Sweetest Mistake

by Candis Terry

  His heart pounded beneath her fist.

  “I’m done playing games,” she said, then continued before he could respond. “That’s the reason for my disappearing act six years ago and tonight. You left for the war without any promises. Without any hope. You left me here worrying that I’d never see you again. And that even if you did come back, you’d never come back for me. You made that perfectly clear the night before you left. We made love—beautiful, wonderful, soul-fulfilling love. And afterward? You pushed me away. Acted like it had never happened. Just like the night of the prom. Just like the day at the tree house.”

  Jackson swallowed. Hard.

  She sucked in a stuttered breath like she was reaching for courage or just trying to keep from slamming her fist into his face. “The problem is there was one thing I didn’t have the courage to tell you before you left,” she said. “It’s the same thing I didn’t have the nerve to tell you when you showed up at my door when I came back. Well . . . like it or not, I’m telling you now.”

  Her pause lingered a lifetime. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

  The words delivered a sucker punch that stole his breath.

  “I don’t want to be your friend with benefits,” she continued. “And unless you’re willing to admit there’s more between us than just friendship . . . I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  “What?”

  Moisture glimmered in her eyes. “I love you, Jackson. I’ve been in love with you almost my whole life. Maybe it’s been unreasonable to expect you to feel the same way.” Her slim shoulders lifted and dropped. “I don’t know. But I can’t ignore the way I feel. And I can’t keep pretending to be just your friend anymore. So how do you feel about that?”

  How did he feel?

  Damn. He couldn’t feel or think of anything past the shock and surprise of her words. Why hadn’t he gotten a clue sooner? Why hadn’t she said something a long time ago? Oh. Yeah. Because he’d pushed her away.

  He was such a stupid ass.

  “Abby . . . I . . .”

  A painful pause hung between them while a million thoughts and emotions ran laps through his head and heart and tangled the words on his tongue.

  “Yeah.” The hopeful light in her eyes extinguished. She sighed as her fingers uncurled from his shirt, and she stepped back into the house. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Abby.”

  “Good-bye, Jackson.”

  “Abby, don’t do this.”

  She closed the door in his face.

  Frustration twisted in his gut as he raised his knuckles to pound on the door. To force her to retract the finality of her words.

  What the hell?

  She’d denied him the opportunity to respond.

  And he had a lot to say.

  Finally.

  He knocked on the door and got no response.

  Rang the doorbell to no gain.

  When it became clear she wasn’t about to open the door, he dropped his hand to his side and walked back to his truck. He pulled open the door and climbed inside. Started the engine. Pressed his foot down on the brake and put it in gear. His hands trembled on the steering wheel. He lifted them and looked at them like they belonged to someone else.

  He didn’t get nervous.

  Hell, he’d always been the first to charge into battle, a three-alarm blaze, or a car teetering over the edge of a bridge.

  He didn’t fucking get nervous.

  But it wasn’t nerves. It was words that had him trembling like a kid on a scary ride.

  She’d loved him her whole life?

  Holy. Shit.

  How could he push that little nugget of valuable information aside? It’s what he’d always wanted but never imagined. Never dared to hope for because the fear of the loss of her had always outweighed the reward.

  She’d loved him her whole life.

  So why was he sitting in his truck like a big dumb-ass with his heart running a marathon and the woman he’d loved practically his whole life inside that house, locking him out?

  Abby ignored the pounding on the door and the ring of the bell as she grabbed her glass off the table and downed the remains of the Moscato. Her heart did a slow roll in her chest, then tightened and sucked the breath from her lungs like she’d dived off a thousand-foot cliff.

  She’d taken a chance.

  Played her cards.

  And lost.

  When she’d made her declaration, the shuttered look on his face, his closed-off body language, and his lack of a response hadn’t been a surprise.

  But it had been devastating.

  All she’d ever wanted was Jackson Wilder.

  He didn’t want her.

  End of story.

  She didn’t want to hear his explanations or excuses, so there was no point in prolonging the inevitable. She let the doorbell go unanswered. Eventually, he gave up, and she heard the engine of his truck roll over.

  Her heart ached as she padded barefoot through the living room and peered inside the cat condo, where Liberty and Miss Kitty were curled up together. She picked up the various balls, chews, and yarn mice that were scattered about and tucked them inside a different compartment for another day of play. Then she gave each of them a soft stroke over their little heads.

  “Sleep tight little guys.” Yeah, maybe they were actually girls. And maybe they would only sleep for an hour or two, then they’d be bouncing around the house in a game of tag and tumble. But she loved them, and they all belonged to each other.

  Exhaustion washed over her, and all she could think to do was to get to bed before she crumbled into a heap of blubbering misery.

  As she headed toward the stairs, she passed by the wicker basket she’d bought for Izzy. She picked it up and looked at the sweet faces on the stuffed animals and their shiny little tiaras. Hopefully, the gift would bring Izzy some joy. Just because Jackson didn’t want anything more from her than a buddy hug or quick sexual release, she didn’t intend to end the new friendships she’d started or the older ones she valued.

  She’d come back to Sweet to face her demons. To find the courage either to move forward or walk away. To be honest with herself about what—and who—she truly wanted.

  She might have lost the man she loved, but she wouldn’t stop breathing.

  Chapter 13

  When she was halfway up the stairs, the sudden pounding on the door made her jump. In case it was a neighbor in need, she didn’t hesitate to open it.

  In a rush, Jackson pulled her into his arms and was kissing her mouth, her cheeks, everywhere his lips could land. Then he cupped her face in his hands, touched his forehead to hers, and looked down into her eyes.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Her heart took off in a dead run, and hope pumped through her blood. “Yes, what?”

  He pressed his mouth to hers. Fed her a kiss that told her everything she wanted—needed to know.

  Still, she craved the words.

  Needed to hear him say them if only to make it real to himself.

  “Yes,” he said again. “I want more than a friendship with you. I want to be more than friends with benefits, Abby. I want you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “How could you disappoint me?” She caressed his face. “I’ve known you practically forever. I know who you are.”

  “I’ve failed too many times. You deserve someone special.”

  “You’re special to me.”

  He bent his head and kissed her again. Backed her into the house and kicked the door closed behind him.

  “To be perfectly clear. I operate on two levels,” he said between kisses. “Act first. And think later. You are like a fire in my blood. And everyone knows that I’m the first one to rush in, guns blazing. I have no control. And that’s what it’s like with you. No. Control.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she said.

  “For y
ou? For us? It might be. I want more. But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared to death to go after it or that I won’t totally screw it up.”

  She smiled. “I’ll protect you.”

  “Yeah, but who’s going to protect my damned heart once you figure out I’m—”

  “Sssh.” She pressed her finger to his lips. “You’re the man I always knew you’d be. The man I’ve always wanted. I know you’re not perfect. No one is. All I have to do to prove that theory is look in the mirror.”

  His eyes darkened. Searched hers. “Then if neither of us is perfect, maybe we’re perfect for each other.”

  The weight in her heart lifted. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

  “What?” He grinned. “You didn’t know the day I kicked Jimmy Barton’s ass back in kindergarten when he threw sand in your face?”

  “Well . . .” She lifted to her toes and pressed her lips to his. “There was that.”

  “Do that again.”

  “What?” She noted the seriousness in his eyes. “Kiss you?”

  “Yes.”

  She cupped the back of his strong neck, wove her fingers up into the soft hair at his nape, and drew his head down. “Gladly.”

  The kiss they shared robbed her of thought. It was hot and tingly, with carnal implications and whispers of need and love. His greedy hands slid down her arms and back, gripped her bottom, and brought her body against his. Her back arched, and his long, thick erection pressed into her from behind the fabric of his jeans.

  She loved knowing she excited him.

  Made him lose control.

  She slipped her hand down the front of his pants, gave him a firm squeeze, and caressed him through the denim.

  He pushed into her hand even while he said, “You might want to stop that.”

  “Why?”

  “You got plans for the rest of the night?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He lowered his face to the curve of her neck. “I do. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let it end too soon.” He grasped the bottom of her dress, drew it up over her head, and tossed it to the chair.

  “Jesus, Abby.” Air rushed from his lungs. “Have you been naked under there all night?”

  “I’m wearing a thong.”

  “And a nice one it is too.” His big hand trailed down her stomach, then covered the skimpy scrap of black lace with a gentle squeeze. “If I’d known this was all you had on beneath that dress, I would never have made it up on that stage without embarrassing the hell out of myself.”

  He kissed her. Played a sensual game of give-and-take with her tongue. Then, while he rubbed her sex and made her throb, he skated those moist kisses down the side of her neck. Continued lower, where he paid careful attention to each breast by licking. Sucking. And gently blowing warm air across her peaked nipples.

  “If I’d have known you’d do this,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair, “I might have mentioned it sooner.”

  Much to her delight, his kisses didn’t stop at her breasts. He sank to his knees, and those incredible lips traveled down her belly. Warm and slick, his tongue licked and teased along the outline of her thong. Strong hands slid up the backs of her legs, gently grasped her behind, and brought her to his mouth. He pressed his lips to the apex of her thighs, kissed and blew his hot breath against the black lace, and set fire to her blood.

  “That feels amazing,” she murmured, arching against him. “But . . .”

  He looked up. “But?”

  “I really need to touch you.”

  “Be my guest.” He held his arms open wide.

  She grabbed hold of his shirt and dragged him up to his full height. She popped the buttons free, and an appreciative sigh slipped past her lips when her fingertips met the warmth of that strong chest. Short, soft blond hairs lightly spread across the tanned skin between flat brown nipples, then narrowed and dipped to a trail that swirled around his belly button and disappeared below his zipper.

  She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and grabbed for his belt, laughing when their hands tangled in the process of velvety strokes and quick touches. Boots, denim, and boxer briefs were tossed aside.

  “Now, we’re talking.” She took her time to look him over and admire the sizeable erection that jutted from his hard-muscled body. She cupped his testicles in her hands and tested their weight while he smiled. When she caressed and stroked him with determined fingers, his eyes drifted closed, and he gave a groan that was all male.

  “Don’t you dare take off that thong while I’m not looking,” he warned.

  She squeezed him again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  With his eyes closed and his head tipped back, she bent at the knees and took what she wanted. She stroked the length of him, took the smooth, swollen crest of his cock between her lips, and received another low, deep groan for her efforts. His hands dove into her hair, but instead of forcing her head to stay in place, he ran his fingers through like he was playing with water. Just as she was getting into a rhythm, his hands paused and his body tensed.

  “Sugar, you need to stop,” he growled. “Or this will be over before we even get started.” He reached down, slipped his hands beneath her arms, and lifted her to her feet. He glanced over at the sofa piled high with boxes of her parents’ cast-offs. “Guess the sofa’s out of the question.”

  She chuckled. “If you think you can make it upstairs, I’ve got a full-sized bed that your feet will probably hang off.”

  He gave her a hot, lingering kiss. “Lead the way.”

  She took him by the hand and headed up the stairs. Midway up, he tugged her hand and forced her to a halt on the step above him. She turned and found him looking up at her with heavy eyelids and desire darkening his face.

  “If I have to watch your fine ass and that little string thong one more second . . . Nope.” He gripped both her arms and set her down on the step. “Not going to make it.”

  He positioned himself down a couple of stairs, braced his hands on either side of her hips, and leaned into her. While her blood and heart pounded in her ears, and her lady parts jumped up and down for attention, he kissed her like he meant business. And then he sank. Broke the kiss with a smacking sound, tugged the triangle of black lace off, and threw it over his shoulder. Where it landed she didn’t care.

  A second later, he was back, easing her legs apart. Covering her with his moist mouth.

  Sensation whipped through her abdomen as he used his fingers to part her, then pressed his warm tongue up and down her clit and slid into her core.

  “Mmmm,” he murmured against her slick, eager flesh. “Much better.”

  She braced her elbows on the stairs, dropped her head back, and with a long, drawn-out moan that matched the long, slow slide of his tongue, agreed.

  This was much, much better.

  Out of all her favorite things in the world, having Jackson naked between her thighs ranked right up there at the number one spot.

  Her skin was so soft, Jackson thought as he pressed kisses to the inside of her thighs. He couldn’t imagine a better place to be than between those sweet, firm thighs, and hearing her moan his name. At least until she sank her fingers into his hair and lifted his head.

  He looked up at the dreamy tilt to her eyes and the little smile that curled her mouth.

  “You need to stop,” she whispered, mimicking his earlier words. “Or it’ll be over before we even get started.”

  He moved up her body, kissed her breasts, her shoulders, her mouth. Rubbed his erection in that slick spot between her thighs. “You have something else in mind?”

  She nodded. Wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him down.

  He wanted to take his time.

  To make slow, passionate love to her.

  She deserved that. She deserved more. But when the head of his cock nudged the entrance of her hot, moist, tight body, he lost all focus.

  Something raw and primal cut through him lik
e a diamond-tipped saw. When she wrapped her hand around his cock and gave him a long, firm stroke, he was gone. Lost in the intense pleasure of her touch.

  She guided him in and dropped her head back to the step with a long sigh as he fully pushed into her. He felt her stretch to accept all of him. Felt the liquid warmth surround him like nothing he’d ever known.

  It was nothing he’d ever known.

  Urgency pumped through his veins. His lungs squeezed, and his gut tightened when he stopped moving his hips.

  Embedded deep inside her, his dick throbbed.

  Begged for him to continue.

  “Sugar.” He eased from her wet heat. “I left the condoms in my pants downstairs.”

  “It’s okay. I’m good.” She nodded fast and furious. “Clean. On birth control.” She lifted her head and looked at him through a lust-filled haze. “You good?”

  “I’m good,” he panted. “Clean. Not on birth control.”

  She gripped his hips tighter with her legs, effectively trapping him and sending a clear message. “Then if you stop now and go back down these stairs, I may have to kill you.”

  Even if she hadn’t been on birth control, he wouldn’t have stopped unless she’d told him to.

  Abby wanted a baby. And he’d be happy to give her a dozen.

  Starting right now.

  He pushed in deeper until the head of his penis touched her cervix. He retreated and pushed in again, almost losing his mind and control over the absolute pleasure and sensation of being inside her without a layer of latex between them.

  His arms shook as he thrust into her over and over. First slow. Steady. Gentle. Then faster. Harder. Deeper. All the while he watched her beautiful face. When her hands came up, and she caressed her own breasts, it was like watching the best kind of porn up close and personal. She made him want to last forever just to please her and keep that smile on her lips.