Chapter Seventeen
Avery’s mouth came to his, and for Jackson, the world tilted on its axis. The kiss consumed him. Burned right through him. And it made him only want more, more, more.
But more could be a big mistake.
He couldn’t help himself. His hand lifted, slowly, giving her every chance to step back. When she didn’t, he brushed his thumb across her cheek, sweeping away the dirt and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin was impossibly soft.
“Avery,” he breathed.
She surged forward and kissed him again.
Her mouth was on his, hungry and demanding, and Jackson forgot how to think.
His arms banded around her, pulling her against him despite the bulk of their vests, needing her closer.
She tasted so good, like a mix of birthday and Christmas all rolled into one, and when her fingers tangled in his hair, something inside him snapped.
He walked her backward until she hit the wall, swallowing her gasp. His hands found her waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt to touch bare skin. God, she was warm and real and right here.
When he finally tore his mouth away to breathe, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Tell me to stop,” he said, even though stopping might actually kill him.
“Don’t you dare.”
Heat flooded through him at her words, at the fire in her eyes. He kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring weeks of want and restraint into it. Her hands found his jacket zipper, yanking it down, and he shrugged out of it quickly before helping her with hers.
The Kevlar vests were next. They fumbled with the straps between kisses, and when the heavy weight finally fell away, Jackson groaned at the feeling of her body against his with one less barrier between them.
His hands mapped the curves of her waist, her ribs, memorizing every dip and plane through the thin fabric of her shirt. He wanted to touch every inch of her, wanted to make up for all the times he’d held himself back.
“Bedroom?” he managed, his voice rougher than he’d ever heard it.
“Yes.”
He laced his fingers through hers and still kissing, he led her down the hallway, his heart hammering. In the bedroom, the rain had painted everything gray, and when he turned to face her again, Avery looked almost otherworldly in that light.
Jackson cupped her face in both hands, needing to be sure. “You’re sure?”
“Are you sure?” she countered, and she glanced down at his leg.
“Trust me, an injury isn’t going to stop me.” And that was true. Hell, even if it hurt, being with her would be worth it.
Her answer was to pull him into a kiss that made his knees weak, her hands sliding under his shirt, nails scraping lightly against his abs. He groaned into her mouth, his control going south with every touch.
He found the hem of her shirt and slowly lifted it up and over her head, reverent despite the urgency thrumming through his veins. She did the same for him, and when her fingertips traced the scar on his ribs, he shivered.
They tumbled onto the bed together. Jackson settled his weight over her, careful not to crush her, and mapped the curve of her neck with his lips, tasting the salt of her skin. Her hands roamed his back, pulling him closer, and he’d never felt anything as perfect as this moment.
“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured against her collarbone, his fingers working the button of her jeans. “Wanted you. For so damn long.”
“Then have me,” she whispered, arching beneath him.
Jackson lifted his head to look at her—flushed and beautiful and choosing him—and something in his chest cracked wide open. He took his time after that, savoring every sigh, every touch, every whispered word. The rest of the world could wait. Right now, there was only Avery, finally his.
Her jeans joined his on the floor, followed by the rest of their clothes until there was nothing between them. Jackson paused, drinking her in. Every curve, every freckle, the trust shining in her eyes. She was stunning, and she was here with him.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her shoulder.
He reached for the nightstand drawer, fingers finding the foil packet he kept there.
The moment felt surreal, something he’d imagined too many times to count but never thought would actually happen again.
Avery watched him as he tore the wrapper and rolled on the condom, her gaze heated and tender at once.
When he returned to her, he kissed her slowly, deeply, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the press of his lips. His hands traced her sides, her hips, learning the landscape of her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he positioned himself above her.
“Avery,” he whispered against her mouth, giving her one last chance to change her mind.
She answered by kissing him, her legs parting to welcome him. Jackson pushed forward slowly, watching her face, feeling her body accept him inch by inch. The sensation stole his breath—the warmth, the tightness, the rightness of being joined with her.
A broken sound escaped his throat as he fully seated himself. He stilled, overwhelmed, forehead pressed to hers as they both adjusted to the intimacy of it.
“Okay?” he managed.
“Perfect,” she breathed, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Move. Please.”
He did, pulling back and thrusting forward in a slow, steady rhythm. Every stroke felt like coming home. Her soft sounds of pleasure, the way she moved with him, the heat of her skin against his—it was almost too much.
Jackson knew this wouldn’t last long. The tension had been building, and now that he finally had her, his control was hanging by a thread. He tried to slow down, to make it last, but Avery wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and rational thought scattered.
“God, Avery,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering. “I can’t—this is—”
“I know,” she gasped. “Me too.”
He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent as he moved faster. Her nails scraped down his back, and she tightened around him in a way that made stars burst behind his eyelids. The pleasure built and built, coiling tighter with each thrust.
When her breath hitched and her body tensed beneath him, Jackson knew she was close. He slipped a hand between them, wanting to bring her over the edge, needing to feel her fall apart.
“Jackson,” she cried out, and then she was shuddering around him, her body clenching in waves of release.
The sight of her, the sound of his name on her lips, the feel of her climax—it shattered him. Jackson thrust once, twice more, and then he was gone, tumbling over the edge into blinding pleasure. He groaned her name as he came, his whole body shaking with the force of it.
He collapsed beside her, gathering her close, both of them breathing hard. His heart thundered against his ribs, and he felt utterly undone.
Hours wouldn’t have been enough. A lifetime might not be enough.
Avery turned her face into his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. “That was…” She trailed off.
“Yeah,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her hair. “It was.”
And it was everything.