Chapter 6 - Sarah
He lays me on the bed with a gentleness that contrasts with the hunger in his eyes. Moonlight spills through curtained windows, silvering his shoulders as he moves above me. Seven years melts away like snow in spring.
"I've dreamed about this," I whisper as his hands trace my sides. "About us."
His smile is tender, almost reverent. "Me too. Every night."
When he kisses me again, it's with a patience that wasn't there before. As if now that he has me beneath him, he wants to savor every second. His lips travel slowly from my mouth to my jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.
I shiver, arching against him. "Jackson..."
"Shh," he murmurs against my skin. "Let me take care of you."
His hands are calloused from years of ranch work, but they move with surprising delicacy as they slip behind me to unfasten my bra. When the fabric falls away, his half-lidded eyes stare at me.
"Perfect," he whispers, lowering his head to press a kiss to the curve of my breast. "Even more beautiful than I remembered."
I should feel self-conscious—my body bears the marks of seven more years of living—but the genuine awe in his expression banishes any insecurity. To him, I am beautiful. I always was.
His mouth continues its journey downward, leaving a trail of heat across my stomach. My fingers tangle in his hair as he reaches the edge of my underwear.
"May I?" he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband.
The formality of the question makes me smile even as desire coils tighter within me. "Always the gentleman."
"Only with you," he replies, his voice rough with want.
I lift my hips in answer, and he slides the last barrier down my legs. For a moment, he just looks at me, and I see seven years of longing in his eyes.
"I've missed you," he says simply, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. "Every part of you."
His hands gently part my legs, and then his mouth is on me, warm and sure. I gasp, my back arching off the mattress. He remembers exactly how to touch me, as if he's carried a map of my pleasure in his memory all these years.
"Jackson," I breathe, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other gripping the sheets beneath me.
His tongue traces patterns that make me tremble, building a rhythm that has my thighs tensing around his shoulders.
Time dissolves into sensation—the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his hands holding my hips, the rasp of stubble against sensitive skin. My world narrows to this moment, this man, this pleasure building like a wave.
"I'm close," I warn him, though I know he can tell from the way my body responds to him.
He doesn't pull away—just increases his focus until I shatter beneath him, his name a prayer on my lips as pleasure crashes through me. He stays with me through each aftershock, gentle now, easing me down from the height.
When I can breathe again, I tug at his shoulders. "Come here."
He moves up my body, his expression both satisfied and desperate with his own need. I pull him down for a kiss, tasting myself on his lips.
"I love you," he whispers against my mouth. "Never stopped. Not for a single day."
"Show me," I reply, wrapping my legs around his hips. "Show me how much."
He rises to his knees, unbuckling his belt with steady hands, the moonlight gleaming off his broad shoulders. The soft clink of metal as he tosses it aside is followed by the rustle of fabric as he removes his pants and underwear in one smooth motion.
Jackson Covington has always been an impressive man, and time has only enhanced his strength. I run my hands over his chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart beneath my palm. When my fingers trace lower, he catches my wrist, bringing it to his lips.
"Not yet," he says, voice strained. "It's been too long. I want this to last."
He positions himself between my thighs, one hand guiding himself to my entrance. Our eyes lock as he pushes slowly inside, both of us gasping at the sensation of being joined after so many years apart.
"Sarah," he breathes, his forehead dropping to mine once he's fully seated. "God, you feel... you feel as good as ever. Better."
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him close as we both adjust to the overwhelming intimacy.
"Move, Jackson. Please."
He begins to rock into me with measured strokes, his control evident in the tension of his muscles beneath my fingertips. His lips find my neck, trailing hot kisses along my pulse point as his hips maintain their steady rhythm.
I arch beneath him, my body remembering this dance like we'd never been apart. The familiar weight of him, the scent of his skin, the way he angles his hips to hit exactly the right spot—it's like coming home to a place I feared I'd never see again.
"I missed this," I gasp as he drives deeper. "Missed you."
His only response is to capture my mouth with a passionate kiss, his pace increasing as our bodies demand more. I wrap my legs tighter around him, meeting each thrust with one of my own, my fingers digging into the solid muscle of his back.
"Look at me," he commands softly, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze.
When I do, his eyes burn into mine with an intensity that makes me tremble. He shifts his angle slightly, driving deeper, reaching places inside me that make stars burst behind my eyelids. Each powerful thrust feels like a promise – that he's here, that he's mine, that we won't lose each other again.
The sheets tangle beneath us as I grasp them with one hand, needing something to anchor me as pleasure builds again. Jackson's breathing grows ragged, his control slipping with each passing moment.
"Wait," I whisper against his lips. "I want to change positions."
He stills immediately, concern crossing his features. "Everything okay?"
I smile, pushing gently at his shoulder. "Perfect. But I want to ride you. I've missed looking at you from above... seeing you fall apart beneath me."
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by a flash of heat that makes adrenaline rush through me. Without a word, he rolls onto his back, bringing me with him.
I brace my hands on his chest, adjusting to the new angle as I straddle him. Like this, I can see all of him—the powerful body tensed with pleasure, the vulnerable longing in his eyes, the absolute surrender in his expression as he gazes up at me.
"You're beautiful," I tell him, slowly beginning to move. "The most beautiful man I've ever known."
His hands find my hips, guiding but not controlling as I set a rhythm that has us both gasping. I watch him unravel beneath me—the way his head presses back into the pillow, how his eyes darken to nearly black, the flush that spreads across his chest.
"Sarah," he groans, his fingers tightening on my hips. "I'm not going to last much longer."
I lean down, pressing my forehead to his, our breath mingling as I move faster.
"Then don't hold back. Not with me. Not ever again."
His control finally breaks. With a low groan that sounds almost like pain, he thrusts up to meet me, his release triggering my own. I collapse against his chest as waves of pleasure wash through us both, our hearts racing together.
When I can finally speak again, I press a kiss to his jaw, tasting the salt of his skin. "Definitely worth the wait."
His arms tighten around me, keeping me close against him.
"Seven years," he murmurs into my hair. "Never again, Sarah. I promise."
I rest my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow. Our bodies remain connected, neither of us ready to separate yet. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, and I feel more content than I have in years.
"What are you thinking?" he asks after a while, his voice a low rumble beneath my ear.
I smile, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "That this feels right. Being with you again."
"It does." His arms tighten around me. "Like everything finally clicked back into place."
I shift slightly to look at him, propping my chin on his chest. "But things are different now. We're different."
Jackson brushes a strand of hair from my face, his expression thoughtful. "I know. You've built something important here. The therapy center, your career."
"And you have the ranch," I add. "Your family."
"So where does that leave us?" he asks.
This is a side of Jackson Covington few people ever see—the uncertainty beneath the capable exterior.
I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertip. "It leaves us figuring it out together this time. No ultimatums. No all-or-nothing choices."
He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "What about the center? I don't want to distract you from getting it off the ground."
"You won't," I assure him. "If anything, having you in my corner makes me stronger." I smile. "Besides, the Covington name carries weight around here. It will help with whatever I might need."
He chuckles. "Happy to throw my name and money at anything that makes you smile like that."
"And the ranch?" I ask, more hesitantly. "I know how much it means to you."
Jackson is quiet for a moment, his hand still stroking my back. "The ranch is my heritage. My responsibility. But I've been thinking a lot lately about what that really means." He meets my eyes. "My brothers are finding their own paths. Maybe it's time I figured out how to balance duty with what I want for myself."
"And what do you want, Jackson?"
His expression softens. "You. Us. A future together that doesn't mean either of us giving up important parts of ourselves."
My heart swells at his words. "The Miller place is only fifteen minutes from your ranch," I point out. "Not exactly a long-distance relationship."
"True." A smile tugs at his lips. "And I hear the owner might be looking for volunteers with horse experience."
"Is that so?" I laugh softly. "I suppose I could find a use for a ruggedly handsome cowboy around the place."
His expression turns more serious. "What about Cole? He's pretty protective of you."
I sigh, thinking of my best friend who's stood by me through everything.
"He'll come around. Once he sees we're serious. That this isn't just..."
"A romp for old times' sake?" Jackson raises an eyebrow. "I think I've made it clear I'm in this for keeps, Sarah."
"So am I," I whisper, emotion tightening my throat. "But Cole might need convincing."
Jackson's thumb brushes my cheek gently. "Let me worry about my brother. He just wants you to be happy."
"And you make me happy," I say simply.
"Even when I'm stubborn? Set in my ways? Bad at talking about feelings?"
I laugh, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Especially then. Those are the parts that make you who you are."
He rolls us suddenly, pinning me beneath him with a playful growl. "I think I might be getting better at the feelings part."
"Mmm, definitely," I agree, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Very impressive progress."
His smile fades into something more tender as he studies my face in the moonlight.
"I love you, Sarah Matthews. I should have followed you to Seattle seven years ago. I should have told you every day how much you meant to me." He touches his forehead to mine. "I can't change the past, but I promise you I won't waste our future."
Tears prick at my eyes, but they're tears of joy, not sadness. "I love you too, Jackson. I always have."
He kisses me then, slow and deep and full of promise. When we part, I can't help but laugh softly.
"What?" he asks, smiling at the sound.
"It's just... who would have thought? Sarah Matthews and Jackson Covington, getting a second chance after all this time."
"I would," he says with surprising conviction. "Some things are just meant to be, no matter how long they take."
As he gathers me close against his chest, I know he's right. Seven years apart taught us both what matters most—and it isn't pride, or place, or even dreams. It's this. Us. The love we've finally found our way back to.
Tomorrow will bring challenges—telling his brothers, balancing our separate lives, figuring out exactly how we fit together now. But tonight, in the safety of each other's arms, the future looks brighter than it has in years.
For this moment, at least, that's more than enough.