34. Jackson
THIRTY-FOUR
Jackson
I don’t see Blakely the rest of the weekend, even though she’s all I can think about. As usual, her schedule’s booked—appearances with her friends, nights on the town, and photo shoots making it impossible for us to sneak away.
Normally I’d tag along and fulfill my “babysitting” duties, but it feels wrong to do her father’s bidding when I’ve had her cum on my tongue.
So instead, my weekend is spent resisting the urge to check her social media just so I can see her and trying to convince my mom to come to California for the holidays.
I don’t want to go back to Sugarlake.
Not yet.
Although, the thought doesn’t sting like it used to. Lately, I’ve even found myself nostalgic over the memories, missing the small town and everything in it. Longing for my friends, instead of living in solitude, save for a nineteen-year-old who I’m breaking all the rules for.
It’s these thoughts that fill me with hope. With the inner knowing that even if I’m not ready yet, that one day soon, I will be.
With Blakely at my side .
A lightness sweeps through my body when I wake up on Monday morning and head into Donahue Motors. For the first time in almost a year, I feel like myself again. My smiles are genuine, not used as a cover for the festering hole inside of me.
I’d like to think it’s because I’m healing myself, but that’s not entirely the truth.
It’s because of Blakely.
It’s a dangerous game I’m playing and the logical side of me knows I should put a stop to it. I started bonding with her out of a need for distraction, and if I think on the situation for too long, a sense of codependency prods at my fractures—the glue holding my pieces together entirely dependent on Blakely making them stick. I wonder if it’s the same for her.
But there’s no guarantee we even have tomorrow, so I might as well live for today.
I tinker around with my toolbox, my eyes floating toward the glass doors every few seconds, waiting to see her. But she doesn’t show up, and I can only procrastinate work for so long, so eventually I give in and start my day, my excitement twisting into an ache with every passing minute.
I’m beneath the hood of a Cobra when I hear the telltale smack of shoes on the concrete floor. My body thrums with anticipation and I know without even looking that it’s Blakely. I can feel the shift in the air, the one that’s always been there between us. The one I mistook for annoyance, when really, it was my soul scratching at my skin, reaching out to try and touch hers.
I haven’t felt like this in…ever.
With Lee, there was always a sense of calm. A warm blanket on a chilly night. One that sends comfort cascading over your skin and warms up your insides.
With Blakely, it’s a torrential downpour, making me desperate to cling to everything she is, terrified I’ll drown in her absence.
And if this type of feeling is possible, if this is how Lee feels for Chase, can I really fault her for her choices?
Something untangles from my chest and floats away at the realization.
“There’s a package here for a Mister Jackson Rhoades.”
My heart skips at Blakely’s voice, a smile spreading across my face. I slide out from under the Cobra, my body shifting into high gear when she comes into focus.
My eyes drink in every inch of her.
“And what a pretty package she is.” I wiggle my brows.
She giggles and strikes a pose.
I stand up, needing to wash the grease from my arms, but pause when I’m about to pass by her.
“Hi.” I smile.
“Hi yourself.” She grins back.
The need to reach out and touch her tightens my stomach. “I wanted to?—”
“How are you—” We speak at the same time and her cheeks redden as she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear.
Clearing her throat, she tries again. “You should get over here and say hi to me properly.”
I hold out my oil-stained hands. “You don’t want me touching you right now, princess. Trust .”
“Oh.” Her eyes scan my arms and then glance behind her, peering into the main building.
And then she’s on me.
Her hands grip my neck, her legs wrapping around my waist as she climbs up my body. My arms shoot out to the side, not wanting to get grease stains on her clothes. It doesn’t deter her—she grips me like a vise, her mouth peppering kisses all over my face, before locking our lips together like two perfect pieces of a puzzle.
My stomach lights up like rockets, sparks flying through me. Blood rushes to my groin and I bite back a moan. “Wait.” I break away. “Someone could see.”
She slides down my body, straightening her outfit and glancing behind her again. “You’re right. I just missed you is all.”
My heart thunks against my chest. “Did you?”
She smiles wide. “Duh. Plus, I never got to say goodbye and it…it felt weird after—you know.”
My mouth waters at the memory of her taste. “Do I?” My brow quirks. “You’ll have to refresh my memory.”
“Jackson, be serious,” she admonishes, her lips twitching.
Laughing, I walk over to the sink, scrubbing the oil from my forearms. “So, where’s the package?”
“Oh, I set it on the table over there.” She points to the rows of inventory sitting on floor-to-ceiling metal shelves. The perfect place to hide in plain view.
I dry off my arms and grab her hand. “You’ll have to show me where.”
I weave us through the parts until we hit the shadows, gripping her hips, lifting her up, and settling her on top of the table. She gasps, her arms wrapping around my neck as I press myself between her legs. My fingers grip her jaw, forcing her eyes to stay on me. To make sure that she stays with me.
“Now I can say hi properly.” Leaning in, I capture her lips with mine, my body buzzing from the high of having her in my arms. From the rush of knowing that anyone could come in and catch us. The excitement of doing something so risky makes my cock grow until it’s aching for release.
One of my hands wraps around the back of her head, my fingers tangling in the strands of her hair as I thrust my hips, sliding my hardness against her.
She leans back, her mouth parted like an invitation. “Oh my god, Jackson.”
My palm moves from her jaw and covers her mouth, pressing firmly as her back bows. “Shh. Quiet.” I lean in, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her throat, forcing her farther back until she’s flat against the table. “Fuck,” I rasp against her skin. “You drive me wild. ”
My abs tense when her hands graze my stomach, her hips rotating against me. Her palm presses against my erection, stroking me from root to tip through the fabric. My balls tighten and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning.
“Does that feel okay?” she whispers.
Her question grips on to the little bit of logic I have left and draws it to the surface. Every single cell in my body begs for me to ignore it, but instead, I reluctantly pull away.
My hand releases her hair and reaches down, wrapping around her wrist, stopping her movements.
It’s so easy to forget her age. Her inexperience.
“Was I doing something wrong?” she asks, her eyes glancing down to where she’s gripping me.
It takes literally all of my willpower not to thrust into her palm.
I lean my forehead against hers. “No, baby, I just need a minute, or I’ll fuck you on this table.”
She smirks. “And?”
My thumb traces down her cheek. “And you deserve more than that.”
She sighs. “I can decide what I deserve, Jackson.”
“I want to take my time with you.” I press my lips to hers and she pushes into me, her tongue licking along the seam of my mouth.
My heart revs and I sink back into her, my grip on her wrist growing lax.
A door slams in the distance and I jump back, my stomach shooting to my throat. Running my hand over my head, my heart rams against my ribs, praying like hell it isn’t her dad.
Blakely smiles and winks, righting her shirt and running her thumb along her bottom lip. She slides off the table, and at first glance, it looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world. But look a little closer and it’s easy to see the tensing of her shoulders and the stiffening of her jaw. The way her hands curl into fists at her sides.
She saunters away and I’m lost, staring after her, adjusting my hard-on and willing it away. My throat is parched, already dehydrated from the loss of her around me.
I start to follow but pause when I hear her voice cut through the air.
“Hey, Karen,” she chirps.
My heart stops, Karen watching us a few weeks ago flashing through my mind and nausea creeps through my gut, wondering if she’s suspicious.
“Miss Donahue, the phone was ringing off the hook and I was getting worried when you didn’t come back quickly.”
I watch from the shadows as Karen’s eyes scan the garage, pressing myself farther into the shelving to hide from her view.
“Karen, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Blakely?”
“As long as it takes for you to realize you’re wasting your breath,” she snaps back.
My stomach sours at Karen’s tone.
Has she always been so cold toward Blakely?
I rack my brain, trying to remember other times I’ve seen them interact but come up short. In fact, I don’t know that I’ve seen anyone in the building give Blakely so much as a smile. My chest twists, regret slicing through me at all the times I was a dick to her when what she really needed was a friend.
“I was dropping off the package for Jackson, just like you asked me to, Karen. What’s it look like I’m doing?” Blakely’s voice is sugary sweet, her head tilting with her question.
And that’s my cue.
Walking out into the open, I paste a grin on my face. Karen’s always been a sucker for the smile. “Hey, Kare-bear.”
Blakely and Karen both turn toward me.
I force myself to keep my gaze on Karen and lean against my toolbox. “How come you’ve been sending someone else to drop off my packages?” I pout.
Karen’s cheeks heat, the way they always do when I turn on the charm. My shoulders relax, anxiety loosening its hold around my stomach.
“There’s not enough hours in the day, I’m afraid.” She smiles but her eyes cut to Blakely. “I can’t be the one doing everything around here.”
I press a hand to my chest. “I thought I was your favorite part of the day.”
Karen huffs out a laugh and wags her finger. “Oh, no, Jax. You , I need to handle in small doses.”
I heave a sigh. “Well…I won’t lie and say I’m not wounded.”
Blakely rolls her eyes.
Karen’s smile grows. “This is exactly why. You’re incorrigible.”
“I think you mean lovable.” I wink.
“Well…that too.” She grins and turns toward Blakely. “Come on, Miss Donahue, let’s allow Jax to get back to work.”
Blakely straightens her spine and nods, moving to follow Karen into the main building.
My legs jerk, urging me to go after her, but I force myself to stay in place as I watch her walk away. But then she pauses, her hand wrapped around the edge of the door, and she turns back to me, mouthing, “Tonight?”
I grin, blowing out a breath of relief and jerking my head in a short nod.
Tonight .