Finding Jessie: A Mystery Romance (13 page)

All of that surprised him. Obviously, she had a lot of sexual issues, more than he expected. “Okay, Jessie. You let me know, by your body’s responses, what feels good and what you are comfortable with.” He reclined on the bed and opened his arms for her.

She went into them with a sweet sigh and a soft kiss to the pulse in his neck. “This makes me comfortable. Being on top. For now.”

“That works for me, too. Just keep communicating your needs, okay, my darling?”

“Okay, Sam. Am I too heavy on your bad back?”

“No. Never. You’re like warm feathers on me.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

They kissed slowly and tenderly.

“You feel like an answered prayer,” he said. “So sweet and warm.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” she said.

Sam gently pulled her on top of him and held her for a long time. He let her decide what was next. He stroked her hair and her cheeks. “You all right?”

“Getting there.”

“Take your time.”

She laid on top of him and leaned over and kissed his mouth, the red silky bounty of her hair like a shining curtain around their heads. It veiled their faces from everything in the room but each other. She leaned forward a bit more and the tips of her nipples brushed his lips—they were like cake frosting roses—
that delicate
. He kissed them and drew them into his mouth gently, rolling them each in turn on his tongue, until she gasped in pleasure.

When she could bear the wait no more, she leaned back on her heels for a moment and his hands moved to where his lips had been, his fingers and palms massaging and caressing her breasts until she began to moan softly. And then when she moved off of him, she laid next to him and nodded for him to enter her.

Instead, he began to kiss and touch her at her very center, until she opened her legs slightly for him. His gentle hands caressed her ankles and he knew, surely, that it was the sweetest taste of a woman that he had ever known. She was his Jessie, whimpering and shaking under him, crying out his name over and over until she arched her back and then gasped sharply, then fell back on the pillows, her fingers tangled in his salt-and-pepper hair.

He stayed between her legs, caressing her gently, softly, as her fast breathing slowed and then she pushed him back on the bed to do the same to him. He closed his eyes to her earnest tongue, then a bit rougher ministrations of her whole mouth, until he was large and hard, readier than he had ever been, even in his twenties.

To his surprise, Jessie climbed on top of him and slipped him inside her. She rode him slow and long, her hair flowing behind her, like some magical winged creature flying up to the place where goddesses live naked in fluffy clouds and cast down blessings from time to time upon the more fortunate sons of Earth.

When he finally cried out his own release, he felt her pulsing around him also.
Again!

She leaned over and covered his face with kisses and whispered his name over and over, and told him she loved him, which made him so happy.

He kissed her lips. “I love you, too, Jessie. You’re my beautiful dream. You’re my hope, and you’re my joy.”

She smiled sweetly, closing her eyes in happiness. And then she inexplicably burst into tears.

He was alarmed and held her against him. “What happened? Are you hurt or scared or something?”

“No. I’m perfectly happy. I just never knew it before, that feeling that I belong to someone wonderful, yet have my own autonomy. And you’re always very good to me and cherish me.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You deserve to feel every bit of that and more. Every bit of happiness should be ours at this moment.”

“It’s so wonderful. You are.” She lifted her face and smiled at him through her tears. “I’m never going to forget tonight, Sam.”

“Me, neither.”

He held her on top of him, a sweet weight, and stroked her back and rocked her gently as she let out what must have been tears of relief, and hopefully, happiness, too. His heart went out to her, but he knew better than to ask anything that would upset her. He just let her cry it out, never letting up with his tender caresses.

After a minute or two, she stopped crying and he kissed the tears from her cheeks.

“Are you all right now?”

“I am very all right. Thank you for such tender loving care.”

“That’s my job. I’m glad we waited,” he replied.

“So am I. It means something different to make love when we did because all this time has passed and we got to know each other.”

“That was my plan,” he said. “Remember?”

“You are very wise. And patient.”

“I try to be.”

Jessie slid her body from his and snuggled next to him on her side, trembling from the spent desires. He moved to warm her with his own body and they laid there like two spoons curved into each other in a drawer, the droplets of their exertions on their bodies melding them together if they did not get up and bathe. But he didn’t care about being sticky. The droplets, hers and his, were as precious as diamonds. Without a doubt in his heart, he knew he loved her. And that she loved him. He hoped that their couplings would always be so breathtaking and meaningful…

He wanted to kill whoever had hurt her so badly that she had admitted that the past lurked just beneath the surface and haunted her. He wanted to know what had happened to her, and who did it. He wanted to find that bastard and make sure that he was brought to justice and had to pay for the sex crimes against his beautiful, fragile Jessie. There was no doubt in his mind that she was a rape survivor. He wanted to protect her and keep her happy.

He slept with his arms curved around her. He listened to her breathe deeply. Every once in a while, her breathing shuddered a bit in her sleep, probably from the crying jag. He couldn’t sleep, not now. Jessie was
his
.

He had finally claimed her for his own. And now, there was no turning back.

Chapter Eight

About a week later, when Sam came home from the grocery store, Jessie was at the kitchen table with a little girl dressed in a Disney princess dress and a pile of children’s books.

“Who’s your little friend?” asked Sam. He knew who she was, but it would have been impolite to ask what she was doing there.

“This is Cindy, one of Maeve Foster’s grandchildren. Cindy, meet Sam Gold.”

“Very funny! We already know each other. Hi, again, Mr. Sam. Miss Jessie’s been reading to me all day.”

There was a question in Sam’s eyes.
Why is she here?

Jessie replied to the unspoken question. “As you know, Maeve has been taking care of Cindy since her mom and her dad went off to war.”

“My mom and dad are heroes, saving the world from the bad guys,” Cindy piped up. “In the Army.”

“I know. We’re so glad they are helping,” Sam said.

He began putting away the groceries while Jessie continued explaining: “Maeve Foster broke a tooth this morning and had to go have oral surgery, a root canal and a crown, I think. So, we are going to look after Cindy for a couple of days and hopefully her granny will be feeling better soon.”

Sam stopped in his tracks. As many decades as he had owned his house, this was the first time a child had spent the night.

“Oh, great! A sleepover!” he said.

“Yeah! A sleepover! Granny thinks you and Miss Jessie should get married since you already have a lot of sleepovers,” said Cindy. She giggled.

“Is that so, Miss Cindy-rella?” replied Sam, putting the newspapers on the kitchen table and ruffling the hair on Cindy’s head. The little girl giggled some more and blushed a bit.

“Yes,” Cindy replied. “I think so, too. But the reason I think you should get married is because the cakes are so pretty. I’m going to get married just so I can have a cake with the boy and girl dolls on the top.”

“Not too soon, I hope,” Jessie told her.

“Not as soon as you and Mr. Sam,” Cindy replied.

Sam blushed.

Out of the mouths of babes!
the angel on his shoulder whispered in his ear.

Sam groaned. He was still not the marrying kind.

“Are you really going to sleep here?” Sam asked Cindy, hoping to change the subject away from weddings.

“I’m going to sleep on your blue couch, Mr. Sam. I don’t wet the bed anymore. I’m seven!”

“Good to know.” Sam rolled his eyes a bit. “Miss Jessie, could I see you in the living room, please? You stay here and read a storybook, okay, Cindy?”

“Okay, Mr. Sam.”

Jessie followed Sam into the living room where he sat heavily on the couch. “I’ve never had a child spend the night in this house. It’s not child-proof. The cats aren’t child-proof. The child isn’t cat-proof. But most of all, I’m not child-proof!”

“Sam! It was an emergency and she’s just a little girl, the cutest I’ve ever seen.”

Sam laughed. “I told you. She’s the spitting image of Shirley Temple in those old movies.”

“She is! So, what harm could it do to help your neighbor in her time of need? Mrs. Foster has fed you a lot and mended your missing buttons for you and hemmed your pants and brought in your mail when you had the flu. Now it’s payback time.”

“That’s all true. But there is nothing more dangerous than a little girl.”

Ha!
the angel said in his ear.
It’s the big girls who are dangerous.

Jessie smiled and folded her arms across her chest, a gesture he had never seen her make. “A little girl is dangerous? Please do explain.”

“She could wreak havoc in here. I have rare books and rare papers and my—things!”

“For heaven’s sake, she’s not the Tasmanian Devil. She’s charming and easily entertained. I will
completely
take care of her. Get a grip and enjoy her while you can.” Jessie gave him a strange look. “I had no idea that you did not like children.”

“I don’t know if I like children. I like her. A lot. I’ve never been around her much, except talking to her through the fence and reading her books through the fence. Or sitting across her kitchen table at Maeve Foster’s house, eating colcannon.”

“What the heck is that?”

“It’s Irish mashed potatoes with cabbage.”

“Eww!”

“Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it. But, back to Little Miss Cindy. I’ve never held a child nor bathed one. And certainly, none have ever spent the night in this house since I have owned it.”

“I’ll do all of it. They make you
that
nervous?”

“Exceedingly. They are so small! What if a pile of books collapses on her? What if she chokes or has a nightmare? What do I do?”

Jessie laughed. “You’re scared to death of her! You’re scared to death you’ll like her so much that you’ll want one of your own.”

Sam opened his mouth in surprise. “Are you insane, Jessie? I’m fifty-seven!”

He was spared her rejoinder by a little girl’s urgent request.

“Miss Jessie, where’s the bathroom please? I have to
make
!” came the urgent call from the kitchen.