15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
AVA
T he house is dark when we pull into the driveway, the porch light Jackson left on flickering softly. The engine clicks off, and for a moment, neither of us moves.
Then he turns to me, eyes catching mine in the dark. “You were a hit.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “They were really kind. Russo’s wife is hilarious. And Elena, I could’ve talked to her for hours.”
“Ready to head in?”
Inside, the house is still. Peaceful. A subtle shift from the energy of the dinner. I slip off my heels near the entryway, toes curling gratefully into the soft rug. Jackson sets his keys in the bowl by the door, then shrugs out of his coat. I follow suit, draping mine over the banister.
“Miss Taylor said the boys were out cold by eight,” he says, his voice just above a whisper as he heads towards the kitchen.
I smile, but it’s faint, distracted. I’m still thinking about the way his hand hovered at the small of my back at dinner, like it belonged there. About how it felt when Elena leaned in and whispered, “You two are adorable.”
I follow, the soft tap of my bare feet against the floor the only sound. He heads straight to the counter, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water like it’s second nature. I watch the way his shoulders shift beneath his dress shirt as he moves. Broad, solid, strong. Unshakable.
He hands me a glass, his fingers brushing mine, sending goosebumps over my skin. He leans against the counter, watching me with an intensity that thickens the air.
I hesitate by the island, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. “Thanks for inviting me tonight,” I say.
“I liked having you there tonight,” he murmurs.
There’s something in his voice that wraps around me. Something steady, grounding. I nod, feeling warm despite the cool tile under my feet.
I take a sip of water, trying to cool the sudden heat in my chest as I recalled him introducing me as his girlfriend tonight.
I hesitate, the word girlfriend echoing in my mind since Jackson introduced me to the team.
When I glance up at him and his piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, I forget what I was about to say.
For a few moments, we just look at each other.
I should probably say goodnight and head upstairs, but my feet don’t move.
Jackson pushes off the counter slowly, crossing the kitchen until he’s only a step away. Not touching. Just close enough that I feel his presence like a current in the air.
He’s right there, barely a breath away, and my heart thrums a little faster.
Neither of us speaks, and I’m not sure who moves first.
Maybe it’s him.
Maybe it’s me.
His fingers brush my jaw, hesitant, but I don’t pull away. I lean in, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. His eyes search mine, and I nod before I even realize I’m doing it.
Then he kisses me.
His hand slides into my hair, anchoring me. My fingers grip the front of his shirt, my body responding before my mind does.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing harder than we should be. His forehead resting against mine.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asks.
I could say no. I could retreat to the guest room and pretend the past few hours haven’t unraveled every line I thought I drew between us.
But I don’t want to.
“Yes,” I say, and my voice doesn’t even shake.
Jackson's hand is warm and sure as he leads me upstairs to his bedroom.
“Ava,” he murmurs, a low rumble that sends a jolt of heat straight to my core. I step closer, feeling the undeniable hardness of him, my body aching with want.
He moans, a deep sound that vibrates through me, and his mouth crashes down on mine. The kiss is hungry, desperate, his tongue demanding.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, my fingers digging into his skin. He breaks the kiss, trailing open-mouthed kisses down my neck.
His hands move to the back of my dress, unzipping it slowly, his fingers brushing against my skin with each movement. I shiver, arching into his touch, and he pauses, his eyes darkening with desire.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice rough, and I flush under his gaze.
He slides my dress off, leaving me in just my bra. His hands move to the clasp, unhooking it easily, and I hold my breath as he slides the straps down, baring me to him.
His eyes flicker over my breasts, and I feel exposed but not vulnerable. Not with him. He leans in, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing.
I gasp, my head falling back, my hands tangling in his hair. I’m trembling, anticipation coiling low in my core.
“Come here,” he says, his voice hoarse, and I step closer, my hands going to his shirt, quickly unbuttoning it and tossing it aside.
His chest is broad, muscles firm and defined, and I run my hands over him, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength of him. He inhales sharply as I trace the lines of his abs.
He kisses me again, his hands moving to my panties, sliding them down my legs. As I step out of them, his gaze is intense, possessive. “I want you so bad,” he murmurs.
He pushes me toward the bed, then he undoes his belt, unzips his pants, and pushes them down his legs. He’s hard, thick, and I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
He joins me on the bed, kneeling between my legs, his hands on my thighs, spreading them wider. I’m exposed, open to him, and he leans down, kissing the inside of my thigh. I squirm, wanting more, but he doesn’t make me wait long.
His mouth finds me, his tongue pressing against my clit, firm and deliberate. I cry out, my hands gripping the sheets, my body arching off the bed. He eats me like he’s starving, his tongue relentless. His fingers slide inside me, stretching me, filling me.
I’m close, and I tell him, my voice shaky, desperate. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I plead, and he growls, a sound that vibrates through me, spurring me on.
I come apart under his mouth, my body shaking, my cries echoing in the room. He doesn’t stop, riding out every last shudder. When he finally lifts his head, I’m boneless, breathless, and he smiles, a satisfied, wicked smile.
He leans over me to kiss me deeply, his hands roaming over my body, heat building between us again. He shifts above me, pressing closer, and I feel him hard and ready against my thigh.
Then he freezes slightly, his forehead pressing to mine, breath catching.
“Shit,” he mutters, his voice low and frustrated. “I don’t have any condoms.”
I swallow hard, my breath unsteady, my fingers still clutching his shoulders. “It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling but certain. “I have an IUD.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod, pulling him closer. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”
A growl rumbles low in his chest as he captures my mouth again, his kiss even more urgent, more consuming. He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine, and as he pushes inside, slow and deliberate, a broken gasp escapes me.
He thrusts into me, slow and steady, filling me completely, and my breath stutters, my nails digging into his shoulders. He’s thick, and I adjust to him, my body welcoming him.
He pulls back, then pushes in again, setting a rhythm, his movements deliberate, controlled. I meet him thrust for thrust, my hips rising to meet his, our bodies moving in perfect sync.
The room is filled with the sounds of our labored breathing and the creak of the bed. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he drives into me, his pace quickening. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he moans, his head falling back, his thrusts becoming frantic.
“Ava,” he rasps, his voice raw, and I’m right there with him, my second orgasm building, then crashing over me like a wave.
I cry out, my body convulsing, and he follows, his release hot and intense, my name a ragged whisper on his lips. He collapses on top of me, his weight heavy but comforting, his heart pounding against mine. We lie there, breathless, our bodies still joined, the world outside fading away.
Slowly, he rolls to his side, taking me with him, his arm wrapping around my waist, his hand resting on my hip.
I snuggle into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling safe, sated.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, and I close my eyes, a sleepy contentment settling over me.
He kisses the top of my head, his touch gentle, and I let the warmth of him pull me into sleep.
When I wake, the sheets are tangled, my legs bare, the light soft through the curtains. For a second, I forget where I am until I catch the faint, familiar scent of him: cedar and soap clinging to the sheets. My heart stutters as last night floods back in vivid color.
I turn toward the other side of the bed.
Empty.
I sit up slowly, a pit forming in my stomach. The clock on the nightstand reads just past seven. At dinner, someone joked about being able to stay out late since practice wasn’t until noon the next day.
So where is he?
I glance toward the bathroom, but it’s quiet and dark.
My phone buzzes on the dresser. I slide out of bed, wrapping the blanket around me, and reach for it.
My heart jumps when I see it’s from Jackson, then it dips just as fast when I read the message.
Hey. Didn’t want to wake you. Heading to the rink to get some solo work in before practice. See you later.
That’s it.
No smiley face. No heart. No “ last night was amazing” or “ can’t wait to see you after.”
Just… see you later.
I read it twice, confusion settling in. Solo work?
My chest tightens, a hollow kind of pressure settling in my ribs. I know I’m not owed anything. Not after one night, not when we’re technically pretending for the world, but this didn’t feel like pretending.
Not to me.
And last night… it didn’t seem fake for him either. Not when he looked at me like that. Not when he touched me like he meant it.
So why does this morning feel like I imagined the whole thing?
I set the phone down, blinking against a sudden sting in my eyes. Maybe he just needs space. Maybe he’s overthinking things. I don’t know.
I gather my clothes from the floor and slip into the bathroom, fingers trembling as I twist my hair up and splash cold water on my face.
I’m not going to spiral. Not yet.
But something is off.
And I don’t know if it’s him pulling away… or me expecting too much.