Page 82

Hurts the Healing

ABBI

Doesn’t happen overnight.

I’ve been backin Amarillo for two weeks. And in those fourteen days, Jace reminds me just how good his dick is. His words, not mine. He’s… different. I can’t explain it. He’s no longer the boy I knew growing up. He’s a man. Who still lives at home. I know, I’m a little bitter about that.

But late at night, when we’re alone in his room, that’s when I remember what it’s like to be loved and adored by Jace Madsen Vaughn.

And I can’t get enough.

We haven’t talked much about the baby, or what it means, but on more than one occasion I find him with his hand on my swollen stomach, slowly caressing it.

The truth in our situation? I’m terrified of the future in ways I can’t explain. There’s so much we haven’t decided on. Like where we’re going to live. Currently we’re in the bathroom, at his parents’ house. Have I mentioned they only have one bathroom?

Unfortunately,onefreaking bathroom.

Jace positions himself behind me, our bodies reflecting in the mirror, our clothes in a pile on the floor next to the heater vent. And to give you more detail, he’s rubbing the head of his cock back and forth over my soaked center. “It’s a good thing I already knocked you up,” he whispers into my neck, nuzzling his face.

“Why?” I pant, the shower steam rolling between us. I can barely make out his expression, but by the heated cursing and the silent pleas in his moans, I know the hooded eyes and the parted lips I’d be met with. I don’t need to see his face to know this is what heaven looks like.

My question earns me a lazy smile. “Because we’ve fucked so much lately I’d surely knocked you up by now.”

I laugh as his cock nestles in the crack of my ass and he tries to again to get inside me. “We’ve never been careful.”

“True,” he grunts, his voice dripping with lust. He grips my hip from behind, his forehead resting against my shoulder blades as I lose sight of his face in the mirror. He’s no longer wearing his sling, and his arm is free from a splint, and bandages, but he doesn’t use it. He keeps it at his side, rarely touching anything with it.

When he tries to enter me again, I push my ass back against his hips, shaking my head. “Jace… your mom is home.”

His breath is hot in my ear and finally, he raises his left hand and touches it to my neck. I shiver, the warm flesh sending sparks of electricity through me. “I don’t give a fuck,” he growls and fists my hair in his hand. I want to ask if he can feel it, if it hurts, but I don’t pry because he doesn’t like to talk about his arm.

And then a thought surfaces as I wiggle from his embrace, the shower still running without us in it. “We’re having dinner with my parents.”

He grunts and slams into me from behind. “I don’t want to talk about your dad while I’m fucking you.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips and I deepen it, forgetting about our conversation.

And so the conversation fades, for now, as he fucks me against the counter.

* * *

I watchhim towel off from his shower, still hesitant any time his arm is in use. The staples are out, scars forming with puffy outlines. I know his arm is a concern and is why we’re living with his parents. I’ve offered to get an apartment, rent a house, anything, but he resists.

“Where are we going to live?” I finally ask, curious what his answer will be. I can’t help but think he’s hiding something. We’ve rarely talked about the future, and for a girl who just left hers behind, it’s scary that I don’t have a plan. I still don’t even have a freaking job.

“You’re really freaking out about this? I told you. My mom’s not here. She’s at work, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s weird having sex with you while your family is here.”

He shakes his head, unbelieving. “This coming from the girl that fucked me while my dad was sleeping next to us.”

I gape at him that he brought that up. If I remember that incident, I wasn’t informed his dad was even in the room until afterward. Stupid jerk. He laughs, reaching for his razor and stepping toward the counter.

I rip it from his hand, the cord dangling between us. “Uh, no.” I shake my finger in his face and he attempts to bite it. “Don’t you dare.”

His eyebrows lift and he then reaches for his toothbrush but then sets it on the counter. “I can’t shave?”

“Nope.” I tuck the razor back in the drawer and close it with my hip. “If I’m going to live with a cowboy, I want the full experience.”

“Cowboy,” he mumbles, a chuckle rumbling his chest as though that word is entertaining to him for some reason. “Noted.” He runs a hand over his jaw. “Are we really having dinner with your parents?”