, or on this couch, or anywhere; whether it’s making love or not. Kane might like being dominant in the bedroom, but I know his priority is making me happy. Making sure I feel safe.
Kane never does anything without asking me first, whether it’s the first time or the tenth. And he doesn’t expect me to always want to submit, either. Sometimes I want to take charge, like the other day, when I climbed on top of him while he was sleeping.
He definitely didn’t complain about waking up tothat. And when I told him not to move, to let me take care of everything, I didn’t miss the flare of heat in his eyes. Or the way he twitched in my hand, going hot and slick with excitement.
“We can bring the scarves out next time,” I tell him. “And maybe the blindfold, too.” Pausing, I amend, “Although. It’s so pretty out here. I don’t want to miss anything.”
