More, more, more.
“Let’s go inside,” he whispers against my lips, just before he resumes kissing me. This goes on for minutes. Hours. I don’t know. I’ve lost all track of time thanks to Jackson. “Show me your bed.”
It’s the way he says show me your bed that brings me back to reality. I press a hand to his chest, pushing a little. He breaks the kiss, lifting his head so our gazes meet, our heavy breaths mingling.
“I don’t know,” I tell him.
He frowns, lowering his brows. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“What’s going to happen if I ‘show you my bed’?”
“I’m going to make you feel good,” he says, his voice full of promise as he leans in to kiss me again, but I keep my arm extended so he can’t.
I know he can deliver on that promise. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to go there yet. I talked a good game just now, but I know myself. I feel too much.
For him.
“And after that?” I’m shaking. I don’t know why. Nerves maybe? I’m definitely not cold. I feel like I’m burning up.
“I don’t know. Does there have to be an after that? Can’t we just let it play out?” he asks, sounding pained.
“With me and you? Yes, there has to be an after that. Letting it play out might end up a total disaster.” I nod, proud of myself that I said it.
He needs to know he can’t just fuck me and forget me. Not that I think he would, but knowing Jackson, if we did actually have sex? Afterward, he’d avoid me.
For months, even years, if things got awkward.
Knowing us, they’d get mega awkward.
He leans his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. “You think too much.”
“It’s my best and worst trait.” I touch his face. His achingly beautiful face. I run my fingers along his jaw, committing to memory the agony in his gaze as I touch him.
He’s affected by me. He can say and do whatever he wants, but he cares.
He just doesn’t know what to do with those feelings yet.
And that’s the only reason I’m letting things go this far between us in the first place. Deep down, I know Jackson has feelings for me. He’s just afraid. Of me. Of us.
Of everything.
“Are you going to let me come inside?” he asks.
“I shouldn’t,” I tell him truthfully.
“Come on, El. Let me.” He grips my hips again, his touch and tone persuasive. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”
See how he knows we’re going to do something that I might want to stop? Besides, it’s Jackson.
I won’t want him to stop. I didn’t want him to stop just now. I had to get my feelings out first. But did he actually hear me? I don’t know.
“Okay,” I whisper like an idiot.
He lifts his head from mine, his smile triumphant while carefully setting me on my feet. We don’t say a word as I finish unlocking the door and slowly open it, letting him in first. It’s dark inside, not even a lamp left on, which is fine. I have my flashlight on my phone and I can make my way around the place without running into furniture.
I’m still not that familiar with my new home, but I’m getting there.
It’s a four bedroom, and I have three other roommates. All girls I don’t know, but so far, we get along okay. I’m not necessarily close to any of them yet, and the arrangement we have is nice, since we don’t share a bedroom, so at least we each have some privacy.
Tonight, in this very moment, I’m very, very glad Jackson and I will have privacy. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be happening.
I shut and lock the door before I lead him to my bedroom upstairs. The townhouse is tri-level, with two bedrooms on the top floor, the common living space on the second, and two other bedrooms on the bottom. Jackson follows me up the stairs closely, nearly bumping into me, and I wonder if he’s just eager, or only trying to remind me that he’s there. Maybe a combo of both?
Or maybe I’m just overthinking things as usual.
Cracking open my door, I’m about to quietly sneak inside, but Jackson pushes at the door instead, making us both barrel in. He shuts the door for me and turns the lock, an ominous sound in the otherwise quiet room.
I swallow hard when he hits the light switch and the overhead light comes on. The hungry expression on his face as he studies me, and I feel decidedly lacking.
“Uh, I need to change first.” I glance down at my dirty clothes.
“You won’t need to change,” he says with a wicked smile.
“Can I at least shower?”
“Did you dip yourself into a vat of barbecue sauce?” he asks. “Or maybe ranch? Spill a gallon of beer on your shirt?
“What?” I frown. “No. Well, maybe a half gallon of beer.”
He laughs, and it is the best sound. “Then you don’t need to take a shower.”
“I might smell,” I tell him as he makes his way toward me.
“I’m willing to take my chances.”
“You should turn off the light.”
His gaze darkens. “I want to see everything.”
Oh. Shit.
I mean, I want to see everything too. It’s Jackson, after all. But I’m nervous. Self-conscious.
“Please?” I whisper.
He stops in front of me, huffs out a breath and goes back to the door, where the light switch is. He hits it again, shutting the lights off before he walks past me and turns on the lamp that sits on my bedside table.
“Compromise?” he asks, lifting his brows.
I give a jerky nod, fighting the nerves that suddenly swarm me.
After I drop my keys and my phone on the bedside table, he wraps me up in his arms and just holds me for a moment. The two of us standing beside the bed, not saying anything. I cling to him because I can, absorbing his heat and his scent and his strength. Everything about him, I want.
I’m nervous though. So nervous. And worried. Having him in my bedroom is sending a message. Things are going to another level between us, and I hope I don’t regret it.
God, I’m so scared I’ll regret it.
His lips touch my forehead. My temple. He’s breathing me in; I can hear him inhale. I tighten my arms around him, taking advantage of this position, enjoying the sensation of his strong arms wrapped around me. I could stand like this for hours and not complain.
He reaches for me, his fingers coming under my chin, exerting gentle pressure. I lift my head up to find he’s already watching me. His eyes aren’t so full of hunger anymore. There’s something else there. I can’t quite figure out what it is. Maybe nerves, like me?
Doubtful. Again, this is Jackson. He’s done this sort of thing a million times before.
But he’s never done them with me.
His hand shifts to my cheek, cradling my face, his gaze never straying from mine. We’re still not speaking. I also still stand by my assessment that words tend to ruin everything between us. As in, we say all the wrong ones, and make each other mad.
Right now, the silence is perfect. His actions are telling me what he wants.
Me.
Dipping his head, he brushes my mouth with his own in the softest of kisses. The moment our lips touch, I melt. Without thought I reach up, my hand sliding around the back of his neck, holding him to me. His mouth is on mine again. And again. I open to him, his tongue a tease, sliding into my mouth. Quickly retreating.
The way he kisses me is perfect. Dreamy. I want more.
I tighten my fingers around his nape, indicating just that and he deepens the kiss. His arm squeezes me closer, pulling me into his long, hard body and I wish we were already on the bed.
Where I could rub my body all over his.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Right now is for kisses. Sweet yet slightly filthy kisses that are full of tongue and soft moans and low groans. Testing and teasing, trying to figure out what the other likes. Wants. Needs.
I like, want and need all of it.
We kiss each
other as if we’re ravenous. As if we’ve been holding back for so long, and we’re finally giving in to our urges. This is how I feel, at least. I’ve been pent-up, longing for this boy, this man, for what feels like forever. He’s shown me so many pieces of himself, but never this. This is the one piece he’s kept hidden away from me. It feels like a triumph, that his hands are finally on me, and his mouth is fused with mine.
Like I’ve won the grand prize.
My phone starts to buzz from where I left it on the bedside table and I ignore it. The buzzing stops, only to start up all over again.
“Maybe I should get that,” I say against Jackson’s lips.
“No,” he says, just as he devours me again.
I forget all about the buzzing, consumed by Jackson consuming me. That deep ache is back between my thighs, reminding me that I want more. The longer he kisses me, the lower my inhibitions become. I can feel the urgency grow until it’s a steady, demanding beat.
My phone buzzes again.
“I need to see who that is,” I say after I rip my lips from Jackson’s.
He breathes deep, his arms springing away from me as he lets me go. I check the phone and see it’s Ava trying to FaceTime me.
At ten thirty at night.
I send Jackson a helpless look. “I should answer it.”
He nods. Swallows hard. “Go for it.”
Not caring that she’ll see us together, I answer the call, my image popping up in the camera as I wait for Ava to appear and Jackson’s nowhere in sight, completely out of view. I look a mess. Thoroughly kissed, my lips swollen, my eyes bright. I run a hand over my hair, tucking the strands behind my ears and finally, Ava’s face appears.
It’s soaked with tears.
“What’s wrong?” I say, my heart freezing in fear. “Is everything okay?”
She sniffs. Dashes a hand under one eye, then the other. “I hate it here,” she wails.
I collapse on the edge of my mattress, my own heart breaking at seeing my best friend so upset. “Aw, you’ll get used to it.”
“I miss everyone. Why did I leave? What was I thinking? I miss my mom and dad, and Beck. I miss Eli so much. I miss you.” She starts to actually cry. “I miss everyone. I have no friends. My boyfriend is going to break up with me, I just know it.”
“Wait, what?” I shoot a look in Jackson’s direction, who just shrugs in reply. “What do you mean, Eli is going to break up with you? Did he say something?”
“No, not at all. I’m just worried. How did my sister make her long-distance relationship work with Ash? I don’t get it. I want to fling myself off a bridge, I’m so miserable,” Ava says.
“Hey, don’t say stuff like that. You’re scaring me,” I tell her, dead serious.
“Oh, like I’d actually do that. You know I wouldn’t.” She sniffs. Wipes at her face with one hand, her eyes bloodshot. “I’m sorry I’m calling so late. Eli was exhausted. We talked for two hours tonight, and he was falling asleep right in front of me. I miss him so much.”
“I know he misses you too. I also heard he’s going to San Diego to play your school,” I say. “Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“Yes, at least I’ll get to see him, but it won’t be enough.” She sniffs yet again, clearly feeling sorry for herself. “I’m coming home during his bye week.”
“When is that?”
“First week in October. I can’t wait. I’ll get to see you too.” She offers me a weak smile. “What are you up to?”
Uh, about to mess around with Jackson? We might even have sex?
Yeah. Can’t say that. Especially in front of Jackson. “I just got off work. Was about to go to bed.”
“You like working there? At Doghouse?” she asks.
Clearly, she wants to have a conversation.
I send Jackson a sympathetic look and he plops down on my bed, stretching out his long legs toward me, his head propped on my pillows. He slips his arms behind his head, watching me with a smirk on my face as I listen to Ava. She’s lonely, I can tell. I would be too if I were her, missing all of us, who are all still pretty much here together.
So I let her talk, and tell her that I miss her when she starts to wrap the conversation up.
“You should come to San Diego too,” she suggests.
“I wish I could, but I’m working this weekend,” I say. “Plus, my car is at the shop. It needs a new alternator.”
“Oh no,” she says. “What happened?”
And that turns into an additional five-minute conversation. I glance up to check on Jackson to see he’s lying there, the smirk gone, his eyes closed.
Damn it, he’s going to fall asleep.
We talk some more, because screw it. Jackson is sleeping. I can tell by how deeply he’s breathing. And he’s so cute. He looks so young when he’s asleep. Like a cute little boy.
Who can kiss like a demon and from what I can tell, has a monster dick.
Oh geez, where did those thoughts just come from?
Blushing, I maintain a normal conversation with Ava and never once bring up Jackson. Not even in regards to the car repair. We end the call with lots of I love yous, I miss yous and hope to see you soon.
I carefully set my phone on the bedside table and watch Jackson. He’s still asleep. Dead to the world.
Since nothing is currently happening, and I don’t want to disturb him, I decide to take a shower.
It feels good to wash the slime of my evening off of me, and actually, I’m really glad Ava interrupted us. I did not want to have one of my first sexual experiences with my dream man happen while I smell like the Doghouse Grill.
Gross.
I wash my hair and lather my body in my favorite body scrub that leaves my skin feeling smooth and soft. Once I’m done, I dry off, use my favorite scented lotion, put on a cute pair of short pajamas I bought at Target a few weeks ago, and then open the bathroom door to see—
Jackson is still asleep. This time lying on his side, his mouth partially open, the occasional huff of sound coming from his lips.
Like a snore.
I cover my mouth to stifle any noise I might make. Like laughter. I creep around the bed to the other side and make sure my phone is charging before I turn off the lamp. Then I return to the empty side of the bed and carefully lie down next to him, on top of the covers. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, so I can barely make out his features. Unable to help myself, I reach out and touch him. Trace the length of his strong nose. One sharp cheekbone. Then the other. His lips.
His eyes snap open at the same time his fingers circle around my wrist, stopping my progression. “Gotcha.”
My heart trips over itself. “You scared me. How long have you been awake?”
“The entire time,” he says.
“No way.” I don’t believe him.
“You came out of the bathroom.” He sniffs the air, scooting closer, his face right in my damp hair. “You took a shower.”
“I did. Now I don’t smell like a grill anymore,” I say.
“Yeah, you smell way fucking better.” He releases my wrist to scoop me up, pulling me into his body. “Is Ava okay?”
“No,” I say. “She says she hates it there.”
“She’s homesick. Seeing Eli this weekend will make her feel better.” He dips his head, his mouth on my neck. “You should come to San Diego.”
Is he inviting me to watch him play? Maybe spend time with him? Or is it only for Ava’s sake?
Probably the latter.
“I can’t.” I close my eyes, my hands going to his shoulders. “I have to work.”
“You always have to work.” He drops kiss after kiss on my sensitive skin, making me shiver. “Trade shifts with someone.”
“I need the money. That’s why I always work.”
He says nothing. Just continues to kiss me. Nuzzle me. Lick me. Oh God, when he uses his tongue, my imagination explodes. I wonder what else he can do with it.
Many, many wonderful things, I�
�m sure.
His head lifts and his mouth is on mine. The kiss goes instantly deep, and I pull him to me so I’m on my back and he’s above me. His hands are on my waist, and he slips them beneath my T-shirt, skimming my sides, gooseflesh rising in their wake. When his hands find my breasts, they come to a stop.
“No bra?”
I shake my head. What was the point? At the time, I was hopeful. Plus, I don’t wear a bra to bed. I rid myself of that thing as much as possible.
He cups my breasts, his thumbs streaking across my nipples, making me hiss in a breath. “Let’s take this off.”
Jackson helps me take off my shirt. Somehow, his disappears too. And when he returns to kiss me yet again, I nearly want to cry at how good it feels to be with him, skin on skin. His is hot and smooth and hard, with soft hairs on his chest, right in the center. I run my hands over his broad shoulders, clutching him to me as we kiss and kiss, our legs tangling together.
His hands race over my skin, searching everywhere he can reach. One hand slides over my stomach, heading south, fingers toying with the waistband of my sleep shorts. His other hand cupping my breast before tracing circles around my aching nipple. His mouth is still on mine, our tongues dancing. I’m overwhelmed with sensation. His hands are literally everywhere, his tongue and mouth stealing my breaths, my thoughts. I’m shaking. Nervous. Excited. Anticipating what’s going to happen next.
When he slips his hand beneath my shorts, I don’t stop him. When he encounters nothing but bare flesh, he makes an appreciative sound. And when his hand dips further, his sure fingers finding my pussy, I moan into his mouth, encouraging him.
Oh God, that’s exactly what I want.
Those expert fingers begin to move, parting me. Searching. Sliding over my wet skin. A choked sound escapes me when he finds my clit and strums it, his rhythm slow at first, picking up quickly. I cling to him, my entire being focused on that one spot between my legs as I hold my breath. He removes his mouth from mine, shifting to my ear and whispering, “Relax,” right before he sinks his teeth into my ear lobe.
It stings. It feels good. So good. I move my hips with his hand, straining toward it, wanting more. He withdraws his fingers to get rid of my shorts, fumbling as he yanks them down. I help him, kicking them off, desperate for him to put his hand back on me and then his fingers return, making me cry out in relief.
The Sophomore Page 14