This would’ve been the moment to change my mind. To let my hundred and one reasons rule my decision. To stay not-knowing and stay away from never-forgetting.

This was it.

But instead of opening my mouth or shaking my head, I kept hold of my towel and moved forward. I stepped out into the hallway. I wasn’t going to look at Jamie. I was going to turn and walk to my bedroom and wait.

But a hand on my stomach stopped me, and because I wasn’t expecting that hand, I turned my head, tipped it back, and looked at him.

Jamie didn’t need to say a word. And thinking back, I almost wished he hadn’t.

Staring into his eyes, I heard his promise to me before he even shared it.

“Wouldn’t be like that with you,” he said, and I felt his hand press deeper with the breath I pulled in. “Had that with women before. Made it known that was all it was and made it known up front. If there’s an expectation there, I squash it or I move on. Messed up not to and shit just causes drama I don’t fuckin’ need.”

He stared down at me after he was done speaking, keeping that look.

“Okay,” I replied, not really understanding why he was sharing past women with me, and feeling the need to question his motives. “Why are you telling me this?”

Jamie bent down. His fingers tensed on my stomach.

“’Cause I’m tellin’ you to have an expectation, babe,” he shared, voice like a hot touch moving over me and breaking my body out in chills.

I blinked. Air caught in my throat. Lord …

I had no idea how to respond to that, and before I opened my mouth and said something stupid, like “okay” or “are you sure” or “I’m expecting you not to hurt me,” I turned my head and my body and moved toward my bedroom. I did not look back.

God. My heartbeat was nothing before.

I stepped inside the room and looked around. The light was already on and the corner of the comforter was wrinkled.

Jamie had been in here. This was where he’d been waiting.

I moved to the side of the bed and spun around when he entered in behind me. Both hands clutched at the fold in my towel.

“Get on the bed,” Jamie ordered. His tone was severe.

My toes curled against the carpet. I didn’t move.

I watched Jamie reach over his shoulder and grip his shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it on the chaise recliner next to the window, met my eyes when he turned his head, and again ordered, “Get on the bed.”

I trapped my lip between my teeth, staring at his broad chest and hard muscles. I didn’t move.

Jamie unbuttoned and unzipped his gray, loose-fit cargo shorts. He pushed them to the floor, standing in black boxer briefs that clung. He was already hard.

“Tori.”

My eyes snapped up at the sound of my name.

“You never call me Tori,” I said, feeling the need to remind him of that.

He bent down, picked up his shorts, and pulled a sleeve of condoms out of his pocket. “About to get off on you. You’re gonna be hearin’ your name a lot,” he pledged, keeping hold of the condoms and tossing his shorts on the recliner to join his shirt.

I huffed out a breath, draining the air from my lungs.

Wow. That was honest.

Then, because I knew he was going to order me to do it again and also because I wasn’t sure my legs could hold me up much longer, I let my towel fall to the floor and quickly climbed onto the center of the bed.

Head on the pillow. Body stretched long. Thighs pinching tight. I looked down at my nakedness, at my breasts rising and falling rapidly, the tops of my knees and my hot-pink toes, then I lifted my eyes and saw Jamie was looking, too.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, bringing a knee to the bed and putting weight on it as he stared, eyes trailing up and down and lingering in certain areas. He blindly tossed the condoms next to my hip, then he gripped my ankle, pushed back, and opened me up.

I gasped and pulled the soft duvet between my fingers.

“You’ve got the hottest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen,” he said, climbing onto the mattress between my legs and staring there now, too.

My stomach clenched.

I wanted to roll away or cover up. I wanted to die.

And in the same breath, I didn’t. I wanted this more.

Jamie lifted his eyes to me. “You wax?”

I nodded.

“Always keep it bare?”

I swallowed thickly, then nodded again.

“Like that, babe,” he said, eyes darkening as he shifted closer, hands sliding up my shins, over my knees to my thighs.

I started shaking.

“Jamie,” I whispered.

He leaned over me, bracing his hands beside my shoulders and lowering, letting me feel the weight of his body. The pressure of him moved in waves, starting at my hips, stomach, chest, the tops of my shoulders, until he covered me completely.

It was comfortable and it wasn’t.

I wasn’t a small woman. I was average height, five foot six, and the rest of me was average, too. I wasn’t super skinny. I had meat on my bones and extra meat in certain areas. My butt filled out my jeans and I had to buy large tops on occasion because of my breasts, even though I was built for mediums.

I wasn’t pint-sized and petite. I wasn’t skinny by any means, but beneath Jamie, I felt tiny. Delicate.

He was huge and I was under him, wondering how long it would take him to break me.

When he dropped his head and kissed my shoulder, I stopped wondering and worrying and clutched at him instead, holding on to skin that felt like sunlight and smelled familiar. I gripped at the muscles in his back. I trailed my fingers up the line of his spine and curled them around his narrow hips.