“No, no. Jackson. I didn’t want you to stop. I want you. I wanted to—”
He wasn’t looking at me now, and he exhaled a short, disbelieving breath. Grabbing his other wrist, I tried moving into his space to kiss him, but he lifted his chin.
“Don’t,” he said, twisting his arms to force my hands off.
“Jackson,” I pleaded. “Wait. Wait. Just wait.” He still had the condom on. He was still urgently hard. We could still make this happen.
He didn’t wait. He turned for a drawer and pulled out a pair of boxer briefs. “I’m not angry, Rae. I promise. I just need to know that if you’re not into it—”
I snatched his boxers, holding them hostage behind my back. “I am. I am so very into it. And I’d love nothing more than for us to get back to it.”
“Then why don’t I believe you?” Finally, Jackson gave me his eyes, and I could see that he wasn’t angry. He was hurt. “Why wouldn’t you look at me? What did I do wrong?”
Ugh. I tried swallowing. I couldn’t. “Jackson—” Oh no.
I was going to tell him. I was going to say it.
Don’t! Don’t say it. No one loves you. He won’t either. He won’t—
He lifted his hands like he was going to touch my arms but then drew back at the last minute, instead wiping a palm over his face. “I need some air. Will you give me back my boxers, ple—”
“I’m in love with you!”
AAAAHHHH!!! STOP!
But I couldn’t stop. Now that the words were out there and I was naked, bared to him, my feelings wanted to grab the baseball bat and knock down the wasp’s nest. “I’m in love with you, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I’m terrified that you don’t, but it’s okay if you don’t because that would seem to fit within the scope of feelings people have for me, so again, it’s totally fine . . . if you don’t.”
I shut my eyes as soon as my clumsy confession lost steam. Just barely, barely resisting the urge to go jump in the lake and swim away from whatever the repercussions of those words would be.
He breathed out again, another short sound of disbelief, but the sound wasn’t as sharp. I waited. And I waited. And I felt his gaze on me. And he said nothing.
Tears built behind my closed eyes and closed my throat. I felt my chin wobble, but I nodded. Okay. “Okay.” I supposed that was that. No point in holding his underwear hostage anymore, so—
His hands grabbed my face and his mouth crashed down on mine, and we were kissing before I realized we were kissing. He backed me up the single step to the bed, his marauding mouth moving like a starved man, teeth and tongue and lips overwhelming my senses. His hands were now everywhere, like he didn’t know where to touch first. Like he wanted to hold all of me at once.
I dropped his briefs and gripped his upper arms to keep my balance. Still connected, still kissing each other with absolutely frantic abandon, Jackson laid me back on the bed and followed me down, kneeing my legs apart. His body came over mine, and still we kissed. He reached between us, fingering my slick opening, sliding two inside with absolutely no resistance, his thumb circling me and stoking the frenzied fire higher. I moaned. I whimpered. And still we kissed.
I turned my face to breathe, but he allowed only two gasping breaths before he claimed me again, removing his hand, positioning himself, and sliding right in with one forceful thrust.
My head pressed back against the cushions at the sudden invasion, my pelvis tilting instinctively to receive him as a sense of glorious fullness coiled and uncoiled the pooling warmth in my lower stomach.
Then and only then did he lift his mouth, muttering a curse, taking the Lord’s name in vain, and pressing our foreheads together as he moved with the grace of someone who was exceptionally skilled—or perhaps possessed innate talent—at making a woman lose her mind.
He didn’t pound or piston into me, but stroked in this indescribable way, his pelvis reminding me of an ocean wave with each return and retreat. I listened to us, the quiet, gentle sounds we made as we joined, our kisses, his breath, my sighs.
“You feel so perfect,” he whispered, his eyes closed, his mouth moved to my neck to suckle and sip. “I want to stay inside you forever.”
“Please do,” I gasped, trying to mimic his expert movements, but I wasn’t as good at this. My attempts felt inelegant and grasping compared to the artistry with which he used his body. I wasn’t going to last. This felt—this felt—
“Jackson!” My hands slid along the hard planes of his back, and I tried to stop my nails from digging into his skin, but I needed to grab something, or bite something. I felt stretched and full to bursting everywhere, like I might tear starting at my chest, and the sensations felt so painfully good, both bliss and agony.
My back arched, all the muscles in my body flexing at the same time, and my mouth opened on a soundless scream as white bursts of light blinded my vision.
Jackson shifted positions. I felt him rise up to his knees and lift my hips, widening my thighs that wanted to clamp together, and that’s when he pounded. That’s when he pistoned, hitting just the right spot over and over and over, and that’s when my screams were no longer silent.
Grabbing fistfuls of the bedcover, I tumbled into complete and utter mindlessness, where I was nothing but sensation and feeling, and my body and all of it hurt so fucking good. This was a place I’d never visited, didn’t know existed, and I knew it was no accident I’d found it with Jackson.
“I love you,” I heard myself say. I couldn’t keep it inside me.
Jackson came as soon as the words left my mouth, and I knew he came because his careful, meticulous movements meant to maximize my enjoyment became something altogether not meticulous or careful, but greedy and graceless. And yet somehow more than perfect, and so damn sexy.
He seemed to spiral down from his high all at once, returning to my body with hungry, biting kisses for my stomach and breasts, shoulders and arms. He nuzzled my neck, giving me his weight and pressing his hips forward. He was still inside me, and a growly, grumbling sound reverberated from his chest.
“We’re not leaving this cabin today,” he said, sucking my earlobe into his mouth, sending wonderful shivers racing to my toes. How my nerve endings still functioned after the intensity of those orgasms, I had no idea.
“We’re not?” I hadn’t yet caught my breath, I felt like I’d run a million miles.
“No. Not until you believe and accept how much I love you.”
My body stiffened, and I pulled my head to the side, staring at him, shocked. “You love me?” My voice cracked on the question, betraying the enormity of my current feelings on the subject.
His eyes softened as they held mine. “Rae, that you even have to ask means we’ll be here for a while.”
This was the first time someone had touched me and it felt important. The way he looked at me, the way his eyes traced my nose to my lips. How he smiled when I smiled and frowned when I frowned. It all felt important. Like I should be taking notes for a later test, or filming it all for later review. I needed to keep it, hold it close, far from everyone else. I needed to keep it safe and protected. But I also wanted to take an ad out in Variety and scream about it from the tallest building, I love this man, he is important to me!