Maybe This Time

by Jennifer Snow

  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 cheris
hing 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.

  Chapter 14

  The sun pouring through the curtainless window early the next morning woke her from the best sleep she’d had since moving home. For the first time in months, she felt rested, relaxed…Jackson Westmore’s bare chest beneath her hand.

  Scrambling to a sitting position, Abigail clutched her bedsheet to her body.

  He was by far the sexiest sleeping man she’d ever seen. His hair was messed up in the best possible way and a memory of her running her hands through it while he made love to her flashed in her mind. She’d loved the feel of the thick locks, soft and silky between her fingers. The five o’clock shadow that had tickled her skin as he’d kissed her body was now a slightly longer scruffy beard that only enhanced his morning-after appeal.

  The night before had been unexpectedly one of the most freeing nights of her life. His touch, his kiss, his words had made her feel sexy and desirable. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

  Lying back down next to him, she snuggled closer. She still couldn’t believe that all those years he’d had feelings for her. That he still had those feelings. She wondered how things—how life—might have been different had she known. Their relationship probably would have been awkward and strained in a different way.

  Better not to have known.

  But she knew now. And here he was in her bed. Where he would be waking up any minute. A slight panic took hold.

  Jackson moaned as he rolled to his side and she froze, praying he wouldn’t wake up just yet. She needed a minute—make that a lifetime—to figure out what to say to him. After all, he’d had a lifetime to figure out how he’d deal with a morning after with her.

  Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she edged to the side of the bed, dragging the sheet with her. Quietly, slowly, she tossed her legs over and stood, careful not to move the bed. Thank God she’d invested in that expensive memory foam. Forget bowling balls and wine glasses; if the company wanted to sell more mattresses, they should use a sleeping man and a confused, panicked woman to illustrate their usefulness.

  Checking to make sure he was still asleep before she dropped the sheet, Abigail reached for the tank top and jeans she’d discarded the night before and quickly got dressed. Then she stood there staring at him, resisting every urge to say screw it and crawl back into bed with him, wake him up, and demand a repeat performance.

  The sex had been nothing short of amazing. Amazing and without a doubt going to complicate things on a whole new level.

  Where did they go from here? He was still Dean’s best friend and Dani’s hockey coach…and the only man to make her feel tipsy from a single touch.

  She shook her head. She had no idea what he would be expecting from her when he woke up, and she had no answers.

  Maybe she could let him sleep, sneak out of the house before he woke and not have to say anything at all.

  Sure, except she was living in his house and teaching at the same school where he coached the team her daughter played on, and her closest friend in town just so happened to be…

  Her eyes widened. Becky! She suppressed a groan. She hoped this newest development in their complicated-as-hell relationship wouldn’t hurt her friendship with the other woman.

  Either way, she needed coffee before she could deal with any of this with any kind of finesse. Tiptoeing toward the door, she grabbed her sweater from the floor and quietly opened it.

  Jackson continued to sleep. Good, keep sleeping until she had time to work through her spiraling emotions. A few months should do it, she thought with a conflicted sigh as she crept out into the hallway.

  Then the sound of the front door opening made her heart pound so loud, she was amazed it didn’t wake him.

  “Mom!” Dani called out.

  Abigail dove back into the room, shutting the door quickly and lunging at Jackson. “Wake up, wake up,” she hissed.

  He looked confused and—damn it—cute as hell as he opened one eye. “So it wasn’t a dream? I’ve had the same one for so many years, it was hard to tell…”

  “Nope. Not a dream. Now get up and crawl out the window,” she said, collecting his discarded jeans, shoes, and T-shirt from the heap on the floor and going to the window. She opened it and
threw everything outside.

  He frowned as he sat up. “Okay, I get that you’re probably regretting last night…”

  Not exactly. Well, not completely, anyway.

  “But this is a little extreme, don’t you think?” He moved back the sheets and she turned to avoid seeing the lower half of his perfect body, a body she’d now seen and touched every inch of. “Come back to bed and let’s talk about it.”

  “Dani’s home,” she hissed, seeing his boxers poking out from under the bed.

  He was out of the bed in record time, tripping over himself as he struggled to put the underwear back on. “Shit. I thought she spent the night at Becky’s. What time is it?”

  Abigail glanced at the clock on the side table. “Ten thirty? How is that possible?” She hadn’t slept that late…ever.

  “Mom! Where are you?” Dani’s voice made her heart race again.

  “Get out—go!” she said, forcing Jackson toward the window.

  “Good thing it’s a bungalow,” he muttered.

  “Wouldn’t matter,” she said, as he climbed out.

  He shot her a look. “Don’t think you’re getting out of talking about what happened last night,” he said, collecting his clothes from the ground.

  Dani’s footsteps outside the bedroom at that moment would have made her agree to anything. “Fine. Just go!” she said, closing the window as the door opened.

  “Who were you talking to?” Dani asked, coming in.

  Abigail’s heart was lodged so thick in her throat, she wasn’t sure she could utter the lie, so she avoided the question. “You’re home early.” She bent to pick up the bedsheet from the floor and quickly tossed it onto the messy bed. Her cheeks reddened at the sight of the tangled sheets; it looked like ten people had been sleeping in it.

  “Taylor and her mom had to go shopping to buy stuff for her stepdad’s homecoming party.”

  That’s right. Neil was coming home in a couple weeks from overseas. “Taylor must be excited.”

  Dani shrugged. “I guess.”

  A pang of sympathy replaced any other emotion she was feeling as she looked at her daughter’s disappointed-and-desperately-trying-to-hide-it face. She knew Dani missed Dean. It wasn’t easy on her to feel as though her father didn’t want to see her or fight for time with her. She hadn’t told Dani that Dean hadn’t signed the visitation schedule, but Dani was a smart girl. “Are you okay?”