The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(127)

His kiss was passionate and purposeful. As he pressed his body into mine and we fell onto the bed, it wasn't hard to speculate about what that purpose was. And my mind was immediately set at ease.

See, I told myself. He is a cheater. All this time worrying about how I would feel if he refused to have sex with me. It was pretty obvious from the hard bulge forming in his pants that he was far from refusing.

He eagerly reached down for the bottom of my sweater and began to pull it upward. Our kissing stopped only long enough for the sweater to slide over my head, and then his lips desperately lunged back for mine as if we hadn't kissed each other for a year – or longer.

I began to unbutton his shirt from the top. His fingers started at the bottom, and when our hands met at the middle button, I quickly slid the shirt off his shoulders. He twisted his body to help remove it faster.

Every action, every removal, every touch couldn't be done with more impatience. We had both been waiting so long to get to this very moment... but for different reasons. And now that it was finally here, there was no doubt that neither of us wanted to wait any longer than we had to. Clothing was only an aggravating obstacle at this point.

When I was finally down to my bra and underwear, he slowed down. Way down. He pulled his mouth away from me and looked admiringly at my body, sprawled out before him. I could feel his eyes on me as strongly as I could feel his hands. When he looked at me, it was as if they, too, were caressing my skin. And as much as I hated to admit it, his eyes felt almost as good.

I lay on my back with Jamie resting closely at my side, his head propped up with his hand, one leg between mine. He carefully traced the tops of my breasts with his fingertips, and then he lowered his head to kiss them. They were perfectly rounded by the push-up wires of my bra and I tilted my chin up and moaned with pleasure.

The scary part was... the moan was real.

It wasn't fake.

Where the hell was Ashlyn?

She had left me here to fend for myself, and I clearly wasn't doing a very good job at it.

Everything felt amazing. The incredibleness of this moment was undeniable.

He kissed me again, and delicately pulled himself on top of me. The kiss grew deeper, and I could feel him getting harder. His body sunk into mine, and we slowly rocked together as our lips touched, parted, separated, and then touched again.

My eyes were closed yet I felt like I could see everything. As if I no longer needed them to open...ever again. The sensation of Jamie's body on top of mine was all I needed to feel for the rest of my life.

And then all of a sudden, panic set in.

What are you doing? I asked myself.

We were about to have sex and I was about to let it happen. I wanted nothing more than for it to happen. But it couldn't happen. That was not in the agenda. The rules are and always have been very simple: I test for an "intention to cheat" only. There is no sex involved. There never has been and there never can be. Otherwise, it's just plain prostitution. Yes, prostitution. I had to keep one very important and sobering fact in mind: I was being paid to be here.

Not to mention that I would knowingly be having sex with another woman's husband.

I again felt the incredible longing for the bliss of ignorance. The mind-eraser drug. Something to wipe out all memories from the past week so that I could go back to that perfect day when she didn't exist. Mrs. Jamie Richards.

How wonderful would this moment be if I could?

Jamie stopped kissing me and reached up to touch my face with the back of his hand. "Hey," he said gently.

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. A genuine, real, authentic smile. "Yeah?"

He continued to stroke my cheek and then tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I can't believe what I'm about to say, but maybe we shouldn't be doing this right now."

My eyes opened wide and I stared at him in disbelief. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said hurriedly. "I just..." His voice trailed off and he rolled onto his back. "I just don't know if we're ready for this yet."

I didn't know how to respond to that. It was definitely a new kind of rejection. One I hadn't heard before. And most of the time, unlike other girls, I'm all for the rejections. But this one brought a mixed bag of emotions. Why didn't he want to? Was it me? Was the underwear not sexy enough? Was the push-up bra not pushing up enough? What the hell was it?

"Well, you certainly felt ready," I half joked, trying to hide my wounded ego.

He laughed. "Yeah, well, that's only natural. I mean, you are unbelievably sexy."

"But you don't want to have sex with me," I reminded him bluntly.

He reached out and grabbed my hand tightly. "I do. Believe me, I do. Please, don't be offended. I'm just not sure we should... yet."

I nodded apprehensively. "Okay."

"How gay am I?" he asked, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling.

I chuckled. "You're not gay. Trust me, one of my best friends is gay... and you are definitely nowhere near anything like him."

He laughed. "Thanks. I'll keep reminding myself of that."

I watched him as he watched the ceiling. He looked...troubled.

"Is everything all right?" I ventured.

He turned toward me and offered me an apologetic sigh. "Yes. Everything's fine. I'm sorry, baby. I'm just...preoccupied."