Jack (The Family Simon 2)

Donovan’s heart swelled and, goddammit, were those tears poking the corner of her eyes again? How the hell could she be crying when she felt to incredibly fulfilled?

“I love you Jack,” she said fiercely. “So much.”

She felt the pull inside, that coil unfurling hot and sweet and sharp as they raced toward orgasm. Jack strained beneath her, sweat glistening on his forehead, his curls damp once more.

They were one. Connected in a way meant only for the two of them.

When she came, she came hard, her muscles contracting tightly, her body awash in fire and pleasure. Jack came seconds later, and as she continued to ride him, to take whatever he had left, she collapsed against his chest and bit her lip because it was that beautiful.

For a long time, the two of them strained against each other. It was as if they were afraid to lose their connection. To lose something that they’d just found.

“Hey,” Jack said quietly. “Are you okay?”

Donovan nodded. She couldn’t speak. There was no way to articulate what was going on inside her.

“I need to see your face.”

She exhaled shakily and tilted her head, but it wasn’t enough for Jack. He sank one hand into her hair while the other wiped away her tears. He was silent for a few moments, and God help her, but she was going to cry again.

What the hell was wrong with her?

“I’ve never stopped loving you, Donnie. Even when I’d convinced myself that it was over I knew. Deep down I knew there was only you. Some things in life are absolute. Living. Dying. Breathing. My love for you is absolute. My need to be with you is absolute.”

He kissed her nose and rested his forehead against hers.

“Yesterday when you were missing, I lost it.”

“Jack,” she whispered.

“I fucking lost it,” he continued. “If anything had happened to you, I’m not sure what I would have done. All I could think about was my life without you, and it was pretty fucking dark. I’m telling you right now that there is no more Jack or Donovan. There’s only us.”

That was it. She was done for. Donovan gasped and began to cry like a baby. Jack must have thought she was crazy, but he said nothing. He did what he’d always done. He gave her what she needed. He held her. Stroked her hair and murmured words of love and desire and need.

The sun continued to rise and under the warmth of that ethereal light, they both fell asleep again.

Chapter Twenty-three

* * *

Jack woke up feeling way too damn good. Maybe he should be nervous about that fact. It had been a long time since he’d woken feeling so content. But hell, he decided he was gonna roll with it. No reason to stress. He stretched and laid in the tangle of bed sheets, savoring the feeling for as long as he could.

He could still smell Donovan and wondered where she was. Shower maybe?

Someone had drawn the blinds, had to be Donovan, and he had no idea what time it was. Did it matter? Did anything matter other than the fact that he and Donovan had somehow managed to get something right? After all this time, it seemed they were finally on the right track.

Coco jumped onto the bed, and Jack stroked his head absently for a few seconds before rolling over. He slid out of bed and grabbed his boxers, slipping them on before heading out to find Donovan.

He was halfway across his bedroom when he heard a guitar, and with a grin, he made his way downstairs.

Where was she?

On bare feet he padded across the great room and followed the sound of music to the sun room out back, Coco on his heels. Jack scooped up the little guy and leaned against the doorframe, listening to her as her fingers flew over the fret board, pulling out a melody as pretty as the sunrise.

When she started to sing, he froze. Jesus. He’d forgotten how good she was. Her voice was like smoke and whiskey, full bodied and fluid. Her range was impressive, her pitch spot on, and the edge that made her stand out from the crowd, that little bit of rasp that was all hers, was better than ever.

She could soar to the eagles and fall in an instant, her voice incredibly intimate, raw and real.

And then there was her guitar picking. The girl wasn’t just good, she could play with the best of them. He’d seen her perform at the Opry several times with the greats, and she’d left the stage with a bunch of dropped jaws in her wake and a crowd gone crazy.