Love Rents A Room -
Chapter 122: Claiming Her
Chapter 122: Claiming Her
Did I finally find my person?
And was that person truly Jeffrey Winchester?
Joanne’s mind raced with questions, doubts creeping in like shadows in the night. He had been there for her—even when he had forgotten their past, even when he didn’t know the depth of who she was to him. And yet, he had stayed.
Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them, slipping down her cheek. She wiped them away, shaking her head at herself. It had been a long time since she had someone in her corner, someone who didn’t just say they’d stand by her but actually did.
But did his words really matter? He still couldn’t tell her who he truly was.
Joanne knew people and their empty promises. She had learned to recognize when words were hollow, when affection was fleeting. And yet... she wanted to believe in him.
Prove it to me, Jeffrey Winchester. Prove that I mean something to you.
She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him. He shifted, his body relaxing as he rested his head against her chest. His breath fanned against her skin, warm and steady, while his fingers traced lazy circles along her arm. His hair pricked against her neck, and the weight of him pressed into her—a grounding, intimate presence.
Joanne’s lips curled into a soft smile. This was okay. She liked simple moments like this. She craved them. She craved him.
"What did Caruso say?" she asked, mostly to change the subject. Jeffrey still seemed a little out of it, and she didn’t want him spiraling into his thoughts again.
She considered asking if he had been crying. But she knew men—some saw it as weakness, an accusation rather than an observation. The thought that he might have shed tears because he feared losing her only made her heart swell.
But... what could she do? Men were built differently.
"Caruso?" Jeffrey mumbled, his voice thick with drowsiness. He didn’t want to talk. Her breasts were too cushiony, too comforting, and staying awake was becoming an uphill battle.
Still, he fought the sleepiness, exhaling a small chuckle. "He grumbled about how he was forced to defend me earlier today..." He smirked, recalling the way Caruso’s pride had made it difficult for him to admit he actually cared.
Joanne smiled knowingly. "Of course he did."
Jeffrey scooted up slightly, shifting her to rest against his arm. His hand splayed possessively over her waist as he studied her face in the dim light.
"He said he’s never doing that again," Jeffrey continued, amusement flickering in his tired eyes. "And that he was so mad at you for visiting him."
Joanne let out a laugh. "That sounds about right."
"But it was painfully obvious," Jeffrey added, smirking, "that what he actually wanted to say was that he’d do it for you anytime, anywhere. He was just angrier that you hadn’t told him about his nephew escaping prison when we met him."
Joanne shook her head with a chuckle. "Stubborn old man."
"He was one mad man," Jeffrey agreed, stretching slightly. "Berated everyone for trying to push you down. Then, of course, he had to blame the entire town for ’accepting mediocrity and hating excellence—true to your heritage,’" Jeffrey added in a mock imitation of Caruso’s gruff tone.
Joanne let out a louder laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, of course. He had to bring my heritage into it."
Jeffrey’s gaze softened. "But he admires you," he said, voice quieter now. "That was clear."
Joanne stilled, something warm unfurling in her chest.
Admiration. Respect. Love, even in its own stubborn way.
She had spent so long fighting to prove her worth, to carve her own space in a world that never made room for her. But hearing that? Hearing that someone saw her, acknowledged her, believed in her...
That meant everything.
They lay entangled in each other’s embrace, bare skin against bare skin, their breaths syncing in the quiet hum of the night. Conversations had drifted from one thing to another—soft whispers, laughter between kisses, the kind of intimacy that needed no pretense.
Jeffrey pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her waist as he nestled her against his chest. "You should sleep," he murmured, his voice low, lips grazing the shell of her ear.
Joanne wanted to sleep. She should sleep. But like this? Wrapped in his warmth, feeling his heartbeat against her spine, his breath hot against her neck? How could she possibly close her eyes when her body was so achingly aware of his?
She bit her lip, frustration curling deep inside her. Did he not want her as much as she wanted him? He was holding her, yet keeping his hips just far enough away as if to restrain himself.
Seriously?
Must he care about her this much when they both wanted this?
A slow, mischievous smile curled on her lips. She entwined her fingers with his, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing his knuckles softly. Then, ever so deliberately, she guided his palm over her chest, pressing it against her softness, letting him feel the heat of her desire.
She barely had time to register his sharp intake of breath before she felt it—his resolve shattering like glass.
His fingers curled, kneading her slowly, reverently, like he was committing her to memory. His breathing grew heavier, his lips parting against her neck as he let out a deep, guttural sound. His hips, once hesitant, rolled forward, pressing flush against her.
Her pulse quickened.
She turned in his embrace, wanting to face him, to see the fire in his eyes, but he didn’t let her. Instead, he pinned her exactly as she was—her back against his chest, his body cocooning her in warmth.
Then, without warning—
Thrust.
Her breath hitched, fingers gripping the sheets as pleasure rippled through her in waves.
She instinctively parted her thighs to make room, but his voice, deep and commanding, sent a shiver down her spine.
"Keep them together."
She obeyed.
And God, the sensation—deeper, fuller, utterly consuming—had her gasping as he moved. His touch was everywhere, his hands exploring, worshipping. One hand trailed lower, teasing and igniting pleasure at her core, while the other traced slow, torturous circles over her peaked skin. His lips brushed her neck, pressing kisses between shallow, ragged breaths, and she melted into his embrace, into his rhythm, into him.
Tonight, he was not just holding her.
He was claiming her.
If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.
Report