Page 227 of Wait for Him

"Jax, I'm so close."

I wrap one hand around her throat and slap the side of her breast with the other, and her pussy clamps down on me instantly.

"Good. Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you." The growl rolls out of me as I squeeze a little harder, then release, driving into her brutally hard.

"OH G—"

I clamp my free hand over her mouth just in time, and her scream muffles against my palm as her entire body quakes, her pussy pulsing around me in waves that wreck whatever restraint I had left. Two more thrusts and I'm gone, spilling into her with my face buried between her breasts, groaning her name into her skin while she shakes through the last of it above me.

She peels one palm off the ceiling and drags my hand from her mouth, lacing our fingers.

"Gerald definitely heard that," she pants.

"Gerald has a partition and a pension. He'll survive."

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rose

"No way." James turns slow circles in the middle of the room, taking everything in. "No. Freaking. Way."

"You like it?" I ask, and I hate that I can hear the nerves in my own voice.

I agonized over this. Worried he'd think I was trying to buy his love. Worried Samson and Lauren would think I was overstepping. Worried he'd walk in, see the room, and feel like I'd made some massive assumption about where I fit in his life. I came up with at least a hundred ways this could go wrong, and every single one of them evaporated the second his face lit up.

Jackson and I have worked tirelessly over the past few weeks getting James his own room in our place.

Our place.

It's been weeks, and that still sounds weird.

Jackson finally moved into the Sullivan building, and I took a unit on Michael's floor, directly across the hall. Well, two units. We knocked down the wall between them because once I decided James needed a room here, that somehow became James needs a bedroom, a full robotics workspace, proper ventilation, enough electrical capacity to prevent him from burning down the building or half a fucking apartment.

The final touches went in this week. He can come whenever he wants, stay as long as he wants, and there's a key sitting on the desk with his name on it.

"Like it?" James turns toward me, incredulous. "I love... is that a robotic arm?! Holy shi..." His hand flies over his mouth. "...Snickers bar. Holy freaking Snickers bar, Batman."

Jackson chuckles in my ear.

He's not actually here. He's listening through the phone with one AirPod tucked into my ear because he wanted to be part of the moment without inserting himself into it.

Just James and you, he'd said. Mother and son.

I love him for that.

"It is. Anything you can think of has been installed, so you can build whatever you want. I talked to your mom and dad about everything first, obviously, and they okayed it. But this is completely up to you, James. Whenever you want to visit, it's here. If you want to stay over, great. If you don't, also great. I know this is a big step, and I don't expect you to suddenly start spending weekends or summers here or anything. I don't have any expectations."

I'm wringing my hands now.

Fuck.

I'm tanking.

"And if you'd rather, I can set something like this up in your bedroom at home. Actually, that might've been smarter. I probably should've asked you first instead of doing all of this and then springing it on you because now there's pressure even though I'm specifically saying there's no pressure, which probably creates its own kind of pressure and..."

"Ma."

"...I can move the equipment if you..."