Chapter Five

LANEY STOKED THE fire, sending flickers of sparks cracking into the night. Jackson had come back without the clothes, but with the fishing rod, which had gotten stuck on rocks downstream. He’d fished buck-naked until he’d caught enough for dinner, and then they’d made their way back to the campsite. They’d dressed and retrieved their cooking supplies and headed back down by the water to cook. They’d never run into any wild animals, but Jackson was always careful about not cooking near their site. They’d eaten dinner down by the water, washed their pan, plates, and utensils, and then came back to the site to chill.

She loved the smell of burning wood mixing with the scents of the earth and the thick aroma of pine. No matter where she was, those scents always conjured up thoughts of these camping trips. Memories of their camping trips carried her through some of her toughest days. She’d worked her ass off to make Wild Side successful, and there were definitely days when it would be easier to throw her hands up in the air and walk away. At those times she usually turned to Jackson, who was an expert at talking her off the ledge. He didn’t put up with her bullshit rants. He made her face the issues and pick them apart until they felt manageable. Sometimes he was even able to flip the situations around and make her see how handling the issues a certain way might bring her even more success.

Jackson was sharp as a tack when it came to all things business related, and the fact that he knew the fashion industry inside and out also helped. Most people thought his younger brother, Cooper, was the brains behind their amazingly successful photography studio, but Laney knew better. Jackson and Cooper were equally talented and sharp, but Coop was more methodical. He took his time in everything he did, made sure the i’s were dotted and the t’s were crossed, while Jackson’s mind spun in a hundred different directions at once. He was always looking for their next creative move, the most influential people they needed to bring into their studio’s fold. They were both responsible for their photography studio’s success.

Jackson was the one who’d pushed her to start her own magazine and had helped her put together a marketing plan, then made sure she followed through with it. He connected her with industry professionals that proved to be priceless in getting the magazine off the ground—and he put up the capital she’d needed to open the doors. Those who knew them thought that naming the magazine Wild Side had been a credit to Jackson’s assistance, but even though they were wrong, she’d never corrected them. She’d named the magazine Wild Side because with Jackson she could be who she really was at all times. She never had to worry about cushioning her thoughts or holding back sexually. With Jackson, she could show her wild side.

She watched him now, sitting on a blanket reading a few feet away, his long legs stretched out at an angle and crossed at the ankle. He was leaning on one elbow and wearing her favorite flannel shirt, the blue and gray one she’d given him a few years back. He’d worn it so often, it was deliciously soft and worn nearly all the way through at the elbows. She’d already bought him a new one and had it hidden at home for his next birthday.

Her mind shifted to her birthday dinner with Bryce. He was such a nice guy, and they never fought or annoyed each other, which was surprising, since most guys annoyed her in some way. Most guys were either too into sports, or threatened by her success. And then there were the guys who had jumped on the metrosexual train and seemed to have fallen into the clean-cut little-boy car. They shaved all their body hair and took better care of their skin and nails than she did. Bryce didn’t do those things. He worked out at the gym five days a week, and he cared about his appearance, but not in ways that made him effeminate. But he wasn’t superbly manly, either, like Jackson was. When she and Bryce had talked about her going camping this weekend, he’d seemed almost relieved that he wasn’t invited. She couldn’t picture him having sex in the water or trudging naked through the wilderness without a care about who might see him.

He probably would have wrapped himself up in the blanket with her.

In fact, now that she was really thinking about it, he probably would have retrieved the fishing rod immediately after it fell in the water. He was always spouting off about his belongings. He took extra care in parking lots, choosing a spot away from the other vehicles, and when she stayed at his place, he always seemed to go into the bathroom after her and rearrange where she’d put her things—tucking her toiletry bag beneath the sink instead of leaving it out where she could get to it. She didn’t think those things bothered her. She hadn’t given them much thought until now.

Because she hadn’t had a marriage proposal hanging over her head.

An offer of forever.

She glanced at Jackson again, thinking about how easily they moved around each other. At Jackson’s place, she put her stuff wherever she wanted. In fact, from the day he’d first moved into his apartment, he’d left a few of his dresser drawers empty for her. She’d joked about him one day getting a girlfriend, who would freak out at seeing another woman’s lingerie in his bedroom. He’d smirked and said, That will never happen. He’d lived there for five years, and he’d been right.

He lifted his eyes to hers and smiled as he put a bookmark in his book and set it to the side. “Are you done mulling?”

He knew her so well. Bryce might not have even noticed she was deep in thought.

Why was she suddenly picking apart Bryce? He wasn’t there to defend himself.

“I don’t think I’m done,” she said with a smile. “But I can take a break from it.”

He patted the blanket beside him, and she rose from the log she was sitting on and lay on her side facing him.

“You okay?” he asked, searching her eyes for the truth.

She knew that no matter what she said, he’d know she wasn’t really okay, so she skipped answering and shrugged one shoulder. Despite her proposal worries, she didn’t have to force a smile. The shock of the proposal had eased, and simply being with Jackson and knowing how deeply he cared about her well-being made her sincerely happy.

“Well, I might have just the thing to cheer you up.” He pushed to his feet and disappeared into the tent, leaving Laney to flop onto her back and gaze up at the stars, wondering what in the hell she was going to do.

He came out of the tent with a coy grin that brought her upright again. He had both hands behind his back, and when he crouched beside her and raised his brows, her insides went a little crazy with anticipation. She loved surprises, and Jackson was always full of little unexpected gifts.

“What have you done?” she teased, trying to peek around his shoulders.

He turned to block her view. “Uh-uh. I want to say something first.” His eyes trailed over her face, as if he were trying to read her. Then he drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

“Happy birthday,” he said, and with one hand still behind his back, he set a paper plate on her lap with a giant piece of cake and a plastic fork.

“Jackson!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He used one hand to push her away. “Trying to see what else is back there?”

She laughed, because he was right.

“How did you get this here without me knowing?” She dipped her finger into the thick white frosting and sucked the sweetness off of it, feeling Jackson’s eyes on her the whole time. “Want some?”

“Always.” There was no mistaking the innuendo in his tone.

She swiped her finger over the frosting again and brought it to his lips. “Then you shall have it.”

He sucked her finger into his mouth and swirled his tongue until the frosting was gone and her insides were hot. She scooted in closer and held his face between her hands, staring into his gorgeous eyes. She loved his eyes so much and knew every look by heart, from seductive to contemplative, puzzle solving to sleepy, and she loved every one of them.

“You’re the best friend I could ever have, Jackson, and I love you.”

There was a dreamy intimacy to their kiss that she adored as much as the hungry, lust-filled kisses they’d shared earlier. When their lips parted, his eyes turned serious.

“You’re the best friend I could ever have, too, Laney, and I love you more.”

She smiled as he handed her a wrapped gift. “Jackson…”

“No mushy stuff, just open it.”

She was already tearing through the paper, revealing a leather-bound photo book with a picture of them on the cover. She ran her fingers over the image of him looking away from the camera. In the photo he was wearing a white button-down shirt with the top three buttons open. His eyes were serious, and the scruff on his chiseled jawline gave him the edgy look of a protector. Laney was draped over his shoulder from behind, her forehead leaning on the back of his head, her eyes closed. One arm hung over his chest, her thumb in his shirt. Her other hand was pressed to his right pecs, and his hand covered hers. The strap of her peach dress hung halfway down her arm. Her heart squeezed at the image. They looked like lovers in the intimate pose.

“This is one of my favorite pictures.” She looked up at him, and he was still gazing down at the picture. “Cooper took it the night after your father’s funeral, in your mother’s backyard.”

He cleared his throat, and his answer came out in a scratchy whisper. “Yeah.”

She set the cake aside and held his hand. Her eyes filled with tears as she touched her forehead to his, remembering his father, Bill Wild, and the way he used to call her darlin’ and treat her like a daughter. He’d been a big man with a generous and loving heart, like each of his four sons.

“I miss him.”

Jackson lifted his eyes to hers and nodded. “Me too.”

He flipped open the book, and she knew he didn’t want to relive that time of their lives. He and his brothers had each handled their parents’ attack differently. While Jackson internalized most of his anger, his older brother Logan, who had been out on a mission with the Navy SEALS when his parents were attacked, had gone on his own private mission when the police had stopped searching for their father’s killer and had hunted down the attacker—killing him as he tried to attack another woman. Heath, Jackson’s other older brother, worked through those agonizing weeks talking through his feelings, and Cooper, the youngest, had gone on a full-out rampage. He’d been a fury of rage, angry at everyone and everything, yelling, punching holes in walls, and ornery as hell, and then he seemed to accept their loss and move on just as quickly as he’d fallen apart, albeit a changed man, for sure. Cooper used to be the warm one, easy to get close to, but after his rage, he seemed to have gone numb. But the four brothers had banded together in the aftermath, joining forces in caring for Mary Lou, their mother. They shared in her caretaking, making sure that at least one of them stopped by on a daily basis, ran errands with her, and took her out, to ensure that her life remained full and surrounded by love. Every Sunday all of the boys gathered at her house for dinner, and Laney had joined them on many occasions.

She pushed away the sad memories and turned her attention to the pictures of their past, decoratively displayed by Jackson’s thoughtful and creative eye. She smiled at the images of her as a teenager, laughing with her head tilted back, her eyes closed with the force of her delight, another with her hand on her hip, scowling as Jackson took the picture. And a third, enlarged to take up the entire page, of Laney gazing out his bedroom window with a worried look on her face.

As she flipped through the pages, she found many pictures she didn’t remember him taking—even though it seemed that even as a teen Jackson was always taking pictures of her, or holding the camera at arm’s length to get a shot of both of them with their faces pressed together.

“That’s my favorite,” Jackson said when she turned the page to a picture of Laney lying on her back on the grass at night, moonlight streaming across her mouth and neck, her eyes closed. The edges of the picture were purposely blurred, making her body the full focus.

“Is this…?”

He smiled and nodded. “The first time we ever…”

He held her gaze as memories sailed through her mind with the impact of a gale-force wind. Her body remembered the weight of Jackson perched above her, his strong teenage body lean and tanned, and his eyes—his expressive, loving eyes, even then—gazing down at her protectively. You’re sure, Laney? I don’t want to hurt you. He’d been her first, but she hadn’t been his. He’d never said anything, but he was so confident, so virile and in control, that she knew he had to be far more experienced than she was. He’d wrapped his sinewy arms around her and held her until she’d stopped trembling before they went any further. He’d assured her that they didn’t need to do anything, that he’d always be there for her no matter what, and that she was special, then listed the ways. You’re brilliant and creative. You’re stubborn and sweet and make me crazy. You’re the only person I really truly trust outside of my family.

Laney was lost in the past, and when Jackson touched her cheek, it brought his face back into focus.

“Happy birthday, Laney.”

“You’ve never let me down.” The words came without thought.

He smiled. “Sure I have. Remember how mad you were when I beat up your prom date?” He flipped through the pages and pointed to a picture of Jackson with a bloody lip, his dress shirt torn at the shoulder and a cocky grin on his full lips. “Coop took it, remember? With his phone. That’s why it’s not great quality.”

She clutched the leather book to her chest. “You didn’t let me down, Jackson. He deserved it after the things he said to that poor girl with the ugly dress. It wasn’t her fault her family didn’t have any money.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but you were pissed at me.”

“For a few minutes. I was mortified. I felt bad for the girl and embarrassed that I was with him, and then the fight…You beat the hell out of him, and then you took the girl under your arm and you were her date for the rest of the night. I just wanted to apologize to the girl and have it all go away.” She reached for his hand. “And I was jealous. I wanted to be her.”

“But, Laney, you’ve always been more to me than some random girl could ever be.”

***

FUCK. WHAT AM I doing? I’ve got to stop this sappy shit and get my head on straight. Laney doesn’t need me pounding into her head how much she means to me. She needs me to let her go.

Jackson pushed to his feet and paced, trying to ignore the battle raging within him. “Are you going to eat your cake, or what?” He heard the gruffness in his tone and felt the tightening in his chest, knowing he’d better gain control of his emotions fast or he was going to lose it.

“Why are you so edgy all of a sudden?” She set the book down and rose beside him, then bent at the waist to retrieve the cake, giving him an eyeful of her gorgeous curves. He reached for her hips, wanting to tear off her faded jeans and fuck her right there, bent over in the middle of the woods, so he could work out his frustrations. She liked it when he was aggressive, and his emotions were all over the map this weekend. He couldn’t get Bryce out of his mind, and every time he looked at her, it drove the guy’s proposal into his heart like a stake.

She rose as he gripped her hips—tight—and pulled her body flush against his. He was rock hard again, and when she rubbed her ass against his cock, he tightened his grip even more.

“We can’t. I’m too out of control,” he growled.

She rested her head back against his chest with a sigh, reached one hand up and guided his mouth to her neck, then reached between them and stroked his cock through his jeans.

“Laney, I’m not in a good place.”

“Seems like you’re in a very good place,” she countered, pressing into him again.

“No, I’m not.” He pushed back, and she tightened her hold on his cock, keeping him close. “Laney,” he warned.

She turned in his arms and worked the button of his jeans free. “I’m as fucked up as you are over this.” Her eyes were liquid fire. “Bryce sent my world spinning.” She unzipped his jeans, shoved her hand in his briefs, and cupped his balls. “You and I both know there’s only one way we can work through this shit without losing our minds.”

He looked away. “It’s not the answer.” His chest was so tight, his cock rigid as steel and throbbing with need, but it still wasn’t the answer. “I’ll hurt you. I’m too fucking messed up.”

She gripped his jeans at the hips and tugged them down. He hissed out a breath at the freeing of his erection. 

She held her palm out in front of his mouth. “Lick,” she commanded with narrow eyes and a firm tone.

“Laney.” If his tongue touched her, he was going to take all of her.

She gripped his jaw hard and then sealed her lips over his, thrusting her tongue in angry strokes. When she pulled back, her eyes were sad and angry at once, and his resolve melted. He clutched her wrist and held it tight, then dragged his wet tongue up the length of it and sucked her fingers into his mouth. Without a word, she brought her mouth to his, licking around her fingers, kissing as he sucked and swirled his tongue over her. Everything she did was goddamn sexy. She pulled back abruptly, then crouched in front of him and took his aching cock in her mouth.

“Holy fuck, Laney.” His chin fell to his chest and his hands fisted in her hair as he watched his hard length move in and out of her mouth.

Her tongue swirled over the swollen head, sending shocks of lust racing up his chest. She cupped his balls in one hand, squeezing with just enough pressure to send his hips forward as his hands tugged her mouth deeper over him until his cock hit the back of her throat. She moaned, and it vibrated right through him.

He guided her efforts, fast and angry, pouring all his emotions into this one act. It was too much, seeing her willingly let him fuck her mouth and knowing she was just as confused as he was. He yanked her hair back, sending his erection smacking against his stomach. He needed so much more of her. Wanted so much more.

“Laney,” he pleaded, but he didn’t know for what.

She looked up at him as she brought her mouth to his balls. Her tongue moved in slow, torturous strokes over his sac, her eyes trained on him, still heated with conflicting emotions. She tugged his jeans to his ankles.

“Off,” she demanded. “Now.”

He kicked off his boots and stripped, willing to give her anything and everything he had.

She spread his legs, lifted his sac, and licked the sensitive skin beneath. He closed his eyes against the surge of desire rushing down his spine. Laney took what she wanted, dragging her tongue over him until his sac tightened and he groaned aloud. Then she stripped from her clothes, crushed her bare breasts to his chest, and thrust his hand between her legs.

“See what you do to me?” Her eyes glared into his. “Bryce doesn’t make me this wet. No man makes me this wet.” She sank onto his fingers and moaned as she took his other hand and licked his palm, leaving a dollop of wetness in the center, then wrapped it around his cock. “Fuck me while you get yourself off.”

He clenched his jaw. She loved to watch him jerk off as much as he loved to watch her, but right then he wanted to do so many dirty things to her that jerking off wasn’t part of the plan. He stroked his rigid length as his fingers fucked her, furtively seeking her pleasure point. She went up on her toes, guiding him as she gripped his wrist, breathing hard, holding his hand in place.

“There. Oh God, Jackson. Right there.”

He stroked her as she watched him touching both of them, and—fuck—it turned him on so much his thighs were shaking. Her legs went stiff as she tightened around his fingers.

“I’m gonna…Jackson. I want to see you come, too.” She cradled his balls as he stroked his cock, still working his magic inside her tight pussy. She was panting, a sheen of sweat formed on her upper lip. Her hands moved to his biceps, fingernails digging into his skin, as she rode his hand faster, then shattered—hips bucking, inner muscles pulsating.

“I want to fuck you, Laney,” he said between gritted teeth.

“Yes, God, yes, Jackson.”

“Hard and rough, Laney. I want to drive into your ass and finger-fuck you until you explode, and then I want to pound into your pussy and make you come again all over me.” He pulled her face to his and captured her moans in his mouth as she rode out another climax. Then he turned her around, holding her hips, and guided her a few feet forward to a tree.

She gripped the trunk with both hands and bent at the waist as he kicked her legs wide. She was too fucking sexy for words, and she was the only woman he could ever be completely himself with—holding nothing back. Allowing his emotions to drive their ride, rough or tender, whatever he needed. Hell, he was the same way with her. He took whatever she needed or wanted to give. They were always perfectly matched.

“Fuck. I need lube and a condom, because I want to fuck that wet pussy of yours afterward.” He disappeared into the tent and came back sheathed, lubed, and ready.

“Hurry,” she pleaded into the night. “God…hurry.”

He clutched her hips and pressed the head of his cock to her tightest hole.

“You’re sure?”

“Jackson!” She glared at him over her shoulder. “Stop being careful with me and fuck me already.”

He thrust past the tight ring of muscles and felt her entire body stiffen. Her head fell between her shoulders with a long exhalation as she pressed her hips back, taking all of him in. He slid a hand around her hip and teased her wet folds, expertly finding her swollen clit with his thumb, stroking, taunting as he began to move in her ass.

“Oh, fuuuuuck.” Her voice was shaky.

“Am I hurting you?”

“God…Oh God. Only in the best kind of way.”

With one hand on her hip, he leaned over her and brought his teeth to the back of her neck as his hips met her ass, time and time again. His fingers sank into her, matching the rhythm of his cock as he fucked her hard.

“I’m not gonna last,” he said against her ear. “Use your hand. Squeeze your nipple.”

She did, and her sweet, sexy moan vibrated through her as another climax clutched her, sending her upright, her back flush against his chest. Her body pulsed and thrust, and he slammed his eyes shut against the urge to come.

“I love fucking you,” he ground out. And when he couldn’t take it anymore, he withdrew from her ass and turned her in his arms. “You’re a fucking goddess. You know that, right, Laney? Tell me you know I’d never do this with anyone else.”

“I know.” Her voice trembled. “Hold me, Jackson. Hold me.”

He wrapped one strong arm around her and crushed his mouth to hers, then scooped her into his arms and carried her into the tent, where he lay her down on the blankets and stripped off the condom, tossing it outside the tent. Her legs were shaking as he spread them wide and lowered his mouth between her legs.

“Too sensitive,” she said.

But he knew that only meant she’d come even harder. He pressed her thighs to the blanket and loved her with his mouth, sliding his tongue up and over her sensitive flesh as she writhed beneath him. Her head shifted from side to side, hands fisting in the blanket. He sucked her clit into his mouth, earning himself another sexy moan, then pushed his tongue into her wet center as she came on his tongue.

He moved swiftly up her body and took her in another demanding, possessive kiss, because right that second, she was his. Only his. He sank his cock into her and gathered her against him, holding her tight, wanting to brand her as his own. He opened his palm and stared at the tattoo of the key, but it was too much. He had to close his eyes against it. He didn’t want to lose her to some other man. He thrust in at a frantic, greedy pace as she clawed for purchase, her nails dragging across his shoulders and back—branding him with her marks.

“I’m gonna—” Her eyes slammed shut. “Oh God, Jackson.”

She locked her ankles around his waist, and the next hard thrust sent them both over the edge. Heat seared down his spine with each ejaculation. He captured her mouth with his, swallowing her gasps for breath with every buck of her hips. Aftershocks rattled through them, until they finally—blissfully—collapsed to the blankets, utterly sated and spent, tangled in each other’s arms.