The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

weight on top of her in these moments where there was no war, no danger, no looming deadline for their separation. In this bed, there were only the two of them, communicating with their bodies when words failed.

She moaned at the indescribable pleasure that coiled tight within her belly, and he kissed her deep, swallowing the sound. They’d nearly perfected the art of quiet sex in the past few months.

“I can never get enough of you,” he whispered against her mouth.

She whimpered in reply and arched her hips harder against his, hooking one ankle around the small of his back and urging him on. Close. She was so close.

He gripped her thigh and raised her knee toward her chest, taking her deeper, then ground his hips in maddening circles with every thrust, keeping her on that tight edge of pleasure, hovering without falling.

“Jameson,” she begged, burying her hands in his hair.

“Say it,” he demanded with a grin and another stroke.

“I love you.” She lifted her head and brought her lips to his. “My heart, my soul, my body—it’s all yours.” It was always the love you that shook his control, and this time was no exception.

“I love you,” he whispered, slipping his hand between them and using his fingers to push her over the edge. Her thighs locked, her muscles trembled, and she heard him whisper, “Scarlett, my Scarlett,” as the orgasm swept over her in waves.

When she screamed, he covered her mouth with his, and a few strokes later, he joined her, tensing above her as he found his release.

They were a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and smiles as he rolled them to the side.

“I never want to leave this bed,” he said as he lifted a strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

“Excellent plan,” she agreed, running her fingertips down his chiseled chest. “Do you think it will always be like this?”

He palmed her backside. “An insatiable need to get each other naked?”

“Something like that.” She grinned.

“God, I hope so. I can’t think of anything better than the honor of chasing you out of your clothes for the rest of my life.” He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed.

“Even when we’re old?” She brushed the back of her hand over his jawline, rough with stubble.

“Especially when we’re old. We won’t have to keep it quiet for the kids down the hall.”

At that, they fell silent, both listening for William’s imminent call for breakfast, but he was still sleeping—or at least happily silent.

Scarlett’s chest tightened. Three days. That’s all they had left before she was due to leave. Jameson had gotten the message from his uncle yesterday. How long would they be apart? How long would this war last? What if these were the last three days she would ever spend with him? Each question tightened the vise in her chest until every breath was painful.

“Don’t think about it,” he whispered, his gaze flickering over her face as though he needed to memorize every feature.

“How do you know what I’m thinking about?” She tried to smile, but it wasn’t there.

“Because it’s all I think about,” he admitted. “I wish there were any other way to keep you with me, to keep him safe.”

She nodded, biting her lip to keep the trembling at bay. “I know.”

“You’re going to love Colorado,” he promised, a spark of joy lighting his eyes. “The air is thinner, and that might take some getting used to, but the mountains are so tall, it’s as if they’re reaching for the sky. It’s beautiful, and honestly, the only thing I’ve ever seen bluer than the Colorado sky is your eyes. My mother knows you’re coming, and she has the house set up for you and William. Uncle Vernon will help you through immigration, and who knows, you might even have that book of yours finished by the time I get home.”

It didn’t matter how pretty the picture he painted, because he wasn’t in it, at least not for the immediate future. But she wasn’t going to say that to him. Their goodbyes were days away, and she knew she needed to stay strong, not only for Jameson, but for William. There was no use lamenting or whining. Her visa had been approved two weeks ago, their path was set, and now there was work to be done—two lives that needed to be packed.

“I’m not taking the phonograph.” It was the one point of contention between them.

“Record player, and my mother told me to bring it back.”

She quirked a brow. “I thought your mother told you to bring it back with you, alive.” She ran her fingers through his hair, committing the feel of the strands to memory.

“Tell her I’m sending it home with my life, because that’s what you and William are. You are my life.” He cupped her cheek and looked at her with so much intensity that she felt his gaze like a touch. “When we look back on this, it will be nothing more than a blip on our timeline.”

Her stomach twisted. The only blips she was familiar with were the kind that showed incoming bomber raids.

“I love you, Jameson,” she whispered fiercely. “I’m only willing to go for William’s sake.”

“I love you, too. And the fact that you’re willing to go to keep William safe only makes me love you more.”

“Three days,” she whispered, already breaking her stay-strong motto.

“Three days,” he repeated, forcing a smile. “The cavalry is coming, my love. American forces are on their way, and who knows, by this time next year, this all might be over.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Why, Scarlett Stanton,” he teased. “Are you saying you won’t wait for me?” The corner of his mouth lifted into what she would almost call a smirk.

“I’ll wait for you forever,” she promised. “Will you be okay, here without me?”

“No,” he answered softly. “I won’t be okay until I’m with you again. You’re taking my heart with you. But I will live,” he swore, bringing