Page 87 of More than Paper

“Can we?”

“Yes.”

I look away as the dam breaks once more.

He pulls me into him and kisses my tears. “I want to spend my life with you. We’re meant to be together.”

“You’re married,” I whisper as the hurt of the evening comes crashing back to me.

“I told you, so did V, it’s just a piece of paper. It doesn’t mean anything.”

But it does. It means you’ll never fully be mine.

He wraps me in his arms, tight, and I sink into him, not wanting him to let me go but not sure what to even make of all this.

The truth of their marriage makes everything gray. If he were in a typical marriage, I would have already run. But he married Valeria to save her from an awful life, and I can’t hate him for it. I wish I could, but I can’t.

And she seems nice. I like her. I want to hate her, but I can’t. I want to hate him, but that’s impossible.

So everything is gray, and I don’t know what to do.

My advice to Piper about Noah is ringing in my ears. “Piper, life isn’t two plus two equals four. You have to step into the gray area at some point.”

But can I turn an eye on this?Regardless of the circumstances, he’s married and didn’t tell me.

His lips move across my jaw, and I can’t resist him. He presses his mouth hard against mine as his hand pushes my head into him further while rolling his tongue urgently on mine.

And I’m falling. I’m falling into everything that is Jamison and me. The perfection of our lips, tongue, and breath. The melting of our skin against the other’s. The gliding, digging, and grasping of our hands.

“I love you,” he murmurs in my mouth. “Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has,” I repeat, as I lock my hands around his head.

“No, it hasn’t.” He moves his hand to the strap of my nightgown and lowers it down my arm so my breast is exposed to him. He dips his head down and gently licks around my areola, teasing and taunting my nipple so it puckers.

As he lowers my other strap and plays with my other breast, my legs automatically widen. I wrap my feet over his calves, bucking my lower body against his erection.

I kiss his forehead, and his mouth crushes against mine once more. His fingers slide through my hair, and he pulls my head back as his lips brush my neck.

“You’re mine. I’m yours,” he mumbles near my ear.

More than anything, I want to be his and him to be mine. It’s all I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on him from afar.

But how can he be mine when he’s married? He’s technically hers.

But they’ve never had a physical relationship. They’ve only kissed twice, at each of their weddings.

Two weddings. Two sets of vows. Two “I do’s.”

He rocks his hips on me, grinding his hard erection into my aching sex that’s already throbbing for him. His hands lower, wadding up my nightgown and removing it then my panties.

Holding my leg in the air, he shimmies out of his shorts then kisses my ankle, trailing his mouth up to my calf, through my inner thigh, and positions both my legs over his shoulders.

I’m already breathing hard. Wrapping his hands around my hips, he pulls me closer to his face, and the slow burn of my climatic journey begins. His nimble tongue dives in and out of my body, devouring me. He tortures all my nerves and drives me to the edge, expertly keeping my sex pulsing and me loudly begging for more.

“Jamison...oh...” I cry out.

“I got you, doll,” he growls, between flicking and sucking me harder.

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