Page 151

Letting him do all the work, I lie on my back beside him, his large T-shirt still nearly touching my knees.

“Can I pull this up?” he asks.

He watches me intently for approval, but his touch at the hem of the shirt leaves me to shakily figure out where to look. Mustering out a nod, I nearly pant as he slowly pulls the bottom of his shirt just below my boobs.

“I’m so bloated,” I blurt out, suddenly insecure about the fluffiness of my stomach.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he grumbles, and the sound is sexy as hell.

With not a second of reservation, his hand dusts small circles at the top of my stomach. Close, but not close enough to where my cramps and craving for him are.

We stay silent as his hand travels in the shape of an eight, soothing every voice that ever overpowered the silence of my mind. Unapologetically, I close my eyes, embracing his touch.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment so many times.” His voice is so quiet, almost like he’s talking to himself, but giving me the secret privilege to hear.

I don’t respond. Instead, I sit up on my elbows and watch. His droopy eyes are so full of passion while his rough hands travel all over my skin.

As if he’s unable to control himself, his face inches close to my stomach, peppering small kisses near my navel, and my body aches all over for more.

“I wish I could’ve done this that night.”

He continues, easing all the pain in my stomach and heart.

Our night was perfect; there wasn’t a thing I would’ve changed about it, but that’s not the night he’s talking about.

“It’s such a pleasure to touch you, Sofia baby.”

He continues his worship, and my body stiffens just slightly. He’s trying to replace my pain from that night, and he’s doing it.

“Thank you for allowing me to touch you,” he whimpers like he’s in pain.

In pain for me.

“Jett…” I pant, pushing my stomach into his touch, taken aback by the intensity of this moment.

“Tell me what you need. I’ll do anything,” he pleads, a subtle whine in his deep voice, and fuck, it makes me squirm beneath him.

“I wish I wasn’t bleeding,” I huff out, full of flustered frustration.

“I don’t care about that.”

“What?” My eyebrows shoot to the top of my forehead.

“I don’t care about the blood, baby girl. I just need you to tell me what you need.”

Unable to fully say it, I look at him and pray that he can pull the words from my swirling brain.

“Do you want me to touch you, Fia?”

“Yes,” I whine, desperate.

“I won’t do much, but I’ll make you feel good, okay.”

His hand begins pressing harder into my skin, and I can’t help but release a moan.

“Mhm,” I agree.

“Tell me where, baby.”