"What'cha doing, Momma?"
"Showing my appreciation." The words are whispered against his rough jawline. He stills a moment before moving in, and then his lips are on mine. I breathe him in, reveling in having him this close to me, touching me, kissing me. I suck in his bottom lip and relish in the moan he gives me. My arms are around his neck, legs around his waist, and I'm hanging on for dear life. We're a tangled mess of limbs and sounds that are better suited for a private space.
When Jim pulls away, he's breathing heavily, barely able to form the words as he says, "Fuck."
Before I know it, we're on the move toward the hallway. I bounce in his arms, holding so tight that I hope I leave a mark so that everybody knows who Jim was with tonight. I might not have him forever, but I can leave a lasting impression.
There are hoots and hollers from the people around us as Jim carries me down the hallway to his room. The closer we get to being alone, the more my hands shake. My belly does flips, and my entire body is buzzing with excitement. I want this. I want it so bad that I can practically taste my own desperation. When he kicks the door open, I practically jump. I want nothing more than to be with Jim, but I can't control my nerves.
"Don't," he says, setting me down on my feet and stepping away. He stands in the doorway, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He leans in, placing his hands on either side of the door frame, and practically snarls at me. I blink.
"Don't think you have to do this because of today," he says. I open my mouth to respond, but he doesn't let me. "Just don't."
"Why did you do that? Today? Why did you do that?" My voice is firm, demanding even. I just can't let something that started so good end so badly before it even begins.
"You're seriously asking me that fucking question?" Jim's jaw ticks as he spits the words out at me. He pushes off the door frame, leans down, and breathes heavily in my face. It's always like this with us--hot tempers, angry words, and unspoken confessions. But not tonight.
"Tell me why."
"I fuck up a lot, okay? I fuck up and do shit I can't make right. But this? I figured I could at least give Ian a fucking party."
"But why did you want to?" Gently, I place my hands on his chest and slide them underneath his cut. He huffs as I slide his cut off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
"Isn't it obvious?" he says. His hands toy at the hem of my shirt. With his eyes boring into mine, he stills. I nod, giving him the okay, and before I know it, my shirt is being pulled over my head.
We move quickly now, not waiting or thinking about what we're doing. He only stops long enough to kick the door shut behind us and make sure it's locked. I have my fingers pulling at the button of my jeans, but he stops me and finishes the job himself. His hands slip between the fabric of my pants and my skin, parting the two and sliding the jeans down over my hips. He sinks to his knees as he goes, never taking his eyes off mine.
I bend down so our faces are level, my lips trail kisses up from the base of Jim's throat to his chin and up to the corner of his eye. Jim isn't Mike, and he isn't Ian's dad. He's not any of the awful men who came before him. He gave me a job, a place my boy can settle in, and friends. Jesus, Jim's given us both so much. I can't repay him. No matter how hard I try, I won't ever be able to. So instead of trying, I let my touch tell him everything I can't.
"My kid's mom was some whore I'd see when the club would make it down to Oakland. She was pretty, but the kind of pretty that has to try too hard to be pretty." I don't know why he's telling me this, much less choosing now to say it. I like him sharing, though, so I just listen and watch as he strips me of my shoes and then my jeans and finally my socks. "There were girls in school I liked. Usually the mouthy ones who got in trouble. I can't remember any of their names."
Jim kisses his way up my foot to my leg and up to the inside of my knee. He lets his eyes fall, so focused on what he's doing, moving so slowly. Every single touch is like a lightning bolt to my heart.
Gripping me around the back of my thighs and pulling me closer, Jim's breath is hot against the fabric of my old, worn panties. They're not special or attractive. I didn't plan on this, or I would have put more thought into what I'm wearing.
"There were others." His breath is like a whisper to my core--a promise of what's to come. Gently, he places a kiss right there. It's just over the material, but the heat bypasses it and ghosts across my skin. With every word he speaks, my core heats and dampens even more. I didn't think I could want him more than I already did.
"I don't remember anything about the girls in school. I couldn't even remember Ryan's mom's name until the social worker showed up with him."