29. Kelley
29
KELLEY
F uck that was amazing.
Nestled into the crook of his arm, I can still smell the past few hours, hours spent wrapped in each other. I can still taste him on my tongue as I lay and wonder where the next steps take us.
The thing is, every time I cave and let Jackson fuck me, it’s so much more than lovemaking or screwing. He takes me on like a scholar, devours me like a subject, and doesn't let up until he comes out a master.
He truly fucks me.
When I think back on the look in his eyes, the way he held my gaze with a stare so intense, I could tell he was working on something more than just sex with me. He makes the thought of leaving here almost unbearable. I bite my tongue, hearing an unusually calm exhale coming from the man, who just a few minutes ago, made me quiver weakly with him inside me.
I don’t know where the next minutes, let alone days, will take me, but I’ll always remember this fuck.
The intimacy we just shared was unlike anything I've experienced before—primal yet emotional, passionate yet tender.
I study his sleeping face, peaceful in repose, and feel an ache in my chest. My mission, my principles, everything that seemed so clear-cut now wars with the burgeoning love growing inside me.
Carefully, I disentangle myself from Jackson's arms, holding my breath as he stirs slightly. I slip on his discarded shirt and make my way silently to the bathroom.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I take in my reflection—lips swollen from fierce kisses, hair disheveled. I turn on the faucet, letting the cold water shock my system.
I splash the icy liquid on my face, but it does little to dampen the fire Jackson has ignited within me. With drops of water clinging to my eyelashes, I admit the truth I've been avoiding—I'm falling for him, beyond logic or reason.
I grip the edges of the sink, steeling my resolve. I came here with a purpose, one I can't abandon. Jackson may have breached my body, but I won't relinquish control of my heart or mission so easily.
Straightening my spine, I walk back into the bedroom with renewed poise. I will play the part Jackson expects, bide my time, and see this through. My developing feelings notwithstanding, the story comes first.
I crawl back into bed and allow Jackson's arm to curl around me. Resting my head on his chest, I keep my eyes open, my mind working through the night.
Somewhere in the dark hours, an idea hits me. It requires bravery and a little sleight of hand.
I disentangle myself from his embrace with care, every movement deliberate to avoid waking him. I need to do what I came here for.
Slowly, I slip Jackson's phone from the pocket of his discarded pants, my hands trembling. The weight of what I'm about to do settles heavily on me. This small device could be the key to completing my mission.
My eyes linger on his muscular frame bathed in moonlight, taking in every rugged contour of the formidable man who somehow makes me feel delicate and desired. With his chiseled jaw relaxed in sleep, he seems almost boyish now - the hardened exterior momentarily softened.
Phone in hand, I creep through the dark mansion corridors. Shadows dance across the ornate walls, the world asleep aside from my quiet footsteps and racing thoughts. Guilt and exhilaration war within me, the weight of my risky purpose battling the thrill of the covert act.
Once secluded in my own room, I power on the phone, my fingertips hovering over the screen. This gateway could give me access to all the information I need to expose the underground racing empire.
I scroll through Jackson's messages, emails, files - anything that might reveal insider secrets. My throat tightens as glimpses into his world flash by. There's so much more to him than I realized, layers I haven't uncovered.
I pause on a photo of Jackson as a young boy, grinning and tousle-haired. My heart aches, seeing traces of the wounded child within the formidable man. I'm torn, my feelings for him warring with my purpose for being here.
With a deep breath, I open Jackson's email, knowing I need to find something incriminating. But all I see are mundane messages - auto part shipments, race logistics, club finances. No smoking gun, no scandalous expose.
Frustrated, I wipe away a lone tear that has fallen onto the screen. I went to the arena that day to complete a mission, one that now feels impossible. Because at some point, this stopped being just about a story. It became about him. And I can't betray him.
I sink to the floor beside the plush king bed, burying my face in the velvet blanket as I weep. Outside the panoramic windows, the moonlight dances across the mansion's sprawling grounds and gardens, unaware of the storm raging within me.
Somehow I find the strength to pull myself up onto the bed. Curling up in a ball, the dam holding back my tears finally breaks. Soul-wrenching sobs shake my body as I clutch a pillow to my chest. It's a feeble attempt to quell the aching void expanding within me.
In the stark quiet of this room, broken only by my soft cries, I'm forced to confront the truth. The truth that's been creeping up on me but I've been too scared to acknowledge.
I'm in love with Jackson. Irrevocably and completely in love with him.
There's no denying it anymore. No running from the depth and power of my feelings. I crossed a point of no return the moment I let him in. And now my heart is his, whether I want it to be or not.
I should despise him - the man who took me captive, who threatened my mission, who represents everything I stand against. But I don't. That man exists, but he's not all of who Jackson is.
I've seen glimpses of the wounded soul behind the bravado and control. The neglected child who grew up to hide his vulnerability behind wealth and dominance. A hint of the man who just needs to be loved, even if he'd never admit it.
I understand him in a way I never expected to. And he understands me. We've connected on a level I've shared with no one else. Two damaged people find solace together.
With him, I feel a passion that consumes me. But also laughter, joy, and a sense of belonging. Of being home. It terrifies me even as it exhilarates me.
I never imagined I could develop feelings for my captor. That's the stuff of stories, not real life. Yet here I am, crying into this pillow over a love I didn't ask for.
I don't know how to reconcile the man I love with the criminal empire he presides over. I came here with a purpose, but now that purpose pales in comparison to this connection we've forged.
Despite everything, I cherish the intimacy we've shared. The raw, authentic moments between us. I've seen beneath the surface with him. I know there's goodness in Jackson, buried but still alive.
But how can this work? He's still holding me here against my will, even if the nature of our relationship has changed. I have a life waiting for me back home. One I miss, even if it now feels like part of another world.
If I stay, am I betraying myself? If I go, am I losing the man I love after finally opening myself to him?
My sobs gradually fade to whimpers as exhaustion overtakes me. Curled around this pillow, clinging to it like a lifeline, I slip into a fitful sleep.
The morning will bring no answers. But in the silence of this room, I've finally admitted the truth to myself. A truth I can't hide from anymore.
I am in love with Jackson. Helplessly, terrifyingly in love. And I have no idea what comes next.