Kelly Jamieson: Breakaway

“Tell me about Winnipeg.”

He grinned. “Do you even know where it is?”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “Canada.”

His laughter warmed her insides. “Very good. Actually it’s not that far from here. Just north of North Dakota. It’s a nice city. Not as big as Chicago, of course. Bet you didn’t know it was once called the ‘Chicago of the north.’”

“I didn’t know that.” She watched him talk, sipped her wine.

“Back at the turn of the century, Winnipeg was growing fast. There were a lot of skyscrapers built—well, at the time they were considered skyscrapers. The architects who designed them were trained in the Chicago School style. Those buildings are still there, in the Exchange District. In fact, a lot of movies are filmed there because the buildings and streets still look just like they did back then. It’s a neat area.”

“Really? That’s cool.”

“Yeah. Winnipeg has stood in for Chicago in a few movies.”

“Like what?”

“Um… Shall We Dance , with Richard Gere and Susan Sarandon.”

“Get out! Really?”

“I kid you not.”

She wanted to know why he’d left, why he was here in Chicago, but didn’t want to ask.

“Do you miss your family?”

“Yeah. I see my brothers once in a while.” He gave her a funny grin. “And my parents visit sometimes, when they can.” He paused. “You must miss your parents.”

“Well, I do. But to be honest, they weren’t around that much, even when they were alive. They were both doctors and they did a lot of work in Africa.”

His brows rose. “Wow. Africa.”

“Yeah. It was very noble of them. They felt a…a ‘calling’, I suppose. But they’d be gone for months at a time.”

“Let me guess. Leaving big sister Remi in charge.”

“Yeah.” Her mouth twisted into a crooked smile. “And then they were killed in a small plane crash in Somalia.”

“Ah. That’s crappy.”

She nodded. “Yeah. But we did okay.”

“I see that.” He stroked a strand of hair back off her face, sending heat sliding down from his touch.

“Let’s talk abut happier things.”

“How about….let’s not talk.”

Their mouths met and clung in a long, slow kiss. When they drew apart, their eyes met. Jason’s breath stuck in his chest, his heart thudding painfully. His eyelids felt heavy and then, like two magnets, he and Remi fell on each other, their mouths meeting again, this time hard, hot and hungry.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and practically crawled onto his lap, tongues sliding, teeth nipping. She tasted delicious, sweet and sparkly like champagne, with a hint of mint from the mojitos. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer and then she was on his lap, sideways on the couch. He shifted his body, gently lowered her to the couch and moved over her. He kissed her again and again until they both had to break for air, panting.

She licked her lips, staring at him wide-eyed. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.”

And they went at it again, deep, seeking, open-mouthed kisses. His hands stroked her everywhere he could reach, over her hips, her waist, up the sides of her rib cage, thumbs resting just beneath her breasts, then down to thighs bared by her skirt, which had ridden up indecently high. Her skin was satiny warm and her body jerked when he found the sensitive skin at the back of her knee.

He was acutely aware of how tiny she was compared to him, worried that he might hurt her, so he took care and didn’t let his weight rest on her as he leaned over her to kiss her. She squirmed beneath him, arching into him, and he lifted away from her.

“What?” she gasped.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She blinked at him. “Of course I’m okay. Why are you stopping?”

Instead of answering, he just kissed her again, starving for more of the taste and feel of her in his mouth. Their tongues played, her hands wandered up and down his back, then slipped under his suit jacket. Through the thin cotton of his shirt he felt her warmth and he wanted nothing between her touch and his skin.

He sat up again and tore his suit jacket off. Goddamn suits and ties, he’d never understand why they had to wear these things on game days, but apparently they had to look professional. He fumbled at his throat with the knot of the tie, like a noose around his neck, and when he’d loosened it, he popped open the first two buttons of his shirt. Ah. So much better.

He took a deep breath and leaned back down to Remi, kissing her again. Now her little hands tugged at his shirt and found their way beneath it to his skin. He wanted to groan at the pleasure of it.

He was so hard and full he ached with it, longing to press himself against her softness, but he held himself back, again conscious of her size, and his size, and the difference in their size. They kissed on and on, hands roving, bodies writhing, skin heating.

He had to feel more of her and he rose up to slide the tiny straps of her top down her arms, dying to see the curves of her breasts. She helped him by hitching her shoulders and then he peeled the sparkly top down to her waist, revealing the—thank you, Jesus—black lace strapless bra. He blinked at it, at the delicate curves between the lacy cups, and his mouth watered. “So pretty,” he murmured. “I love black lace.”

“That’s good.”

He tipped his head. “Do your panties match?”

She huffed out a soft laugh. “Find out for yourself.”

“Mmm. Okay.”

And the top and the skirt came off too, both down over her hips and legs, leaving her lying on the couch in her lingerie, and yes, her panties were black lace too, a tiny triangle held on by a slender black ribbon over each hip. Her skin was incredible—creamy smooth everywhere, her body dainty and perfect.

He had to just stop and stare, breathing hard.

“Jason?” She put a hand out to him and he lifted his gaze to her face. Uncertainty shadowed her eyes, her mouth soft and pouty.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he muttered. “I have to look at you.”

Her eyes widened, then drifted closed and the corners of her mouth tipped up. “Thank you. I’m not…”

He lightly rested his fingers on her mouth. “Don’t even say it.” He didn’t know how, but he knew what she was about to say and he didn’t want to hear any comparisons between her and anyone else, because there was no comparison. Jason himself was a little taken aback at how stunningly beautiful he found her. His heart stuttered in his chest. Jesus.

He swallowed, then explored her curves with his hands, taking them on a joyful tour of smooth thighs, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. He longed to see her nipples, to taste them too, but he wanted to keep the black lace on as long as possible.

He bent his head and pressed a kiss to the softness of her tummy and it quivered beneath his mouth. His tongue gave a gentle lap, his lips a tiny suck, and he breathed in the fresh, flowery scent of her skin before he lifted his head. She groaned and slid her hands into his hair.

He pressed a trail of kisses down over her lower belly, noting the tiny fine golden hairs just above the black lace, wanting to see what was beneath it, digging deep for patience. He pressed his mouth over the black lace and inhaled again, her scent now warmer and layered with feminine arousal. It made him so goddamn hard he groaned. Her hips lifted beneath him and when he raised his head and looked down at his big hands holding her small hips, he shook. It was like holding a doll, tiny and perfect, but terrifying.

“Uh…” He reared back again.

“What? Now what?”

He shook his head, his brains fuddled a bit. Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this.