The Will (The Magdalene Series) (Volume 1)(102)

I swallowed the emotion that was clogging my throat and dipped my chin into my neck so I could press my forehead into his skin.

His hand tightened on my neck and he urged, “Go to sleep, Josie.”

At his command, I opened my eyes, turned my head and settled in. “Okay, Jake.”

He moved his other arm to wrap both around me and I settled deeper into him. With effort, I relaxed against him and it didn’t take long before one of his arms slid away, the other one loosened, his hand resting lightly at my waist, and I knew he was asleep.

I wasn’t asleep.

The last time I got what I wanted, what I really, really wanted was when Andy came to sit by me in lunch at high school.

And that didn’t work out very well.

Somehow, it had happened again.

I’d been happy then.

I felt happy now.

Right alongside utterly terrified.

This thought seized me and I rolled away from Jake to turn my eyes to the window.

I couldn’t see the sea from where I was in the bed, but I could see the inky sky and bright shaft of moonlight.

I was barely away from him but for seconds before Jake rolled into me and I felt his arm curl around my belly.

He did nothing more. He said nothing. His breath was even. His hold was again loose.

“Jake?” I whispered.

He didn’t reply.

He’d rolled into me in his sleep.

I stared at the view and seeing that view, lying in that bed, Jake holding me in his sleep, it came to me that Gran gave this to me.

Gran gave it to me.

All of it.

She knew what she was doing from the very beginning.

So it was safe.

And it was mine.

On that thought, I felt the tension slide out of my shoulders and away from spine, my lips curved up, my body pressed back into the warm hardness of Jake’s and my eyelids dropped.

Thus on that thought, I fell asleep for the first time in over two decades doing it carefree.

And doing it happy.





Chapter Thirteen


She’d Like It a Fuckuva Lot



Jake opened his eyes and saw white ceiling and white cornices.

But he felt Josie’s hair all over his chest and shoulder, her cheek on his pec, her arm around his gut, the warmth of her soft body pressed to his side and the silk of her short nightie on his arm but his hand that was resting on her hip felt nothing but skin.

This was why he smiled.

His eyes caught on the pink of the walls and his mind brought up an image of that room which was almost all flowers, the armchair by the window, the cover on the bed, the toss pillows that were everywhere. The prints didn’t match but it worked in a girlie way that was definitely not him, it wasn’t even Josie, but it was Lydie. There were even faded pictures of flowers in frames on the walls.

With all that pink and all those flowers, it was a wonder his testosterone levels didn’t take a nosedive the instant he entered the room.

Then again, he could get it up for Josie anytime, anyplace. He knew that because he had to fight against getting hard at a f*cking high school football game with just her pressed to his side.

He could definitely do it in a room filled with flowers.

He’d proved that last night.

And now.

He wanted her. He was ready for her. His mind was no longer on flowers but on the red silk nightie she was wearing.

His favorite color was blue but that red nightie was the absolute shit. Josie in it, her long hair down and even wet, her in that nightie was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

But he’d only had one condom in his wallet. He’d taken her without one in the locker room but until they had the conversation, that was all he was going to take.

Which sucked.

This meant he couldn’t have her again and with the day ahead, he wouldn’t be able to have her until that night.

So they had to have the conversation.

They just wouldn’t be having it now.

Last night, they’d taken a giant leap forward, a f*cking awesome one. Even with that, he wasn’t going to start pushing her now.

To calm his shit down, he was trying not to think of her in that sexy as f*ck dress she wore last night, sitting ringside for him, following him to the locker room, that look on her face, that heat in her pretty blue eyes, when she moved her head slightly on his chest.

He knew by the way it felt she wasn’t moving in her sleep but instead moving in a way she was trying not to wake him so he knew she was awake.

Therefore he tightened his arm around her and rolled them so he was resting partly on her front, partly down her side. He hitched a knee to spread her legs and rested it almost at the heat of her as he lifted his head and looked down at her face.

Fuck.

So f*cking pretty.

Jake slid his hand up her side, over her chest, up her neck and gently spread her hair out, arranging it on the pillow, his eyes watching, and when he got what he wanted, he caught her gaze and whispered, “Mornin’, Slick.”

Her lips tipped up and she whispered back, “Good morning, Jake.”

At the sound of her voice, the feel of her under him, it hit him.

Christ, she was there. Under him. In a nightie. Her hair spread on the pillow. Her hands resting light on his lower back. He’d tasted her sweet *. He’d f*cked it twice. He’d watched her come in the shower, giving it to her with his fingers. He’d swallowed her whimpers and moans. He’d felt her tighten around him every-f*cking-where.