Bad Boys of Romance(15)

Opening the door, I gasp when I see Switch standing there. He looks devastated. My heart immediately aches for him and I pull him into my arms. He goes willingly, his arms wrapping around my waist and crushing me to him. I can’t breath too well, but I don’t complain, I just hold him until he releases me slightly and walks us back to my couch.

He arranges me in his lap, his finger drawing circles on my thigh.

I don’t speak yet. I just give him time. He’ll open up when he wants to.

“Amber’s at rehab,” he states simply, his voice emotionless.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I say sincerely, as I rub his arm. It’s not something I’ve ever had to do, so I can only imagine the conflicting range of emotions he’s feeling right now.

“She fucking killed it,” he growls suddenly.

“Killed what?”

“My baby,” he whispers, his shoulders slumping.

Oh my god!

My chest constricts.

“Switch,” I whisper, cupping his jaw with my palm. “I’m so sorry.” Tears burn the back of my eyes.

“What sort of woman does that, Jenna? Jesus Christ, what kind of monster did I fucking marry?”

Oh my god.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit helplessly. “I have no idea why she would do such a thing, Switch, I really don’t. But, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him tight. He buries his head into the crook of my neck, his heavy breathing skating across my skin, warming it.

“Are you okay?” I ask when he pulls back.

“I will be. I just can’t wrap my head around it. She fell pregnant so I’d marry her and when she got what she wanted, she killed our baby. I don’t get it.” He shakes his head sadly.

I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry, again, so I don’t say anything. I just run my fingers continuously up the back of his neck and into his hair before coming back down again and repeating the process. Hopefully it’s soothing him.

After a while, his eyes meet mine. A charge ignites between us and the room fills with thick sexual tension. His hand that is resting on my lower back, snakes up my spine until he grips my neck. Then, he guides my mouth to meet his.

My heart kicks up a notch and I bring my hands around to cup his stubbly jaw. His tongue sneaks out to trace along my lips and I immediately open up to him. The kiss is slow and deep, but no less passionate than it is full of lust. This kiss is about healing him, not about seducing each other.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against my lips.

“What for?” I smile.

“For being you. I know this probably isn’t the right time to talk about this, but I want to be with you, Jenn. I think you know that already. I know I’m probably not the kind of man you saw yourself being with, but I promise you, that if you give me a chance, I’ll prove to you I can be that man.”

I look deep into his beautiful blue eyes, shadowed with sadness and littered with deception inflicted by a woman who betrayed him in the worst possible way. As much as I would like to say that I need to sit down and weigh up the pros and the cons, I know that I don’t have to. I want this man, despite everything else that is going on, I want him. Body and soul. All of him.

“Okay,” I whisper and then smile, my eyes shining with tears.

His lips meet mine again and our kiss takes a turn. The room heats along with my blood and the dull throb between my legs that I’ve become accustomed to when I’m in his presence turns into an incessant ache.

“Let me make love to you,” he whispers against my lips.

I still.

“Jenna?” He pulls back immediately, concern marring his blue depths.

“O-okay.” My need for him overtakes my nervousness.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can wait, baby,” he assures me.

“I want to,” I smile. “I just . . . I’ve never done this before, Switch,” I admit quietly.

“Never done what, baby?” He asks in between peppering kisses down my neck.

Damn, that feels good.

My body shivers.

“Uh, um. Sex.” My words are barely a whisper. I only know he’s heard them because he stops kissing me and pulls back to search my face.

When he sees I’m telling the truth, he leans in and kisses me again. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.” He grabs my face and guides my mouth to his before standing, bringing me up in his arms and carrying me into my room. He lays me down on my bed and then covers my body with his own, his weight pressing me into the mattress in the most delicious way.

My nostrils fill with the scent of leather and fresh air, the scent that is all him, and I revel in it. My fingers go to his vest as I tug it down his arms.