Page 23

Chapter 23

The one where Jeff panics over boxes.

A few weeks blur by, and before I know it, I’m hauling a heavy box of clothes up to the bedroom while Jamie heads back out to the moving truck. My arms ache, but my brain is too busy spinning to care.

Moving in with Jamie—it still doesn’t feel real. His apartment has always been kind of bare, almost too neat, but now, with my stuff scattered everywhere, it’s starting to look more... lived-in. Cozy, even. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. But as I glance at the clutter and my boxes piled in the corner, a familiar knot tightens in my stomach. Am I making this better, or just making a mess of his life? Is this a metaphor? Am I ruining him? Is he better off without me after all?

Great. Now the anxiety’s spiraling, clawing its way up from the pit of my stomach like a runaway train.

I drop the box by the bed and head back outside. The truck isn’t even half empty, and I already feel like I’ve brought too much.

“Jeff, you brought way too much stuff. I thought you were packing light?” Jamie grunts, struggling to pull out a box of my electronics. He’s breaking a sweat, his dark gray sweatpants clinging to him in a way that’s very distracting.

He looks good. Too good. I kind of wish I could just sit back and enjoy the view.

Instead, I smack his butt on my way to grab another box. Jamie glares at me, but I just raise my eyebrows, grinning.

“Real mature,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I laugh and push him aside. “I’ll take that one. Can you grab my surfboard? It’s still in the back of the car.”

"You're kidding…" He gives me a look. “Where the hell is that supposed to go?”

“I dunno,” I shrug, already turning back toward the stairs.

Behind me, he sighs like I’ve just told him to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. I glance back and catch the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips press together. He’s worried. I can tell. Jamie’s eyebrows always give him away.

“Dude, just bail,” I tease, laughing as I start up the steps with the box.

“Excuse me? What the hell did you just say?” Jamie’s voice follows me, sharp but way too amused.

I keep walking, not bothering to turn around. “I said just bail.”

I’m halfway to the living room when I hear the door slam behind me, and I know I’ve poked the bear. Before I even have time to set the box down, Jamie barrels into me like a linebacker, nearly knocking me off my feet.

“Shit!” I yell as the box of electronics crashes to the floor. My stomach sinks. “Oh my god, did I just kill my computer?”

Jamie doesn’t even glance at the box. “Serves you right,” he says, already shoving me toward the bedroom like a man on a mission.

“Jamie, what are you doing?” I laugh, trying to twist out of his grip, but he’s always been stronger than he looks—and he’s clearly not playing around.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he says, laughing like a maniac as he wrestles me onto the bed. “And not just once—twice, Jeff.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t feel so good, does it?” I grin up at him, my heart doing its stupid thing where it races every time he looks me in the eye like this. All intense and focused, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.

“No, it doesn’t.” He stops laughing for a second, his gaze steady and serious. “You were joking, right?”

I hesitate. Damn. I wasn’t expecting him to actually ask that. “I mean... I’m already annoying you with all my stuff being here,” I blurt out, my voice quieter than I’d like.

Jamie’s expression shifts immediately. His brow furrows, like he’s debating whether to be serious or mess with me, but then he smiles—a soft, genuine smile. “Yeah, it’s a little annoying,” he says honestly, and I can’t help but laugh. God, I love that he never has a filter around me. With Jamie, it’s always the truth, no matter how blunt or messy, and somehow, that makes me love him even more.

“But Jeff,” he continues, “I’ve never lived with anyone before. I’m just... figuring it out, okay?”

I grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I’m really bad at laundry, dishes, and cooking. I hope you like pizza rolls.”

Jamie laughs, finally easing up on the death grip he’s got on my wrists. “Jeff, I know all that already.”

“So, if you think this is annoying, just wait. I’ll give you, like, three months before you’re totally over me.”

Jamie tilts his head, that mischievous grin creeping back onto his face. “Is that a bet?”

His words hit me like a sucker punch, dragging up every stupid mistake I’ve ever made, every time I’ve messed this up before—especially that disaster in LA with Tiffany. The thought of losing him again, even as a joke, twists my stomach into knots. My smile slowly disappears, replaced by the creeping fear of losing him again that I try so hard to keep buried.

“No,” I say firmly, shaking my head. “I’m not betting with you anymore. I’m not willing to lose.”

Jamie’s smile fades into something softer, gentler. He lets go of my wrists and sits back on the bed, giving me space I don’t want. I sit up too, leaning forward to wrap my arms around him, holding him tight like that’ll keep him from ever slipping away.

“Please don’t ever bail on me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. I’m not even sure he hears me until his arms tighten around me, pulling me closer.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jeff,” he murmurs, his voice warm and steady. “What’s wrong?”

I swallow hard, trying to find the words. “I just... I don’t want you to wake up one day and think you made a mistake. Like what happened the first time you flew out to visit me.”

Jamie pulls back just enough to press his forehead to mine, his breath warm and steady against my skin. His voice is soft but carries that firm edge he gets when he means every word. “Stop,” he whispers. “We’ve both had our moments of being stupid and indecisive, Jeff… but I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears hit before I can stop them, but Jamie doesn’t even blink. He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheeks like it’s no big deal, like seeing me cry is just part of the package he’s signed up for. “I promise, Jeff,” he says, his voice so damn certain it makes me want to believe him. “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s going to be fine. Remember when you said that to me? Has it not been?”

I manage a shaky laugh, the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips. “...It’s been pretty fine.”

Jamie grins, his whole face lighting up like I’ve just told him the best joke in the world. “Yeah, it has. All sorts of fine.”

When he kisses me, it’s slow and easy, the kind of kiss that says everything he doesn’t have to.

But then, just as I’m starting to relax, Jamie pushes me back onto the mattress with a grin that’s equal parts playful and dangerous. His weight settles over me, pinning me in place, and before I can say a word, his lips are on mine again—this time with an intensity that steals my breath. His tongue dives deep, swallowing the groan that slips from my throat, and it feels illicit, raw, like he’s taking every last bit of me for himself.

My hands are trapped next to my head, his fingers locking me in place, and I feel the deliberate press of his hips against mine. He shifts, pressing even closer, before bending down to my neck. His teeth graze my skin, sending a jolt through me, and when he nibbles gently, I swear I could melt into the mattress.

“God, Jamie…” My voice comes out rough, almost a groan, and I can feel the smirk against my neck as his lips brush my skin.

“Hmm?” he hums, the sound teasing, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. His hands slide down my sides, slow and deliberate, his fingers pressing just hard enough to drive me out of my mind. He shifts his weight against me, and I swear I’m about to lose it.

“You’re killing me,” I manage, my breath hitching as he nips at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.

Jamie pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, his expression full of that smug, playful confidence that drives me crazy. “Killing you?” he repeats, his voice low and smooth. “You sure about that? Because according to what I'm feeling right now, I think you're okay.”

I groan, gripping the sheets beneath me as he moves his hips just enough to keep me on edge. “You’re fucking killing me,” I mutter again. He’s got me wrapped around his finger, and we both know it.

Jamie’s grin widens as he leans in, his forehead brushing against mine. “Take your pants off” he whispers, his voice a mix of teasing and tender. "Hurry up.”

I kick and wiggle out of my pants with all the grace of a drunk octopus, one pant leg getting caught on my sock. Jamie laughs, leaning back to tug it free for me. He tosses them onto the floor without a second thought, his grin widening as his eyes flick back to mine. There’s something so Jamie about the look in his eyes… effortless, playful, completely at ease.

Then his hand slides between us, cupping me through my boxers, and I nearly whimper. Nearly. My breath hitches, and any attempt at composure I had vanishes on the spot. I’m not even ashamed about how pathetic I am over Jamie anymore. He’s got me—completely, unapologetically.

“Sensitive today, huh?” he teases, his voice dipping just enough to make my stomach tighten.

“You’re one to talk,” I manage, though it’s more of a breathless mutter than a proper comeback.

Jamie just smirks, his thumb dragging lazily over me, and it takes everything in me not to arch into his touch. “Maybe,” he admits, his tone light but loaded. “But I’m not the one making all those pretty sounds.”

I groan, tossing an arm over my eyes, but he pulls it away just as quickly, his grin turning downright devilish. “No hiding, Jeff,” he says softly, leaning in so his lips graze the shell of my ear. “I want to see you. Every reaction. Every sound. Got it?”

I nod, swallowing hard, and meet his gaze. The look in his eyes is enough to undo me. Confident. In control. Completely tuned in to every little way I respond to him. It’s like he knows me better than I know myself.

Jamie doesn’t wait for me to recover from the sheer power of his words before he’s moving, sliding down my body with deliberate ease. His hands trace my sides, pushing my shirt up to my arms. His lips press warm, open-mouthed kisses to my bare stomach, and I feel like I’m going to lose my damn mind. Every nerve is tuned to him—his touch, his breath, the low hum of approval he gives when I shiver under him.

He pauses just below my waistband, his fingers hooking into the fabric of my boxers. “You’re so good at following instructions,” he says, his voice smooth and teasing. Jamie tilts his head, looking up at me like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. He drags his hands deliberately over my thighs, his touch light enough to make my skin prickle, but firm enough that I can feel the heat of him through every nerve.

“You’re good at… this,” I manage to whisper, though it feels like an understatement so pathetic it should disqualify me from speaking altogether. My voice sounds wrecked, and honestly? It is. My brain is completely fried. How the hell is he stringing full sentences together like this?

He smirks, that same knowing, confident tilt to his mouth that should probably piss me off but only makes my pulse race harder. “I know,” he says, his voice low and smug.

Jamie’s tone is so matter-of-fact, so absolutely certain, that I almost laugh—if it weren’t for the fact that I’m completely incapable of doing anything but staring at him. His eyes stay locked on mine for a moment longer, those wickedly sharp cheekbones only making his smirk more insufferable. Then, without warning, he leans forward, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of my lower abdomen, and my head drops back against the pillows with a groan.

Every nerve feels like it’s on fire as Jamie takes me in, his mouth impossibly warm, his tongue firmly dragging against my throbbing dick as he moves. The first slow, deliberate pull sends a shockwave through my body, and my hips jerk instinctively against his hold. His hands tighten on my thighs, grounding me, and I can’t tell if it’s to steady me or to keep me from moving. He's still teasing me, and I don't think I can take any more of it.

“Jamie…” I choke out again, my voice ragged, barely holding it together. He hums in response, and the vibration shoots straight through me, leaving me clutching at the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping me from flying apart. His tongue drags along the underside of me, slow and unrelenting, before swirling over the head, and I gasp, my back arching off the bed.

He doesn’t stop. Of course, he doesn’t. Jamie is nothing if not relentless, and the way his lips curve around me—like he’s smiling—is infuriating and unfair and entirely too much. My fingers twitch toward his hair, aching to touch him, to anchor myself in some way, but the intensity of his grip on my thighs has me pinned in place, completely at his mercy.

His hands slide higher, his thumbs grazing my hip bones now, and the slight pressure is enough to send another shiver coursing through me. He tilts his head, changing the angle, and when he takes me deeper, I can’t hold back the loud groan that tears from my throat.

“Fuck...”

I’m barely coherent, the word spilling out before I can think to hold them back. He hums again, the sound low and almost smug, and I swear he’s doing this on purpose—dragging it out, taking his time, knowing exactly how to unravel me piece by piece.

My breathing is erratic, my chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, and when I glance down, the sight of him, his blonde hair falling into his eyes, his lips stretched around me, the way he looks so completely in control… it nearly undoes me. I can’t help the way my fingers twitch toward his head again, but this time, he lets me, the feel of his hair slipping between my fingers.

“Jamie…” His name is the only thing I can manage as my grip tightens in his hair, my body trembling under the overwhelming heat of his mouth and the firm, steady hold of his hands. I’m not going to last, and I know he can tell.

Jamie sits up, his back straight and his eyes locked onto mine. My breath catches as he slides his sweatpants down, his movements unhurried, teasing, like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on me.

He’s so hard it almost makes me groan just looking at him. A faint, barely audible sigh escapes his lips when his hand finally wraps around himself, the sound sending a spark straight through me. He leans into me, steady and confident, aligning us together in a way that makes my pulse race.

The moment his fingers wrap around the both of us and he starts to move, I lose whatever composure I thought I had left. The warmth of his grip, the slow, steady glide of his hand. My hips jerk against him instinctively, and he smirks, his confidence radiating in every calculated motion.

“You good?” he asks, his tone low, teasing, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—affection, reassurance.

I nod, swallowing hard, unable to form words. My hands find his hips, fingers digging into the firm muscle there, holding onto him like he’s my lifeline. He leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a way that’s almost tender, completely at odds with the steady rhythm of his hand.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against my mouth, and I feel his breath warm against my skin. His hand tightens, his movements just a little rougher, and I can feel every inch of him against me, the friction sending my brain into overdrive.

“Jamie…” My voice is strained, desperate, and he responds with a soft laugh, his lips trailing along my jaw.

“You're so fucking good,” he whispers, and there’s a wicked edge to his voice now, a quiet confidence that leaves me utterly wrecked. He shifts his weight, his body pressing closer, and all I can do is cling to him, my hands sliding up his back as he works us both toward the edge.

“I don’t want you holding back, Jeff,” he murmurs, leaning down. “No walls, no filters. Just you.”

And that’s when it hits me—this isn’t just physical for him. It's never been. It’s all of me he’s claiming, all of me he’s coaxing out of my carefully built defenses. He’s not demanding control; he’s giving me the space to be completely raw with him, completely seen.

So, I give in. Completely.

I flip him over, grinning at the startled laugh he lets out as he lands on the mattress. His legs hook around my waist almost instinctively, holding me there, and when I look down at him, he’s smiling, that same confident, mischievous smile that drives me wild.

“What’s with the look?” Jamie teases, his hands sliding up my chest. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a guy who knows what he wants.”

I laugh, low and breathless, and lean down, kissing him deeply. “I’ve seen it,” I murmur against his lips. “I’m looking at him right now.”

Jamie arches up to meet me, his body fitting against mine like we were made for this. His hands trail down my back, guiding me as we move together, and it’s all so effortless, so natural. Every touch, every kiss, every sound feels like a conversation only the two of us can have.

He doesn’t just take—he leads. Every shift of his hips, every squeeze of his legs around me while I rut against him, every whispered encouragement egging me on keeps me tethered to him, makes it clear that he’s the one pulling me deeper into this connection we share.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, his voice softer now, more serious, his fingers threading through my hair as he pulls me down so our foreheads touch. “That’s us, Jeff. No one else. Just us.”

“Yeah,” I breathe, completely undone. “Just us.”

And when we finally reach the edge together, his name is the only thing on my lips, and the way he holds me after makes it clear that I’ve given him exactly what he wanted. No walls, no filters. Just me.

By the time we stumble out of the bedroom, Lucy’s dead center in the living room, gripping my surfboard like she’s auditioning for a role in a post-apocalyptic action movie. Her face is flushed, her hair’s coming loose from her ponytail, and the sheer mix of exhaustion and unfiltered rage radiating off her almost makes me take a step back.

Oh, shit. I nearly forgot she was here to help me move.

“Are you two fucking serious right now?!” she shrieks, pointing the surfboard at us like it’s a javelin she’s moments away from hurling. “I’m out there breaking my back, sweating my ass off, and you’re in here doing—whatever the hell that was! Screwing each other’s brains out while I’m stuck moving your ridiculous amount of crap?!”

Jamie immediately bites down on his lip, doing his best to keep it together, but his eyes are already sparkling with suppressed laughter. I glance at him, then back at Lucy. Yeah, I should probably feel bad... but I don’t. Not even a little.

I clear my throat, trying to sound apologetic but failing miserably as my grin grows wider. “Uh... we’ll make it up to you?”

Lucy’s nostrils flare. “You’d better make it up to me, Jeff! Pizza. Two large. Garlic knots. And none of that cheap-ass place on the corner! I want the good stuff! ”

“Deal,” Jamie pipes up, his voice slightly shaky from holding back laughter.

Lucy glares at both of us for another second before she groans, tossing the surfboard onto the couch with a loud thud. “Unbelievable,” she mutters, throwing her hands in the air as she storms toward the door. “And don’t even think about asking me to help unpack! ”

The second the door slams shut behind her, Jamie completely loses it, doubling over with laughter so contagious it doesn’t take long for me to join in.