Kelly Jamieson - Breakaway

“You’re probably pissed off at me,” he finally said.

She debated how to play this. Like a mother whose child has disappeared while shopping, found safely moments later—should she be furious at the disappearance? Or happy and relieved he was okay? Emotions churned inside her.

“Should I be pissed off?” she asked, trying to hold his gaze, but he let his eyes drop.

“Yeah. You should.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a big, stupid jerk.”

She felt a fist squeezing her heart.

“No, you’re not.”

He moved toward her and put his hands on her waist and she let her briefcase drop to the floor. Then he bent his head and kissed her. Much as she wanted to kiss him back and never, ever stop, she couldn’t just pretend nothing had happened. She put her palm on his chest and pushed.

“What’s going on, Jase?”

He lifted his head and gazed down at her, his mouth a straight line of grimness, eyes dark.

“Nothing.”

She shoved harder at him and he took a step back. “Bullshit. Something’s obviously wrong.”

“I should have called you on Saturday,” he said, pushing his hands into his pockets and elevating his shoulders like a little boy. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? You’re sorry?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at him. That wasn’t good enough for her. How could he think it was?

“Wanna get some dinner?” he asked.

She felt her eyebrows descend and put her fingers to her temples. “Dinner?”

“Sure. Something quick.” He moved toward her again and traced his fingers down the side of her neck and over her collarbone in the opening of her blouse. She shivered. “And then we can go back to your place and I’ll make it up to you that I didn’t call on Saturday.”

She lowered her chin and looked up at him through her lashes. He was going to do this—act like nothing big had happened.

Jennifer appeared in the door of the classroom with some papers in her hands. She stopped short upon seeing Jason. “Oh, hi Jason. I didn’t know you were here.”

He shot her his most charming grin, made especially bad-boy sexy by the shiner, and she smiled in return. Remi wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t. “Just came to talk to Remi.”

She eyed them. “Well, I can talk to you about this tomorrow, Remi.”

“Okay. Thanks. We’re just leaving.”

This was not the place to be discussing Jason’s problems, whatever they may be, so she grabbed her coat and purse and briefcase and they walked out of the school together.

“Let’s just go to my place,” she suggested. “If you’re hungry, I’ll make you something, but I don’t want to be having this conversation in a restaurant.”

He frowned. Good. Just so he knew they were having a conversation.

He followed her home and once the door had closed behind them, he reached for her again. His mouth was warm and delicious on hers, then he kissed his way over her cheek and jaw and the side of her neck, sending shivery delight over her body. It was so hard to resist his potent sexual charm, but she grabbed hold of his big biceps and tried to push him away.

“Stop, Jase.”

He muttered something against her neck and didn’t move. “You’re so sweet, Remi,” he murmured. “God, I missed you. I had to see you. Even…”

Even what? She ached for more of him, longed to arch against him and throw her arms around his neck. She almost did. Then she used some of the moves she hadn’t used for a while and slid out of his grip with a fast bend of her knees, then grabbed his arm and twisted it up behind his back sharply.

“Jesus Christ!”

She gave his arm a hard wrench, not to hurt him, just to remind him that just because he was big didn’t mean she couldn’t protect herself from him. Then she let him go and stepped away, putting space between them.

“Do not think you can just show up and get me all hot and bothered and I’ll just forget about whatever is going on,” she said, her jaw so tight it hurt. “Don’t think you can use sex to distract me from everything else.” Whoa. She was speaking up, standing up for herself. It was hard, but she knew it was important, important to their relationship and important for her own self-respect.

He stared at her, then rubbed his face. The lost look on his face almost did her in, but she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the arm chair. “And talk.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, god, Jase. I saw the newspaper article. You were arrested! You barely played half of the game Monday night and then you got in a fight and took a stupid penalty and cost your team the game.”

He winced.

She was just getting started. “So you didn’t call me. Fine. We don’t owe each other anything. Really. All I wanted to know was that you were okay. Then you call and don’t say a word about what happened. Then I see that in the paper and watch you blow the game—I was worried about you!”

She pushed her bangs off her forehead and blew out a long breath. That had actually felt pretty good. Except she was still worried sick about him.

Jason sat in the chair, not saying a word, hands on the armrests.

“What’s this all about? Tell me. Did you freak out after you asked me to move in with you?”

He stared at her.

“‘Cause if you did, that’s just crazy. We didn’t even talk about it. I don’t know if I even want to move in with you. It was no reason to go nuts.”

“That’s not it,” he said in a low voice.

His shoulders slumped and again she went all soft and warm inside, wanting to throw herself into his lap and hug him and make him feel better.

“Then what is it?”

“You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was!”

She stood there shaking her head.

His lips pressed together he nodded and sat forward, head bowed. Then he lifted his head. “I never thought you’d be worried about me.”

She sank down onto the couch, legs feeling woolly soft. “I love you, Jase. Of course I’d be worried about you.”

“Oh, god.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Sorry, Remi. I should’ve called you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry you read about that in the paper. I was an idiot. But it’s done.”

She shook her head, not convinced this wasn’t some major crisis.

“That’s it,” she said slowly. “Were you celebrating that night? At Sage?”

“Celebrating?” His laugh cracked. “Hell. Yeah. Sure. Celebrating.”

All she could do was sit there and look at him.

“C’mere, Remi. Please.” He held out a hand and despite her practical, sane, sensible nature, she rose off the couch and went over to him. He tugged her down onto his lap and she snuggled in against him, so big and warm and strong. His hands tightened on her body and he buried his face against her hair. She felt his chest rise and fall with his breathing, faster than usual, felt his heart thudding beneath her palm.

“I need you,” he whispered. “So much.”

She nodded against him, then lifted her head. She didn’t realize she was crying until his mouth touched hers and they both felt the wetness. He groaned and used his fingertips to wipe away her tears as they kissed.

“Don’t cry, Remi. Please don’t cry. I’m not worth it.”

How could he say that? More tears squeezed out of her eyes, despite the kisses he laid on her mouth, his hands holding her face.

The kisses grew hotter, their need for each other accelerated. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, sliding beneath clothes to find skin, his finding her breasts, hers gliding over the satiny muscles of his back.

He shoved up her skirt and cursed at the black tights she wore beneath it, but he hooked his fingers into the waistband and dragged them along with her panties off over her hips and legs, leaving her bare to him. He unzipped and pulled out his erection, long and hard and then he groaned. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Need a condom…”