He was favoring the right side again, wasn’t he?” Ben asked as he handed over the mashed potatoes the following evening. They had all taken their usual places around the dining room table for what was a true rare occurrence—a family meal together before Asher flew back to New Jersey with his team.
“You know I don’t play favorites,” Jackson said, dishing a large scoop onto his plate before handing it to Becky at the end of the table.
“He was though, right?” His older brother insisted as Asher joined them at the table, carrying the roast for their mother.
She followed him with the gravy boat.
Ben eyed Asher as he sat. “You injured little brother?”
“Wouldn’t you love to know?” Asher reached for a roll, tearing it apart before taking his seat across from them.
“Hat off at the table,” their mother, Beverly, said. “And enough hockey talk. Let’s eat.”
The boys knew better than to go against their mother, and by the end of dinner, the conversation had turned to his business. “So, have you sold the house over on Oak Avenue yet?” Ben asked, pushing his licked-clean plate away.
“No. I decided to rent it out for a while.”
“I thought you were planning to move into that one yourself,” his mother said, looking at him in surprise. “It’s such a beautiful place and right on the lake. It would be perfect for you.”
Only Becky knew that Abigail and Dani were living in the house, and he’d been hoping to keep it that way for a while. “I don’t know yet,” he said with a shrug, sending a silencing look at Becky the blabbermouth.
“He can’t move in there. Dani and Ms. Jansen are living there now,” Taylor spoke up.
Oh, right, the shorter blabbermouth.
Becky grinned and shrugged as if to say, There’re no secrets around kids, as she stood and started collecting the plates. “Taylor, help me clear the table for dessert,” she said. “Before your uncle murders you,” she whispered to the little girl sitting next to him as she passed.
Taylor stood to help.
“Abigail Jansen?” his mother asked.
“That’s right, I heard Abby was back home.” Ben studied him.
Don’t give anything away, or they will pounce like vultures on prey, he thought, avoiding his brother’s gaze as he handed his empty plate to Becky. “Yes, she is back, and yes, I’m renting her the house. She was looking for a place for her and Dani…” He shrugged. “Besides, don’t all of you look at me like you know something you don’t. This was Becky’s fault. She and Abby are best friends these days.” An image of her fingers entwined with his at the hockey game the night before, and the way she’d looked at him before climbing out of the truck, told him maybe they were friends now, too…more than friends?
Damn if he could figure it out.
“My fault?” his sister asked, looking innocent as she passed dessert forks around the table.
“Yes, your fault. You were the one who suggested she move in, remember?”
“Hey! I’m not the one who asked her to the hockey game last night.”
All heads swung in his direction. Hyenas, a pack of them, ready to attack.
His mother looked ready to start planning a wedding, and even Ash, the quieter, less overbearing brother, was looking at him with a smirk.
Quick—divert attention. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one going into business with her,” he said, shooting a pointed look at Becky.
His sister’s eyes narrowed into thin slits, and luckily there was a table between them. The knife she held to cut the ice cream cake looked really sharp.
The heads swung toward her.
“What business?” his mother asked.
“I think I hear the football game. Boys, shall we leave the ladies to talk?” Jackson said, standing quickly and grabbing his plate of dessert.
His brothers were quick to do the same.
“Jerks!” Becky called as they left her with their mom, who no doubt would have a million and three questions for her about her new venture with Abby.
Better her than him in the hot seat, he mused. Though he knew he’d get an earful from her later.
Sitting on the sofa, sandwiched between his two brothers, Jackson turned the volume up on the game.
Ben turned it back down. “Don’t think you’re off the hook that easy.”
“What?” he asked, a mouth full of cold ice cream giving him a brain freeze.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Abby Jansen divorcing your best friend?” Ben said.
“Not that he doesn’t deserve it,” Asher said, his attention glued to the television, but obviously listening. “I saw him at a club after we played in L.A. last year, some redhead clinging to him like he was a life preserver.”
Yeah, Jackson had to admit maybe Team Dean wasn’t the right team to have always supported in the past. Though he wondered how much of his new feelings toward his best friend were a result of attempting to reduce some of his own guilt for the ever-growing attraction he felt for Abby. “She was looking for a place and I wasn’t ready to move yet, so it worked out. Besides, as you said, Dean’s my friend. I thought it was the right thing to do for his family.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m glad you didn’t move in there yet. There might be an opportunity for you to check out,” Ben said, glancing at his cell as it chimed with a message.
“No.”
“No? Just like that? Not even going to hear me out?” he asked, reading the text on his screen next to a picture of some hot brunette.
While Ben was busy replying, Jackson turned to Asher. “Do you know what this is about?”
His brother nodded, checking hockey stats on his own phone. “The Eagles, they’re looking for three new flex players for when the boys get called up.”
His old team. Jackson turned to Ben. “Like I said, no.” He’d tried that path to an NHL career before without success. He was older now and in less than ideal shape. He couldn’t compete with the young nineteen-year-olds anymore. His brother should understand that. At thirty-one, Ben had five or six good years left before he’d be forced out by the younger, faster, better players. He’d be retired by forty.
“Try out. What’s the harm in that? If you don’t make it, I won’t bug you about it anymore.” His phone chimed again. This time it was a picture of a blonde next to the message.
He shook his head. “Forget it.”
“You know you still want to play, man,” Ben said, typing furiously, as another text came in.
Did he? There was no denying the twist in his gut when he watched his brothers play or the feeling of remorse he felt whenever he watched replays of his own time on the ice, but did he truly still have the burning desire to play?
Luckily Ben’s cell rang, saving him from having to answer. His brother grinned. “I have to answer this.” He turned the phone toward him and an image of a cute redhead flashed on the screen.
A brunette, a blonde, and now a redhead—his brother always covered the bases. He shook his head. “How many of these women do you have on the go, man?”
“Enough to stay busy, but not too many to keep them all straight,” he said with a wink, answering the call. “Hey, baby. I was just thinking about you…”
Jackson shook his head as he turned up the volume on the football game. Ben’s playboy lifestyle was going to come back to bite him in the ass someday. It just hadn’t happened yet.
* * *
Abigail’s arms ached as she moved the last box of her items into the middle of the living room and surveyed the mess of stuff she’d just unpacked. The unexpected outing last week had put her behind schedule getting things organized, and she was determined to get everything done that evening. She hated clutter and living out of boxes.
Why had she packed so much from the house in L.A.? Looking at the stacks of old books, CDs and DVDs yet to organize, she wished she’d had a backyard bonfire with all of it instead. She yawned.
Where on earth did she begin?
A glass of wine sounded like as good a place as any.
After pouring a glass of pinot grigio, she picked up the divorce papers she’d received from Olivia Davis that afternoon and carried them into the living room. She sat on the floor near the fireplace and read the documents.
She was a free woman again. Dean had finally conceded to the settlement her lawyer had been fighting for and she had full custody of Dani. She should be celebrating. But with Dani spending the night at Taylor’s, the extent of her celebration was a bottle of wine and unpacking. The symbolism wasn’t lost on her. In her hand, she held the end of her past and all around her was her new future waiting to start.
“Knock knock…”
Jackson’s voice in the hallway made her jump. What was he doing there? She quickly stashed the divorce papers under the couch and stood, knocking over the wine glass. Luckily the cheap plastic goblet was empty, and she bent to right it as Jackson entered the living room.
“Hi…Hey…” She stammered, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t seen him in a few days, though it would be a lie to say he hadn’t crossed her mind—too often for comfort, in fact.
And now he was standing in her living room—his living room, technically—looking amazing in a pair of jeans that hugged his thighs, a tear in the right knee, and a black collared shirt, opened at the neck beneath a black leather jacket. His hair was gelled in a purposeful mess, and the five o’clock shadow along his jawline—as always—tempted her touch.
What the hell was it about that stubble?
Shoving her hands even deeper into her pockets, she commanded her body to stay firmly where she was.
“I came to drop off the new lock and set of keys to the shed in the backyard. Sorry, it took longer than I’d planned…” He looked around the cluttered space. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to have so much stuff.”
She shrugged. “I’m hoping to be unpacked and organized by Christmas.” She forced a laugh.
He studied her for a moment, then shook his head as though shaking a thought away. “Anyway, here are the keys.” He started toward her with his hand extended, and she was nodding, though not really hearing his words.
Her mind had taken an unwanted detour to the look in his eyes when she’d touched his hand at the hockey game. Such a simple gesture…a stupid simple gesture that had served to complicate things between them, blur some imaginary line. She took the keys and played with the key ring, trying to summon the courage to say something about the other night. To explain that whatever that was wasn’t something that could turn into something more.
He cleared his throat and spoke before she could. “The other night at the game…”
Her head whipped up. “Yeah?”
“That was…”
“Nothing?” she said weakly, hoping to fill in the blank correctly. Or partly hoping at least.
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” he said. “I mean, there’s something happening…” He coughed. “Between us.”
She was shaking her head furiously, but an argument refused to verbalize.
No doubt because it would be bullshit.
Jackson took a step closer. “So you’re saying you didn’t feel a connection?”
“I didn’t feel any connection,” she said quickly, backing up slightly. The heat from the fireplace now toasting the back of her legs. “That would be crazy…weird, right?”
Another step closer. “Crazy weird because?”
“Because of Dean,” she said emphatically.
“Right. Dean,” he said as his gaze fell to the floor and landed on the divorce papers under the couch. “But it looks like there is no Dean anymore…at least not for you.” He moved even closer and now was just inches away.
Oh God, it was hot in here, and it wasn’t just the fireplace. She swallowed hard, the urge to close the gap between them overwhelming. But…“There’s still a Dean for you though, right?” Damn. She had no idea which answer she wanted from him. Her mind was hoping his friendship with her ex-husband would be enough to make him retreat. But her body was screaming Dean who?!
His gaze locked on hers, and he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears, cupping her face with his hands. “What if it doesn’t matter anymore? What if all that matters is what I want?”
“What do you…”
Her words were silenced by his mouth crushing hers a second later. Her arms fell limp to her sides and she blinked several times, not moving, not breathing…too in shock to kiss him back. She just stood there motionless as his lips finally realized they weren’t getting any response from hers.
He backed away a fraction of an inch, still touching her face. “I have no idea where that came from,” he said.
“No shit,” she whispered, still in shock.
He released her and took a big step back. “I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to go.” He started to walk toward the door, then stopped and turned. “No, you know what? I’m not going to go.”
“You’re not?” She’d somehow found her voice again.
“No.” He paced the living room between the stacks of boxes, head down, muttering to himself as though trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Had he forgotten she was standing there? “Jackson, do you want to let me in on what’s happening right now?”
He glanced up at her and stopped pacing. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice as he seemed to weigh his words. “Abby, the thing is…” He stopped.
“The thing is…” she coaxed.
“Remember second grade?”
Her eyes widened. The thing started that far back? Wow, this was obviously not a short story. “No.”
He sighed. “Of course not. The truth is…” He stopped again.
Oh for the love of God! “Jackson, why did you kiss me?” Should be an easy enough question, but he looked confused, pained…tortured.
He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like forever, before lowering his gaze to hers. “Because I have feelings for you.”
Feelings? “Like good feelings?” she asked, lowering herself back down to sit on one of the unopened boxes. She couldn’t trust her legs for this conversation.
“No, terrible, unwanted, unreciprocated, completely wrong feelings…but they’ve always been there, and now it seems they have a mind of their own,” he said, his shoulders slumping as though a weight had lifted from them.
Only to be placed on hers. What the hell did she do with that information? “But you…”
“I know.”
“I mean you treated me…”
“I know.” He sighed, sitting on a different box in front of her. The cardboard gave way and he ended up half stuck between the folds. “I know this is terrible timing.” He looked frustrated as he tried to reposition himself in the box.
At any other moment, the sight might be hilarious.
“And it’s been killing me trying to decide if I should tell you any of this. I’ve held it in so long, I thought I could continue to keep it hidden, but the truth is, since you’ve been back, it’s been harder and harder to keep this to myself. Being around you and not touching you, not kissing you, not holding you is torture, and I think you’ve felt it, too.” He paused.
His words were an arrow straight to her heart, but she had no idea what to do with them. Her own feelings for him had come on so sudden, yet so strong, and now he was telling her that he’d always felt something for her? She bit her lip as she nodded. “Things have definitely felt…different lately.”
“Different.” He looked disappointed as he nodded. “Okay.”
A long silence fell between them.
“So, that’s why you always…”
“Yes.”
“And you never…”
“Yes.”
Realization was a long time coming, but now the effect of it hit her like a freight train. Becky had been right. Abigail’s ex-husband’s best friend had always been in love with her. Was still in love with her.
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. She stood and now it was her turn to pace. “But…Oh, but…”
He struggled to crawl out of the nearly flattened box. “Abby, don’t freak out.”
Too late.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t expect you to ever feel the same way, and that one-sided kiss just now pretty much confirmed it,” he said.
She stopped and stared at him. “It did?”
“Yeah. I mean I’ve always known you’d never…”
“I’d never what?”
“Go for someone like me. Go for…me.”
And why the hell not? “How do you know that?”
“Because you dated guys that were…not me,” he said, placing his hands on his hips, a look of frustration etched on his handsome face.
“You never showed the least bit of interest. How could I possibly have known how you felt?”
“You’re right. And now it’s too late.”
Too late. She nodded slowly, wondering why that idea made her stomach turn. She didn’t return his feelings…did she? She had some feelings—definitely attraction—but real, sincere feelings?
Her mouth went dry.
Oh God. One thing was certain, she didn’t not share his feelings.
“Now that I’ve made things even more awkward between us than they’ve ever been, I think I’ll go.” He headed toward the door. “Let’s try to forget about all of this, okay?” he asked, his expression desperate as he lingered, a hand on the door.
Forget about it. Yes. Definitely the best thing to do. The only thing to do.
Then why was she walking straight toward him, her eyes locked on his? Stop, Abigail. Do not do something you’ll regret.
Too late. Her arms reached up around his neck as she stood on tiptoes to place her lips gently against his. Not the desperate, longing, full crushing attack he’d placed on hers, but a soft, inviting gesture she had no right to offer.
“Abby,” he moaned against her mouth placing his hands on her hips. “This is not forgetting about it.”
“I know, but the way I see it, if we’re going to forget about it, why not add more things to the list?” she whispered, licking her bottom lip.
* * *
Impossible. The only word to describe this moment right now. This sight before him of Abby Jansen’s beautiful face just inches from his. The feel of her body so close, pressed against his, would be impossible to forget. And impossible to recover from. Their lips had touched twice, and already the dull aching in his heart had magnified. His untimely kiss, then hers, sent his common sense packing. He’d fantasized about this moment so often, he wasn’t sure the reality of it would ever compare.
Not that he could find out.
He shook his head, desperate to free himself from the fog clouding his judgment as he broke away from her kiss. “Abby, you know this is not a good idea,” he said, not knowing where he found the strength to remove her arms from around his neck and hold her away. His seventeen-year-old self would be kicking his ass right now.
Her lips formed a pout that would buckle the strongest of resolves. “Well, it certainly can’t be any worse than any of my previous decisions,” she countered.
He wasn’t so sure about that. “Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to take advantage of your bad judgment right now, but wherever this is coming from is not from a clear head, and I don’t want to hurt you.” He also didn’t want to hurt himself by giving her any more control over his heart than she already had and had always held.
She frowned as she folded her arms across her chest. “So, you didn’t mean any of what you said—you don’t have feelings for me?”
“Don’t do that, Abby. If I didn’t, I’d pick you up right now, carry you into that bedroom I’d hoped would be mine, and make love to you until I was the only man you could remember.”
She let her arms fall, allowing her sweater to fall open and reveal the tight lace of her tank top across her breasts, as she stepped toward him. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need.”
Maybe tonight. But then what?
She reached up with both hands and cupped his face, her eyes locked with his. “Make me forget, Jackson. Forget everyone else but you.”
* * *
When his lips met hers, there was still a brief hesitation in his eyes, but as her fingers crept up the back of his neck and tangled in his hair, she felt all resistance melt from his body. His grip tightened on her waist as his mouth crushed hers. She felt his tongue along her bottom lip and a soft moan escaped her as her lips parted. His fingers dug into her flesh as he held her in place.
He didn’t need to. She wasn’t going anywhere. Jackson’s kiss was leaving her breathless, full of desire, and with an aching need she hadn’t known existed. And damn, what a kiss. She pressed her body even closer, desperate to feel every inch of him against every inch of her as she deepened the connection even further.
A second later, they were both gasping for air when he reluctantly broke away.
“Better than that first one?” she whispered against his lips.
“Much.” The sweeping motion was so quick, she barely saw him move, but a second later, she was in Jackson’s arms and he was headed down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
Her arm gripped him tightly around the neck, and she snuggled closer. He was the first man in a long time to make her feel anything. The fact he was making her feel so much was the terrifying part. Her body ached to feel his hands on her. Her lips were dying to get another taste of his. And her heart pounded with excitement as he reached the bedroom door.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, the sound coming from deep in his chest.
She nodded. “No.”
He gave a small, frustrated laugh. “Which one do I listen to—your words or your body?”
Oh shit, she didn’t know. “I’m sure,” she said, sounding anything but.
“Abby…”
She reached for the knob on the door and pushed it open. “I’m sure,” she said, hoping this time she sounded at least less unsure.
It must have sounded good enough because Jackson carried her inside and laid her gently on the queen-size, four-poster bed. He hesitated, staring down at her. “You’re sure?”
“Stop asking me that,” she said, reaching out for him.
“Okay, but for the record, this is not a good idea.”
“Shut up and kiss me again.”
He didn’t hesitate, lowering himself down on top of her, supporting himself on his right elbow as he touched her face, brushing her hair away. “You are so beautiful. Even more so than I remembered…”
She swallowed hard. There would be no mistaking this for an impulsive, lust-filled bad decision. At least not from his side of the bed, and suddenly it seemed as though she were making a much bigger decision than just offering her body to him.
His smile was soft as he brought his lips to hers once more.
They were both all in, mouths hungrily searching for a stronger connection.
Her hands slid down his back and slipped beneath his shirt, her nails dragging softly upward over the muscles as she eased it off.
God, he felt good…Too good. It had been so long since she’d wanted someone—needed someone—as badly as she did him in that moment. His body felt incredible, and she couldn’t wait to get the rest of his clothes off of him. The realization that in moments, Jackson Westmore would be completely naked in front of her made her pulse go wild.
His hand trailed down her cheek, across her chest, and down the front of her body, tickling her even through the fabric of the tank top. God, his touch was even better than his kiss. Gentle, yet full of desire. She could barely breathe for anticipation. He reached for the edge of her top, then stopped, breaking away slightly.
No! Don’t stop! “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Just having a hard time turning my brain off, that’s all,” he said, his breath labored, his expression full of pure wanting.
Slowly, she reached for the edge of her shirt and, moving even slower, peeled it off over her head, shaking her hair free of the fabric as she tossed it aside. “Does this help?” she asked, saying a silent thank-you to her diligent workout routine with her former trainer.
His gaze left hers to scan her body—her breasts, her stomach, then back again. “A little bit, yeah,” he said moving closer and lowering his mouth to her neck. Leaving a soft trail of hungry kisses along her collarbone and downward over the swell of her breasts exposed at the top of the plain white satin bra, Jackson reached behind her to the clasp.
“This needs to come off. Now.”
* * *
A second later, his breath caught at the sight of her exposed chest and stomach, the perfectly shaped, full breasts better than he could have imagined. He buried his face between them, his hands cupping and massaging until she moaned in delight. The mere sound of her enjoying his touch almost finished him off. God, he didn’t stand a chance at lasting long. Not when he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, fantasizing about this moment since he was fifteen.
“Oh my God, Jackson, don’t stop…” she whispered, tossing her head back and taking quick shallow breaths.
Based on the sounds she was making, he felt safe in his prediction that neither would she. Which was good, because he’d hate to disappoint her. Taking her fast, rough, and hard was so tempting, but he forced air into his lungs and made himself slow down. Years of pent-up sexual attraction for this woman was driving him crazy, but now that she was lying here almost naked in front of him, he longed to make it last.
He kissed her flesh along her cleavage, leaving a trail all the way to her nipple, which he licked softly at first, then roughly sucked and flicked his tongue across it. She tasted so good. Like honey—smooth and sweet—and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of her. His body ached and he longed to savor every inch of her. Take all night to explore each part of her.
Sliding his tongue along her skin, he moved to her other nipple, and now she was almost whimpering below him. “I knew these breasts would knock me on my ass, but damn it, Abigail, I had no idea,” he murmured against her skin.
“You like them?” she asked, her voice pure seduction, running her hands through his hair, pressing his lips against her.
His cock spasmed as a rush of blood left every other extremity weak with desire. “They’re perfection.”
She pushed his head away, and for a second he thought she might ask him to stop, but instead she reached for the button on her jeans and then quickly tugged them off of her hips, exposing just a thin silk thong underneath.
“Fuck me,” he growled under his breath. He should have been prepared for the sight of her but sweet Jesus, her body, completely exposed except for the tiny strip of silk, took away his ability to think clearly. Every reason why this was not a good idea left him as he watched the slow movement of her long legs as she moved back farther onto the bed.
“Come here,” she whispered, reaching for him.
He moved toward her, sliding his fingers into the waistband of her thong and slowly, as she lifted her hips, removing them and tossing it aside.
His mouth went dry as he stared at her naked body in front of him. Fuck. He was screwed. Any hope of stopping what was happening right now had disappeared the moment he flung the panties across the room.
He pressed his lips to her stomach, kissing a circle around her belly button, as his hands slid up the length of her long legs. Putting a hand on the inside of her muscular thighs, he pushed them open to slide a hand on her soft mound between her legs as his mouth continued to move south on her body. “You’re so wet,” he whispered against her skin as he slid a finger inside her.
“I’m almost coming already,” she said, as his tongue flicked her clit, before it slid the length of her swollen, wet folds.
“No way, not so fast.” He slowed the pace slightly. He’d been ready to explode the moment her soft hands had stroked his back, but knowing they were both so close to the edge, he was desperate to make this much anticipated, fantasized about moment last as long as he possibly could.
Which would never be long enough.
Removing his jeans and tight boxer briefs, he stroked the length of his erect cock, his palm skimming over the straining and throbbing flesh. It took every ounce of strength to hold back his orgasm and he wanted to come inside her body, not at her feet like an overeager teenage boy.
Her eyes fell to his crotch, and the wide-eyed appreciation he saw in them made him even harder. He knew he was up to the challenge of meeting her every desire, to cherishing her body the way she deserved and making her forget the pain and disappointment of her past, even if only for that night.
He lay back down between her legs, and lifted them, wrapping them around his body. Her wetness met the tip of his cock and he almost exploded. And when her soft hands wrapped around him and started stroking, it took his breath away.
“You have to stop that or it’s game over,” he said, reaching for her hands, and holding them away from his body. He stared down at her, her expression pure desire, but the brief look of hesitation in her eyes made him pause. “We don’t have to do this,” he whispered hoarsely, though it would take every ounce of his strength to stop.
She swallowed hard. “I want you, Jackson.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her gently. “A condom?” he whispered against her lips.
Her eyes flew open and she frowned. “You don’t have one?”
His mind did a quick inventory of his wallet. When was the last time he’d needed a condom? Leaving her, he picked up his discarded jeans and retrieved his wallet from the back pocket. Opening it quickly, he was relieved to find one. He stopped and scanned the package for the expiration date.
Abigail propped herself up on her elbows and raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious right now?”
“What? It’s been a while.”
She smiled and the look of desire in her eyes only deepened.
Good to know his recent lack of action was working to his benefit. Ripping the package open, he handed it to her and she slid it over him. Slowly, painfully awakening every inch of him as her hands closed over him once more. He was far from inexperienced, but he felt like his eager seventeen-year-old self being touched for the first time as he waited for the protection to be firmly in place before picking her up, raising her body, and sliding her down over him.
A shocked little cry escaped her lips and she clutched his thighs, her nails biting into his flesh. For a second, he paused, thinking he might have hurt her, but when she closed her eyes and moaned, he plunged even deeper. “Oh my God, Jackson.”
Hearing his name on her lips as their bodies rocked together in perfect rhythm was absolute torture as he tried to hold off as long as possible. He’d loved this woman for so long, and now here she was in his arms. “Abigail,” he groaned as her hips moved up and down in a slow rhythm, teasing, killing him. Her hands in his hair, she kissed his neck and bit his earlobe, her mouth causing an intense mix of pleasure and pain he wanted to last forever.
Gripping her ass, he slid in and out of her body as she panted and moaned.
Frantically she clutched at him. “I’m going to come…I’m going to come…fuck me, Jackson…”
He thrust deeper one last time and she cried out, falling into him, her body shaking slightly.
“Jackson,” she whispered.
Years of longing, wanting, and waiting took over. He exploded within her and a loud groan escaped him as his head collapsed against her chest and he held her tight.
When he lifted his head to look at her, he held his breath, expecting to see remorse or guilt in her eyes now that the heat of the moment had left them both spent. But all he saw there was an unexpected flicker of emotion that made his heart beat even faster.
He rolled them over and lay behind her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her into him. He buried his face into her hair and kissed the side of her neck. She didn’t say a word, just gripped his hand and pulled it closer to her chest as she snuggled into him.
He lay awake for a long time, waiting for the guilt he knew he should be feeling, but it didn’t come. Maybe it was because for the first time in his life he was holding what he’d always wanted, or maybe it was because for the first time, at least for that moment, she wanted to be there, too.