I grinned down at him, widening my legs and settling myself more fully on his lap. This made him clench his teeth, the muscle ticking at his temple. “I haven’t made out with anyone since high school.”
“What?” His eyebrows jumped. “We just—I just—”
“Oh, no.” I rolled my eyes. “I mean I haven’t just made out with someone since high school. Usually, I skip over all the good stuff and go straight to the other stuff.”
“Like taking a queen or bishop?” He slid his hand up my back, using his fingertips to press me forward.
“Exactly,” I said, my chin lifting as he sought my mouth. “Uh-uh. No kissing. Neither of us took a knight.”
His gaze turned into a mock glare, his lips twisted as though to hide amusement. “All right,” he said, overpronouncing the t, and then shifted me to the side so he could reach the board. He picked up his queen and moved her diagonally until she captured my knight, leaving his most valuable piece exposed to both my bishop and a pawn.
“Now come here.” He pulled me back in place and then cupped my cheeks with his large palms, his eyes zeroed in on my mouth.
“Are you kidding? That was a terrible move. I’m just going to take your—Mmm . . .”
I never finished the thought because he captured my mouth, his lips a hot press. My head swam, my toes curled, and he held me still, breathing in through his nose. I expected him to deepen the kiss right away, but he didn’t. He withdrew, his thumb caressing a line along my cheekbone before he returned for another press, angling his head to the side, playing with my lips.
My fingers fisted in the front of his shirt and I arched my back, shifting restlessly on his lap, wanting more. Yet he still kissed me sweetly, retreating a mere millimeter to brush his mouth softly against mine.
“You have amazing lips.” His voice, just above a whisper, made my chest feel hot and tight and the rest of me feel needy.
I waited for him to add something suggestive like, I can’t wait to see them wrapped around my cock, because why else would he compliment my lips? But the expected statement never came.
“They’re perfect,” he added, then nuzzled my nose before kissing me, pressing slightly harder. His hands returned to my ass, squeezing and massaging as his mouth moved and a grumbly sound reverberated in his chest.
I felt him, between my legs. I felt the hard, solid length of him, and so I rolled my hips, making him gasp. He wrapped his arms around my torso and licked at the seam of my mouth, imploring me to open. Happily, I obeyed, groaning my pleasure as he gave me his tongue and I finally got to play with it. And oh, let me tell you—it was magnificent.
We kissed and kissed and kissed, and I could not get enough of his mouth. Or his stroking hands. Or his strong arms. Or—when I finally had the presence of mind to lift up his undershirt—his stomach and sides. He felt so great, so great, and pretty soon my body took over, rocking against his concealed erection, searching for that lovely, exquisite friction.
“Fuck, Raquel,” he said on a breath, lifting up my shirt to cup my breasts with both hands, the pads of his thumbs stroking back and forth over my nipples. “You are so fucking sexy.”
Spikes of heat erupted all over my skin, little pinpricks, like an electric shock. “So are you, deputy.”
“Jackson. Call me Jackson.”
“Jackson.”
“Wait—wait.” He removed his hands from my chest, sliding them to my hips and holding me still even as his hips thrust upward. “Wait. Stop. I need a minute.”
I stopped moving, though his request confused me. Why take a minute? Why not just ask me to help him out? Did he not want to come?
Pressing his forehead to mine, breathing hard, he gently cupped my jaw and sifted his fingers into my hair. Even though we were close, I could see he’d closed his eyes, scrunched them shut, his face screwed up as though in pain.
“Jackson. Let me help,” I whispered, sliding my hands down the front of his body but not touching the button of his pants. The last time I’d made overtures, he’d withdrawn. I didn’t want to repeat the same mistake.
He chuckled and exhaled a loud sigh. “I haven’t taken your queen.”
I twined my arms around his neck and studied him. All night I’d been admiring his face for being handsome, for being real, but presently I decided I also just really liked his face. He had a great face. Everything about it was great. And I liked looking at it.
“Do you want to keep playing chess?” I asked, my gaze lingering on the slight cleft in his chin, and then moving to the scrumptious fullness of his bottom lip. “Or do you want to do something else?”
He opened his dark eyes and was now studying me in return. “What do you want to do?”
Stay one more day.
I stiffened, blinked, frowned at the completely unbidden and unexpected thought. “I—” I shook my head. “I—uh.”
I couldn’t stay one more day. That would be absurd.
“Do you want to play chess?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
At his words, my heart took off, and I blinked rapidly. Stay one more day, Rae. What’s the harm in staying just one more day? Think of all you could do with this man if you had a whole day. Maybe we could go fishing!
I snapped my mouth shut and swallowed. There was no way I could stay one more day. I had a callback this week for a part I really wanted. I had meetings and lunches and rehearsals. I had a one-night-only rule for a reason. I never stayed. And why on earth would I want to stay here? I didn’t belong here any more than I belonged in the town where I grew up.
Untwining my arms from his neck, I leaned away and rubbed my forehead. “You know, I think I had a little too much wine.”
“You want some water?” He dipped his chin, likely trying to catch my eyes.
I climbed off his lap. “Yeah, I think I’ll go grab some. Do you want any?”
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
I crossed to the bathroom but didn’t shut the door, giving myself a stern, silent, and self-deprecating come-to-Jesus talk in the mirror during the time it took to fill a water glass and drink it.
Flipping off the light as I exited, I looked to the couch for Jackson, but I found him by the bed, buttoning up his dress shirt.
My heart jumped to my throat and I jumped into action. “What are you doing?”
He glanced at me, giving me an easy smile. “Getting dressed.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s getting late.”
“But—but we didn’t finish our game.” I turned to the board and quickly claimed his queen with a pawn. “Ha! Look. You lost your queen.”
His smile grew, but not by much. “You have an early flight. You should get some sleep.”
I paced over to him but stopped myself from reaching out and grabbing his arm. “If you want to go, you should go. But I don’t want you to go if you don’t want to go. I’d—” I swallowed, for courage. “I’d like you to stay.” So much for not chasing my snacks.
I caught myself, nearly frowning at the discordant thought, and assembled my features into a mask of friendly and flirty patience. And as we traded stares, I couldn’t help but think, This guy, he’s not a snack. Deputy James—Jackson—he was a meal. And not a Thanksgiving meal or a dinner party get-together. He wasn’t someone to be saved for special occasions. He was an everyday favorite. No matter how many times or how often you partook, you always looked forward to the next time.