The Hookup Situation (Colorado Springs University #2)

Chapter 19

NINETEEN

PRESTON

“Hey,” Paris says, knocking on my door jam and poking his head into my room. “We’re about to light the candle.”

I nod from where I’m lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I haven’t been able to get Jackson or his words out of my head since the night of the party. All the things he said about not being good enough, for his parents, or for his past relationships, about nobody wanting him, and I hate that he grew up believing that what he had to offer wasn’t enough. That who he is wasn’t enough. It kills me that the people who were supposed to care for him and support him and encourage him, taught him to think so little of himself instead. Taught him that he wasn’t worthy of their time and attention. That the guys he was with didn’t see him for the incredible person he is. Because he’s never been anything but perfect to me. Not that he doesn’t have flaws, just that I want him anyway. I want to love him. I want to show him how amazing and worthy and valued he is. I want to show him that nothing could make me want him less and no one could ever mean to me what he does.

But it’s been three days, and he hasn’t called or texted, or shown up outside my door in the Hallmark style gesture of apologizing, so maybe that’s not something he wants from me.

I roll out of bed and head down the stairs for the yearly tradition of lighting a candle for Phoenix on Christmas Eve. We have the candle next to a picture of him and when we light it we take a few seconds of silence to just remember him, and tell him we love him, and miss him. Then we take turns sharing memories before we have supper. It helps us as a family feel closer to him around this time of year and it brings us closer to each other, too.

We gather in the living room, the picture on the TV stand, and Mom sets the candle next to it before she lights it, and we sit. The lights are low and there’s tears as we remember our brother, and our parents remember their son, but there’s smiles too as we share the moments where Phoenix made us laugh so hard our sides were splitting, or how he loved to give Paris piggy back rides, or the time he tried to convince me that Easter eggs were in fact the Easter Bunny’s poo and he came around and crapped in all the yards.

Our parents hug Paris and I afterwards and tell us how much they love us.

We enjoy our dinner and play a game together, then sit and watch Single All the Way on Netflix.

Mom and Dad head to bed after that and Paris and I stay up a little bit longer.

I’m in my room, changing into my pajamas when I hear a noise outside my bedroom window. It sounds suspiciously like singing, but we don’t get carolers where we are, and it’s just one person. It’s a bit muffled but I make out the beginning of Blue Christmas .

A moment later I hear a thunk against my window. What the fuck? Is Paris playing some joke on me or something?

I move to the window, and my breath leaves me when I see Jackson standing on the front lawn, bundled up in his winter gear. He belts the rest of the song as I open the window. Fuck, it’s freezing out there. And it’s snowing.

He sees me and keeps singing. His voice is amazing, and I can’t help grinning while I listen, staring at him. Because he’s here. Fuck, he’s actually here. I swallow as tears fill my eyes. He gave me my Hallmark movie moment after all.

The song ends but he keeps singing with his own lyrics that have me laughing.

“And please let me inside because I’m freezing my balls off out here, and I know I was an asshole, but I swear I’ll make it right. But I won’t be able to if I die of hypothermia.”

The next voice I hear is Paris’s from across the hall. “For the love of god, Preston, let the man in so we can all go the fuck to sleep!”

I move downstairs and unlock the front door before swinging it open. The cold air hits me again and I shiver as Jackson moves through the snow towards me and warmth.

When he’s standing on the front porch he stops and looks at me. His cheeks are rosy and his hair is full of freshly fallen snow. He looks tired, and a bit uneasy, but beautiful, and I’m so fucking in love with him.

“I love you,” he tells me. “I love you, and I want you, too. Please —”

I step outside and grip his face, pressing my lips to his, cutting off his words.

He’s smiling timidly when I pull away. “Can we talk?” he asks, and I take his hand, pulling him inside. He removes his coat and shoes and then we head up the stairs to my room, where I shut the door.

He still looks nervous as he stands there, so I suggest lying down. We do, facing each other, and I reach over and stroke his cheek.

“You’re here,” I say, still unable to believe it.

“I’m here,” he says, gripping my hand in his. “I’m really, really scared, but I’m here.”

For the next hour, we talk. We talk about everything. About his childhood, his parents, his past relationships, the boy who cheated on him, all the boys who told him he was only good for a fuck, all the things that were running through his head while we were together, his feelings of unworthiness, of not being enough, his fear of being rejected. He even tells me about the panic attacks he’s had lately, and I listen, my heart breaking for him, because I hate that he was struggling so much and I never knew.

“I’m not very good at sharing emotions,” he admits, clearly exhausted when he’s finished, his body trembling, whether from fear or fatigue, or both, I can’t tell. “That wasn’t something we did in my family, and it kinda terrifies me.”

“Thank you for telling me all of this,” I say. I know that was hard for him. He’s opening his heart up, being vulnerable, and letting me in, when everything in him is telling him not to. “Thank you for trusting me. I know this is scary for you, Jax. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. I love you, so fucking much.”

He nods and I move in, brushing a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Preston,” he says. “For how I treated you. For everything.”

I kiss him. “I just want to love you, Jackson. And I don’t want you to ever doubt my love. Please, if you’re ever afraid, talk to me. If you’re feeling insecure, talk to me. If you’re feeling unloved, talk to me. I don’t ever want you to think you aren’t everything to me. If I have to reassure you every single day for the rest of our lives I will, because you’re worth it. Just don’t leave me, and don’t ghost me. Please.”

He nods. “I’m thinking about talking to someone after break. About everything. I think it’s gonna take some time for me to get my shit together, so if you don’t want to be with me right now, I’ll understand.”

I smile at him and squeeze his hand. “When I said I wasn’t going anywhere I meant it. You’re stuck with me, Tinkerbell. I think seeing someone is a great idea. And if you want I can even go with you. But I don’t need you to have all your shit together to be with you. And you know you’re not alone, right? Your parents might be shitty, but you have a lot of people in your life who care about you. I could tell how much your roommates care about you after only being there a few minutes, and Lucy and Rory; those two would burn the world down for you in a heartbeat.”

He smiles and gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, they would.”

We kiss then, for several moments, soft and slow, remembering each other, savoring each other, before I slide my tongue along his lower lip and he opens for me. He moans as I taste him, and then he’s tangling his tongue with mine and shoving me back as he climbs on top of me and straddles me, his gaze heated. Fuck, yeah.

“There’s my man,” I say, gripping his hips.

He slides his shirt off and then grips my chin in his hand and slots our lips together once again. This kiss is heated and fucking filthy and I moan as he devours me, my hips bucking, my dick hard and aching for his touch. He kisses me and ruts against me at the same time, my moans and whimpers getting louder and more desperate with each glide of his hips, each brush of his cock against mine.

“Fuck,” I gasp when he pulls away. “I missed you so fucking much.”

He swallows and I can tell he wants to say something but is struggling. “Did you… with anyone else?” I shake my head.

“No, no one. I couldn’t. I didn’t even jerk off.”

He bites his lip and his cheeks redden. “Really?”

I grin. “Yeah, really. Now fucking touch me before I lose my mind.”

“You’re sex deprived, so I’m gonna let that slide,” he says, as he leans over and kisses me again.

After a few more kisses he pulls back again and lifts my shirt. I raise up as far as I can and he slides it up and off, tossing it to the floor. We kiss again, and then pull back long enough to scramble out of the rest of our clothes, before he’s on top of me once more, that lithe, sexy, beautiful body finally back where it belongs. Fuck he feels so good and he’s not even inside me.

“Holy shit,” I gasp as we move against each other, our dicks sliding together as our tongues tangle. I grip his thighs as all of his glorious naked skin sends shockwaves of pleasure racing down my spine over and over. I can’t fucking get enough of him.

“Oh, fuck,” I cry out as my balls draw up. “Jax.”

“Me, too, baby,” he pants. He kisses me again and seconds later we’re both shouting our releases, our cocks pulsing against each other and spraying between us. He collapses on top of me, and I hold him, both of us breathing heavily, our bodies slick with sweat.

“Can you get hard again?” he asks a moment later, nibbling on my ear.

“Hell, yeah.” He lifts his head and kisses me again, then sits up and swipes his hand through our combined cum, before he takes me in his hand and strokes me. Holy fuck, that’s hot. I’m moaning and panting as I watch him, and my dick is getting harder and harder as he works me in his fist, and so is his.

“I want you to spank me,” I blurt, and he gives me that sexy smirk.

“You missed that, huh?” He doesn’t stop his ministrations and I’m talking through my grunts and groans of pleasure. I don't miss the way his eyes twinkle. He loves this.

“Fuck, yes, I missed it. I went almost four weeks without your hands on my ass and it’s going through withdrawal.”

He gives a sexy chuckle. “I’d love to spank you, doll, but it’s not exactly quiet.” My cock is hard as granite now and leaking obscenely.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t care if you wake up the entire fucking state, I want my spankings, Jackson Bardot.”

He raises an eyebrow at me and I grin. “Please?” He kisses me, and then slides off of me.

“Roll over.”

I do, shoving my very needy ass in the air and wiggling it. He laughs and then leans forward and presses his lips to my cheeks. Oh, fuck, that’s good. It’s not even especially erotic, it’s just him, his lips on my skin, soft and gentle. It makes me feel cherished and adored, and I love it.

A second later I see him setting his rings aside on the nightstand, and my hole flutters at the same time that my dick twitches in anticipation.

“I love you,” he tells me.

“Show me,” I say, and his hand comes down on my ass, the sting so damn good I’m begging for more as I whimper into the pillow. He brings his hand down on my other cheek and the thwack resounds throughout the room. I’m fully aware my brother is probably hearing this across the hall, and maybe even my parents downstairs, but I’m so fucking desperate for him, I don’t care. I need this.

“Shit, don’t stop,” I whine as his hand comes down on me again and again. “Please, Jax. I need more.”

He nuzzles my ass crack and then presses more kisses to my cheeks as I squirm. Then he’s hitting me again, and these spankings are even more delicious than the last. Every single one makes my skin sing with pleasure, my dick throbbing as it leaks onto the sheets and tears slide down my cheeks.

“Shit, baby, you look so good,” he rasps. “My handprints all over this incredible ass. Tell me you're mine, beautiful.” He sucks and nibbles on my ass again before he spanks me hard.

“Yes,” I gasp. “God, yes, I’m yours, Jax. I’m all yours. Only yours.”

He spanks me again, and again. “God, I need to come,” I cry, my body shaking.

“Do it,” he says. “Come hard for me, baby.”

He spanks me two more times before I’m crying out, my dick pulsing untouched as I spray my release.

He shoves me to my stomach. “Don’t move,” he orders, and then I hear him jerking himself off. Only seconds later I feel the warmth of his release on my backside, and then he’s collapsing on top of me once again, and we’re panting and shaking with the aftershocks of our orgasms.

I turn my head and his lips meet mine, before he’s rolling off of me. We use the wipes in the nightstand to clean ourselves off, and toss them in the trash can by the bed, before he’s curling into me, and my arms come around him.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs, a smile on his face that warms my heart.

“Merry Christmas, Tinkerbell,” I say, nuzzling his nose with mine.

“Thanks for that, guys!” Paris shouts from across the hall. “I needed something to talk about at my next therapy session!”

We can’t stop laughing.

When I wake up the next morning with Jackson in my arms I wonder if I’m dreaming, because how can Christmas morning be this perfect? But when he shoves his ass back against my hard on and then grips my hand and kisses my fingers, I know it’s real.

“Morning,” he murmurs in that deep voice that’s even more sexy when he’s just woken.

“Morning,” I reply.

“Think we have time for another round?” He grins at me as he rolls over.

“I think Paris is scarred enough, and I think he’d never forgive us if we made him wait to open presents.”

Jackson chuckles and kisses me. When he pulls back he rests his forehead against mine. “Your parents won’t kill me for breaking their son’s heart, will they?”

“They’ll forgive you just like I did,” I assure him, then press another kiss to his addictive lips.

“I really like your family,” he says, and I have a feeling that’s hard for him to admit. “I don’t think you’ll ever know what it meant for me to be here for Thanksgiving with you guys. I’d never had that before. Any of it. All those things that maybe felt small, they were huge to me. The outings, the games, the cookie baking, even the banter. I just soaked it up, because I knew how much I was going to miss it.”

“You don’t have to miss it anymore,” I say, and he smiles.

We climb out of bed and dress. I put my discarded pajamas back on and Jackson slips into the sexy purple panties that he came in here in. I slide my arms around him and pull him close, and he chuckles as I kiss him, my hand sliding down to cup his ass under the lace material. God, the contrast of his naked skin against my palm and the lacy panties on the back of my hand is incredible, and my cock jerks.

“You’re so predictable,” he whispers against my lips. “My panty slut.”

“You know it,” I say, then kiss him again, and squeeze his ass one more time before letting him go.

“Do you have pjs I can wear?” he asks, blushing. “I left my suitcase in the car.”

I grin and toss him a pair. They’re too big on his slender frame, but he manages, and looks adorable doing it. I love seeing him in my clothes.

I kiss him and take his hand, and we head down the stairs, greeted by the Christmas music playing through the speakers and the scent of Mom’s cinnamon rolls coming from the kitchen. There’s a fire roaring in the wood burning stove and Dad is sitting in his chair while Paris sets the table. The tree looks gorgeous in the early morning light, presents set out underneath it.

Ginger rises from her bed and saunters over to us, sniffing Jackson and wagging her tail. He smiles and bends down to pet her. “Hey, girl, I missed you.”

“Morning boys,” Dad says. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” we say in unison.

“It’s good to see you again, Jackson.”

“Thank you, it’s good to see you all, too.”

Mom and Paris saunter over from the kitchen and Mom’s eyes fill with tears as she smiles and takes us in, our hands clasped.

“My boys,” she says, putting her hand over her heart. “Come here, Jackson.” She holds her arms out and he goes to her. I see their shoulders shaking as they cry and then they’re pulling back and Mom is resting her hand on his cheek.

“We’re so glad you’re here,” she says.

“Easy for you to say,” Paris pipes up. “I’ll have to work for twenty five years to earn enough to pay for all the therapy I’m gonna need after listening to them go at it last night.”

“Oh, stop,” Mom shushes him. “They’re just two healthy boys in love. Nothing wrong with that.”

Paris groans as Jackson flushes, and Dad and I laugh.

We eat breakfast gathered around the table, and I can’t stop smiling and squeezing Jackson’s hand. It means everything to me that he’s here, willing to give us a chance, trusting me to treat him with the care and love he deserves, and I won’t fuck that up. I’ll do everything I can to make sure he knows that he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

After breakfast we gather in the living room and open presents. Jackson has tears in his eyes when Mom hands him one.

“You got me something?” he says. “But you didn’t even know I’d be here.”

“I had a feeling,” she says, with a smile. “And if I was wrong that’s what returns are for.”

We laugh and he opens it. Inside the box is a pair of winter boots, a black and red scarf that will look amazing on him, a matching headband and a pair of thick black gloves.

“Now you have your own things for when you go sledding with us,” Dad says.

“I got the headband instead of the hat because I noticed you don’t like wearing things over your hair,” Mom chimes in.

Jackson is smiling as tears slide down his cheeks. “Oh my god, that’s so sweet. Thank you. I love it.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” Mom tells him.

After everyone else has had a chance to open a present, Mom hands another one to Jackson.

“That’s from me,” I tell him, and he looks at me, startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t even think of it. Shit.”

I shake my head and grip his cheeks in my hands, planting a kiss on his lips. “You gave me the best present in the world last night.”

“Oh, gross,” Paris gags. “Seriously?”

I laugh. “Not that. Though it’s definitely a close second,” I murmur.

Paris groans and Mom and Dad laugh.

“I meant you,” I tell Jackson. “I don’t need anything else.”

“Oh, well, good, I’ll just take these back then,” Paris says, scooting out of his chair and reaching for the water bottle and T-shirt he gave me. The shirt has the words “College student” on it, but the “ent” is crossed out. It’s corny and amazing.

“Hey,” I snatch the gift and he laughs. “Mine.”

Jackson laughs, too, and tears the paper off the medium-sized box in his hands, before lifting the lid. “Oh my god,” he says, pulling out the Evenstar necklace. He’s beaming and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that smile. “This is amazing.”

He holds it out to me and turns and I slide it around his neck, before clasping it in the back. It doesn’t quite have the same appeal with him wearing my pajamas as I know it will when he’s dressed in his regular clothes, but I love the way it looks on him regardless.

After presents we clean up, and then Jackson and I shower separately before heading back downstairs. He's dressed in black skinny jeans with holes in the knees, a gray v-neck T-shirt and a black sweater that’s open in the front. And yeah, the Evenstar necklace looks sexy as hell on him now, his smoky eyeshadow spotless, and his dark hair perfectly styled.

I stand in the archway leading from the living area to the kitchen and pull him to me. “I love you,” I tell him, and I can see my parents watching us out of the corner of my eye, smiling.

“I love you, too,” he says.

“Oh, my heart,” Mom croons.

“You guys have to kiss,” Dad says, then gestures above us. I look up and grin, before my eyes meet Jackson’s again.

He nods and our lips meet under the mistletoe.