Page 22 of Easy On Me

Abandoned me.

Jase brushed his lips over my forehead, and I pushed him back. “I don’t need your pity.”

He squeezed my hip, firm enough to be a slight warning. “That’s empathy, sugar dumpling.”

“What did you just call me?” I levered up on an elbow and glared.

Hair mussed because of my hands earlier, a hint of stubble darkening his rough-cut jaw, he grinned.

Shaking my head, I subsided into him. Sugar dumpling. He was lame as fuck.

“How long were you with her?”

“Until I was four. Then foster care, home to home to home.” I paused, pulling in a deep breath, holding it, releasing it, grounding myself in the popcorn swirls in the ceiling. Right there was the hairline crack in the plaster. I could look at that instead of the memories. I’d gotten something out of the counseling Mama Nancy had insisted on. I appreciated now that she hadn’t let me quit then. “A group home when I was fifteen. That didn’t last long.”

Silence blanketed us, broken by the clunking hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, the hiss of air from the HVAC vents, his easy breathing. The weight of his hand at my hip was a comfort.

“Then I ended up with Mama Nancy. She’d gotten a divorce and was about to retire, and I guess she needed something to do.”

His surprised chuckle vibrated above my ear. I smiled into his chest.

“I thought maybe I’d just age out with her, but she wanted to adopt me. I met Maggie then, too, and Marilyn, so I kinda had sisters.”

“I’m glad you have them.” He traced a pattern at my waist. “Is she gonna like me?”

Rolling my eyes, I lifted to an elbow to pin him with a stern look. “I’m not stroking your ego.”

“It’s a valid question. What she thinks of me matters because you care what she thinks.”

I compressed my lips, imagining Mama Nancy’s reaction to him. She’d tried to tell me Colt wasn’t it, like maybe she’d seen something in him before I did. Now, I looked at Jase through her eyes. “She’ll probably love you.”

That slow grin stretched his mouth once more. I smacked his belly, hard enough to evoke a grimace in the place of that grin.

“Don’t be smug.”

“I can’t help my mama and daddy raised me right.” The teasing words emerged seconds before his eyes widened with horror, and his mouth went slack. “I’m–”

“Don’t.” I shook my head. “If I was mad because someone else had a good childhood, I’d be mad all the time. I’m glad you had great parents, glad whenever I meet someone with good parents, because no one deserves what I had.”

His jaw clenched under that tempting stubble. “Pisses me off you had a shitty childhood.”

Me, too, but I tried to move beyond the anger. “I got Mama Nancy out of the deal. She’s worth it.”

His features settled into that determined look I was beginning to know well. “I’m gonna be so good to you, sugar dumpling.”

I ignored the thrill of his vow and narrowed my eyes at the awful endearment. “That’s the worst pet name ever.”

With that wonderful grin, he rolled to loom over me, all broad shoulders and muscled arms. His hard thigh pressed between mine. My belly fluttered in response.

“I like sugar dumpling.” He dipped his head to bump his nose against mine. “Because you’re sweet and a little soft and–”

“Sweet?” I choked on a laugh, snaking my hands around his waist. He had these dimples above his ass, and I loved charting them. “And soft. You think I’m sweet and soft.”

He sobered, a serious expression that made me squirm because he saw too much – and liked what he saw. That look left me feeling naked. “I do.”

That held the sincerity of a vow, too, and I couldn’t hold that. Instead, I linked my hands at his nape and pulled his mouth down to mine, pulled us into the physical lust that I could hold.

“Thank you for calling Coney Ford.” I doodled a stylized heart on my desk pad. The day was slow, and I was bored out of my mind. “How can I direct your call?”