Justifying Jamie

The first time I heard his cheesy pick-up line, he made me laugh.

The next night, his whispered promises made me fall in love.

And then without speaking a word, Jamie Cooper broke my heart.

It wasn’t until he humiliated me beyond repair that I finally accepted the end of us.

But then a life-altering discovery puts me on his doorstep, and the man I thought would never stand at my side was the one who refused to leave it.

He settles his hands on either side of my face and tilts my head up. His fingers shake as they slide around and cup the back of my head, the tips digging into my scalp. The heat from his body pressing against mine gets hotter as the seconds tick by, and I fight my legs from giving out. “Say it again.”

“What?” I say the word, but no sound comes out. He has me speechless with the need dripping from his voice. It’s not natural what he makes my body feel, no matter how hard my brain fights it.

“My name. Say my name.”

My tongue moistens my lips, and I take a shuddering breath as I watch his heated eyes trail fire across my mouth. I hate him right now, but I love the way he’s looking at me. Again. With the same intense desire as I remember, except now there’s an aggression in him that wasn’t there before.

“Jamie,” I whisper.

His forehead falls to mine, and the sight of the vulnerability on his face is too much to witness, so I close my eyes and lose the fight to stay upright. My hands come up to wrap around his wrists, and I dig my nails into his skin to keep from sliding to the floor. He slants an arm down my back and wraps his long fingers around my waist to hold me up. And it feels so good, so right. Like it’s where I was meant to be. “Again.”

Everything in my chest flutters and flips. “Jamie.”

He demands, “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“You.”

“What?”

“What’s your name?”

I open my mouth to tell him, but his hand on my scalp tightens. “Look at me.” No. It’s too much. I can’t. I shake my head, but he isn’t having it. He growls, his body tightening and displaying power without him actually doing anything. “Look at me. Goddammit, look at me, baby.”

His commanding tone and fierce demand make my eyes snap open, and I gasp at the feral possession on his face, remembering how that look made me melt.

“Tell me your name.”

“Mercy,” I whisper, nervous for his reaction.

He licks his lips and repeats it in that deep, husky voice of his. A voice that I swear I’d hear randomly on the radio or in a crowd of people. “Beautiful. Mercy.” My name has never sounded sexier or hotter than right now, rolling down his tongue and out of his mouth. “You’re a beautiful liar.”