CHAPTER EIGHT
“You really shouldn’t stare at me that way,” Jett said, then stuffed another lamington piece into his gob, thankful he’d changed out of the elf costume as the tight shirt had made it close to impossible to take deep breaths.
The melt-in-your-mouth spongy cake dissolved on his tongue, yet part of him craved something sweeter—Paris. She watched him with hungry eyes. It was the kind of look she’d given him when they used to date, and he enjoyed seeing that side of her again. But she had said Melbourne was now her home. Yet tonight felt special. It was Christmas Eve, and he couldn’t remember the last time such a buzz of excitement filled him.
“How am I staring at you?” She purred her response, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“Like you want me.”
She laughed, her face changing into a state of relaxed joy. He bathed in her bubbly aura and adored the way she teared up from giggling.
Behind Paris, kids ran around the room, trying out their new presents, kicking balls, and riding skates. Everyone else chatted with friends and family, the hum of their voices drowning out the sound of rain. For Jett, he might as well have been alone with Paris, because when he stared at her, the world faded into the distance.
“You’re so funny,” she said.
Jett dusted the coconut off his fingers on his jeans. “Are you denying you want me?” The reason behind his boldness might be the two shots of brandy he’d shared with Santa, or that around Paris he thrummed with urgency to take her into his arms and to relive memories of them together, or possibly continue what they’d started on the couch. This was the season of joy and comfort. While he ought to worry about her reaction tomorrow and whether she’d push him away, all that mattered was his moment with Paris now. In their short time, she’d slipped under his skin. He’d been an idiot to believe he was over her. That was never the case, and if he didn’t make a move, he would kick himself.
The corners of Paris’s candy-pink lips pulled upward, and she shyly turned toward the crowd already leaving the hall, heading home. “No denial. So what are we going to do about it?”
“Well…” He rubbed his stubbled jaw and winked. “I can think of a few things.”
She playfully smacked his arm, but he caught her wrist, drawing her toward him. She plastered her free hand against his chest.
“I’m not ready to let you out of my sight,” he insisted, well aware of where this would lead him. But for one night, he prepared to take what he’d missed for too long.
Paris shivered against him, and damn, he adored her reaction. Blonde hair framed her pale skin, her eyes were deep blue. He craved taking her and never letting go.
A smile crept on her lips. “So that’s a no to driving through the storm to make it home to Yalgoo tonight?”
“Nope.” His pulse flickered faster at his thoughts of what he’d love to do to Paris. “I have other intentions.”
She nodded, not pulling away, but rather her fingers snaked across his stomach. “Like what?”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles without a word.
“Oh.” She surveyed the room before her head tilted back to look up at Jett.
Words of caution crossed his mind about not letting himself fall and get hurt again, but he shoved them aside. His plans involved being with the girl who owned his heart.
Jett glanced around. Most guests had left for the night, and Mac and his wife waited near the exit. He checked his watch—close to 10:00 p.m. “Time to leave.”
Paris nodded, and the second she broke free, coldness crawled up his arms.
During their drive from the community hall, the rain worsened and forked lightning streaked the sky as if Hell itself tried to tear the heavens apart. The ground trembled from the thunder as they rushed from the car to Mac’s house.
“You two aren’t going anywhere,” Christine said and switched on the light in the hallway. “Come, I’ll show you the spare rooms to dry off.”
Rooms? If Jett had his way, one bedroom was plenty since he wasn’t sure if he’d get another chance to spend time with Paris without her running off again. Yeah, they had a messed-up past, tangled with emotions and misunderstandings. But considering how his life had turned out, he needed to believe this was the universe’s way of bringing them together. As she stood there, hair dripping wet, her arms hugging herself, staring at him, the heaviness in his chest lightened.
Mac returned with two towels. “I’ll make us all a hot cuppa.”
“Sounds amazing.” Paris joined Christine, and they vanished into a corridor toward the spare bedrooms.
“Son”—Mac slapped Jett on the shoulder—”why not just tell her how you feel?”
Jett turned to his friend, whom he’d always seen as a second father, especially after his own dad passed so long ago.
“I can see the way you stare at her,” Mac continued, rubbing his chin.
Jett dried his hair and face, wiping away the stray raindrops.
“Never seen you this captivated by a girl before. Even Michelle’s daughter didn’t turn you into putty.”
Jett laughed. “Damn, I am getting soft.”
“No. You’re just a man in love. Tell her. She likes you…. She looks at you the same way as you do her.”
Jett lowered the towel from his face. “It’s just… complicated between us.”
Mac shrugged. “Only if you make it so. Best advice my pops gave me is that sometimes you got to go out there, grab what you want, and take it without fear.” After another slap to the back, Mac headed into the kitchen.
Jett stood alone in the hallway, studying the array of portraits of Mac’s children, grandkids, and even their pets—the scene not too much different from Jett’s family home. His head hurt trying to make sense of his emotions, his past, and his next move. Was he ready to have Paris reject him again, or was living without knowing easier to swallow?
Hell!
He marched through the corridor, and Christine hurried toward him from the opposite direction. “Got you in the last room to the left. Paris is right across the hallway from you.”
“Thanks for putting us up tonight. We’ll leave at first light.”
“No rush, Jett. Ever since the kids left, the house feels bare, so it’s wonderful to have company again.” She passed in a flurry.
Jett strolled forward, his sights set on Paris’s room. Without another thought, he knocked, set to follow Mac’s advice. Speaking his thoughts would be easier. Better he knew where he stood, rather than live with hope and comparing every girl he dated with Paris. If this wasn’t the right thing, then he’d move on. For real this time.
With no response, he knocked again and wiped his sweaty palms down his pants. Why was he nervous?
A creak sounded behind him, and he turned to find the door to his bedroom opening. Paris leaned against the frame and wore a sexy grin. She wore dry jeans, a T-shirt, and was barefooted. “Looking for me?”
“You know that’s my room.”
“Sure do.” She grinned, and her devilish expression had him closing the distance between them.
She grabbed a handful of his still-wet shirt and dragged him inside. He kicked the door shut behind him.
“I’m curious to hear more about those intentions you promised earlier,” she said.
He chuckled, loving this wilder, dominant side of Paris. But two could play the game, and he slid an arm around her waist, hauling her nearer. Her hands curled across the nape of his neck, and he held her tight. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, do you?”
She glanced up at him and blinked in slow motion. “Oh, I have a small clue.”
So many words whirled in his head about how he’d dreamed about another chance and wished things turned out differently, but them living apart was a problem. And it bothered him to ask her to find a new career in Yalgoo. He wouldn’t move for Ace’s sake. The discussion would become complicated, heavy, and hard. Instead, he leaned forward, the warmth of her breath on his cheek. Eagerness drove him to pick up where they’d left off and forget the confusion in his head.
Paris lifted herself on tippy toes and kissed him, her honeyed taste imprinting on his brain for eternity. Her lips parted, and she offered him her tongue, which he greedily accepted. When she moaned, his earlier excitement crashed through him threefold. He had to have Paris… all of her.
Pressing her tighter against him, he kissed her with hunger, desperate to inhale as much of her into him as possible. Her soft jasmine fragrance filled him, owned him. Her fingers combed through his hair, drawing him closer, and their breaths mingled.
Jett walked her backward until she hit the wall, and then he slid his hands up the sides of her body, his thumbs caressing the edges of her gorgeous breasts.
She mewled her approval, and he hardened so fast it ached in the best possible way. Clothes had to go.
Jett trailed his fingers along her forearm before lifting them above her head, wrists pinned under his hand. He licked his way along her chin and neck.
Paris giggled. “Tickles.”
He licked his way up to her earlobe and sucked the tiny morsel.
“I missed your mouth so much,” she purred.
He broke away, admiring her flushed cheeks and the desire in her eyes. “Let me show you what else you’ve missed.”
She gasped at his words, and his gaze dipped to the tightness of her nipples pressing against her black T-shirt. Her lower lip slipped between her teeth in an innocent expression that drove him crazy. His hands feathered down her palms, releasing them from his hold, and glided to her hips where he tugged her shirt up and over her head. She pulled it off and tossed it on the floor. Ruby nipples poked out from the white lacy number, calling for his attention.
“You’re beautiful.” He skimmed a strap off her milky shoulder, a sign she hadn’t been spending much time outside. Back in the day, she’d tan after an hour in the sun.
He peeled down the fabric of her bra, and a breast popped out, the perfect size to fit into his mouth, just how he loved.
As he rolled his tongue around her stiff pebble, Paris grasped his hair, moaning. He moved over to the other, enjoying himself and adoring Paris’s groans of pleasure.
“God, Jett.” Her laboured breaths had him hard in seconds.
The moment he tugged at the buttons on her jeans, a knock came at the door. Jett sighed. Worst time to be disturbed.
“Who is it?” Paris asked, tucking away her breasts and reaching for her top.
Jett cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Who else could it be?” he whispered.
“Got your cuppa in the kitchen. Whenever you two are ready,” Mac said.
Jett travelled back in time to when his mum busted them in the family sedan, half undressed. Yep, deciding to make out in his mum’s car while it remained parked at the side of the house wasn’t the smartest move, but it gave them alone time away from the family.
With Paris dragging the top over her head and down her body, she replied, “We’ll be right there.”
She slid her hand into Jett’s, their fingers intertwining, and drew him across the room. He stopped her and glanced at his tented jeans from his erection, making it obvious he was hiding something big. “The only way to quench this is to jump into a freezing lake.”
Paris looked down and smirked. “Don’t you dare,” she said, before chewing on her cheek as she took another long gawk at him. Fine by him.
“You stay here,” she finally said. “I’ll collect our hot teas.”
Before he could respond, she spun and dashed out of the room. He slumped onto the bed, kicked off his boots, and waited. Maybe he’d take this chance to talk to Paris and get his thoughts out before they went any further. Last time they rushed and gave in to their urges, she ended up pregnant. And while terrified at eighteen years old, she insisted on keeping the baby. The situation had scared the hell out of Jett as he’d promised himself to travel the world before having kids, but he readied to do whatever it took for Paris. If that meant putting his life on hold, getting two jobs, he would do it. But before they could tell their parents, she had a miscarriage. It broke his heart, and Paris cried for weeks. It was their secret, and they’d never told a soul. Ever since taking Ace as his own, he often wondered what would have happened if Paris and he hadn’t lost their child.