Tessa Ever After (18 page)

But as I look out at the two of them playing in the snow, Jason
running away from Haley but not so fast that she can’t catch him, I don’t think he’d even be here if he hadn’t thought it through a hundred times. He wouldn’t hurt Haley like that, and after being in our lives so frequently for the past few months, he has to know just exactly how much it will affect her.

Haley tosses a snowball at him, a weak excuse for a throw, but Jason goes down, crumpling to the ground as sure as if it were a major-league pitch hitting him. She’s on him in a second, her head tossed back in the absolutely unrestrained laughter that can come only from a child. She is so happy, so full of love. For Jason. It’s clear in the way his laughter meets and melts with hers, in the way he tosses her in the air, and in the way he smiles just for her that he feels the same.

It’s then, in that very moment as I stare out at a blanket of white, that I know I’m in trouble.

•   •   •

“HOW IS SHE
not tired yet?” Jason’s sprawled out on the couch, his head resting against the cushion. After an hour and a half outside, they came in to warm up the same way that’s been a tradition since
I
was a child—with hot chocolate. Once they were toasty again, Haley talked him into a tea party followed by a rousing game—or seven—of
Mario Kart
, and now despite all the activity outside and the nonstop goings-on in the house, Haley is still practically bouncing off the walls.

“It’s cabin fever. It’s like she knows we can’t get out even if we wanted to.” I glance outside at the snow still falling, the once-perfect flakes transforming into a blur of white, the wind gusting and blowing and the ground piled high with more than a foot of snow.

“Well, I’m ready for a nap,” Jason mumbles, his eyes closing.

“No naps!” Haley yells as she spins in circles.

“It’s the donuts from this morning,” I say to Jason. “You only have yourself to blame.”

“Oh, so that hot chocolate with twenty-seven marshmallows and a candy cane stir stick didn’t do anything, right?”

I smile. “It’s tradition. It’s what my mom used to give us whenever we played outside.”

With his head resting back against the couch cushion, he turns to face me. “I remember.”

His voice is soft—not tentative, but wistful. And even though he’s not a Maxwell, even though he didn’t live in this house, he’d come to count on my parents, my mom especially, as sure as if they were his own, because God knew his parents weren’t worth shit. There’s comfort in that, in shared memories and not having to recount the little details, of not having to try and tell someone how amazing my parents were. He already knows. He already knows so much.

“Let’s play a game!”

With a sigh, I glance over at Haley. “It’s almost bedtime, baby.”

She slumps, her lip going out in a pout. “Come
on.
Just one game?”

“Yeah, just one game?” Jason mimics, his lip popping out just like Haley’s.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought you were ready for a nap?”

“The faster we play the game, the faster I’m going to get one.”

“Yes!” Haley takes that for an answer and pumps her fist in
the air before running down the hall to her closet where all the games are stored.

When she comes skipping back in, a giant smile on her face and a white box with bold letters over the front and huge circles in red, green, blue, and yellow in her hands, Jason looks at me with a question I can’t misinterpret, his eyebrow raised. He knows just as well as I do that this is going to do nothing to extinguish the bubbling chemistry between us. And me agreeing to play the game is akin to stepping right into the wolf’s den.

jason

“Left foot green,” Tessa says, blowing the hair out of her face as she looks at Haley.

This is what my Saturday night looks like. Not body shots, not beer pong or strip poker.

Twister. And not even naked Twister with a group of coeds.

We’ve been at this for fifteen minutes. Fifteen agonizing minutes where too much and not nearly enough of Tessa has come in contact with me. When Haley came running out of her room with this game of all that she could have chosen, I knew exactly what would happen if we played it. Tessa and I have combustible chemistry when standing on opposite ends of a room, but throw us together, contorting and bending over a small mat, and all bets were off. I’ve had to restrain myself more times than I can count from leaning forward and biting the ass that somehow keeps ending up in my face. The only thing that’s stopped me is the four-year-old cock-blocker currently having the time of her life.

Listening to her mom’s order, Haley stretches, attempting to reach a green dot, but the closest open one isn’t close at all, and with a grunt, then a giggle, she collapses on the mat, taking her loss surprisingly well. “I’ll be the spinner! Mama, you gotta beat Jay, ’kay?” She sits on her knees off to the side, bouncing up and down as she sends the arrow spinning. Tessa watches, waiting for it to stop. When it does, she smiles smugly, then easily moves her left hand to the blue space.

I’m not so lucky—or luckier, depending on how you look at it. Haley’s spin for me lands on right hand red, which is on the other side of the mat. Carefully, I move, diligently keeping myself held up over the mat, and bring my hand down on the other side of Tessa, her back brushing against my chest. She took a shower while Haley and I were out playing in the snow, and the citrusy-fresh scent of her shampoo—the same scent she uses on me when I go to her for a haircut, the same scent that taunts me for days after—assaults me. I’m lost in thoughts of what that hair will look like spread over my pillow, when Haley calls out the next move, having already memorized which section on the spinner is for what body part.

With a twist of her body, Tessa moves her foot to the nearest yellow, her hip brushing up against my cock, and just like that, the semi I was sporting goes to full wood, and I groan under my breath. Tessa looks over at me, her green eyes darkening, her lips parted, and if there was any question about whether she feels this thing between us, I have my answer right here.

She holds the pose for a moment, then she drops one elbow to the floor, maintaining eye contact with me the entire time. Haley groans in the background, but it’s drowned out as I focus on Tessa’s eyes. I read everything I need to in that gaze. The want, the desire, the acceptance . . . the fear.

She’s scared she’s going to be just like any other girl for me, that this won’t be different. I’m scared of it, too. But then I remember I could have a dozen different girls if I wanted to. Ones I could call up and they’d be on me in the blink of an eye. Instead, I’ve spent my time dressing up in hats and feather boas just to see a little girl smile. I’ve spent a Saturday curled up in bed, then freezing my balls off for the sole purpose of hearing Haley laugh. I’ve spent all my time lately getting closer to the two girls who’ve come to mean the world to me, and because of that, I’m certain this is different.

She
is different. And I’m ready to prove just how much.

SIXTEEN

tessa

I threw the game. Despite my daughter wanting me to win—
for girls everywhere
, she said—I couldn’t. I feigned exhaustion, letting my body slump to the ground. Because my blood was boiling, my body on fire as I pressed against Jason’s body during a stupid game of Twister, and I couldn’t take it anymore. If Haley hadn’t been in the room, I would’ve pulled Jason down on top of me and let him strip me down right there on that stupid plastic mat.

In reality, I had a four-year-old to attend to instead of doing everything I wanted to. In the thirty minutes since putting Haley to bed, my urgency has faded, leaving behind only a subtle hum under my skin, but it’s there. This vibration of need when Jason is around that I never bothered to notice before. Or that I willingly ignored, which is probably more the case.

Despite that, despite wanting him, I’m in the bathroom under the guise of freshening up, even though I showered just a couple hours ago. I’m stalling, and I don’t know why. Haley’s asleep, Jason’s in the living room, presumably waiting for me, and I’m hiding in the bathroom.

Several minutes go by before a soft knock sounds at the door, sending me jumping nearly a foot in the air.

“Yeah . . .” I try to say, except my voice comes out all scratchy and breathless, so I clear my throat and try again. “Yeah?”

“Do you want me to just go home, Tess?”

“What?” I whip the door open, eyes wide and frantic, because that is absolutely
not
what I want. Not even a little bit. Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, Jason’s eyes snap to mine as soon as the layer of wood isn’t separating us anymore, and in that split second when our eyes meet, the heat between us cracks and sizzles just like it did while we were playing the game. Just like it’s been doing anytime we’re within twenty feet of each other. Shaking my head, I say, “No. I don’t want you to go home.”

His eyebrows lift up on his forehead, his expression one that clearly says he thinks I’m full of it. “You sure? Because you’ve been hiding in here for ten minutes.”

I open my mouth to argue with him about the hiding bit, but there’s no use. Instead, I simply nod and swallow, not sure I can find the words to tell him exactly what’s going on with me.

Mostly because I don’t even know myself.

It’s not like I’m a virgin, and even though it has been a while, I’ve never gotten like this with any of my previous partners. Never had this overwhelming nervousness, and I don’t know where it’s
coming from. No idea why there’s this swarm of bees buzzing around in my stomach. Why I’m all breathless with anticipation and anxiety.

But then Jason steps forward, right into my space, one hand coming up and cupping the back of my neck while the other goes to my hip, his thumb slipping under the material of my shirt to graze the skin above my waistband, and I know
exactly
why there’s a tornado in my belly.

“Last chance,” he murmurs, his breath washing over my lips, and I don’t think I could tell him to stop even if I wanted to.

But I don’t. I don’t want to, so I shake my head, and finally—
finally
—he closes the distance between us and puts his lips to mine. The kiss is tentative at first, a question, and even though he gave me an out just a moment ago, I love that he’s not pushing it. When I don’t pull away, don’t do anything but grip the front of his shirt in my fists and pull him closer to me, he takes that as an answer and swipes his tongue across my lips. On a moan, I open to him, desperate to taste him again in a way I didn’t allow myself to think about before now.

Jason’s grip on me tightens, his thumb rubbing in circles against the pulse point at my neck, and I know he can feel my heart flying. It’s nearly pounding right out of my rib cage. His other hand curls around my hip, pulling me closer to him, flush with him, and I can’t stop from gasping into his mouth. He’s against me, all of him, strong and solid and
hard
, and I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until this very moment.

He’s already good at reading my cues, because no more have I thought it than we’re walking, fumbling down the hallway and into my bedroom. The door isn’t even closed before I start
tugging up his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. With a grunt and a curse, he reaches back and yanks his shirt over his head before his lips are back on mine, his tongue sliding against my own, and I can hardly breathe I want this so badly.

In the dozen-plus years of his being in my life, I’ve seen him without a shirt on too many times to count, but I’ve never
felt
his bare skin. Not like this. He’s sinewy and muscular, the body of a runner, all tall and lanky, the muscles in his abdomen defined but not obscene, his biceps cut but not bulky. I run my hands over every part of him I can reach, sliding from his chest to his stomach, following the trail of hair down then hooking into the waistband of his jeans, and I want those off, too.