Chapter 18 - Jackson #2
“If there’s any part of you that would still want to…” He winces and starts again. “After the semester’s over—”
“Yes.” It comes out so eagerly it makes him chuckle. I don’t care. I nod and say it again. “Yes. I want that.”
He smiles, a beautiful view in the glow of the moonlight, all relief and quiet happiness.
“Me too.”
Placing his hand on the side of my face again, he presses his lips to mine, slowly this time, as if he’s afraid to break the moment.
His thumb brushes over my cheek, tender and sweet, and I melt into the warmth of him all over again, into the soft press of his mouth and the faint taste of his breath.
When he finally pulls back, our foreheads rest together, the space between us filled with the kind of silence that feels like peace. I stay in it a little longer, not wanting to leave it. But I know I’ll have to.
I kiss him one last time, a quick peck, and then force myself to crawl back into the passenger seat.
“Are you going to be okay to drive?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
Driving, sure. How I’ll feel when I have to leave him, I don’t know yet.
“Where’s your car?”
I look out the windshield, just now realizing exactly where we are. I really was completely out of it earlier.
“The other side of the bridge, about a quarter mile back toward town.”
“I’ll give you a ride over there.”
The sadness at this night coming to an end starts to hit me, which is a little funny considering how it started. But as he puts the car in gear and drives over the bridge, I see his eyes flick to the side, the guilt and shame still lingering around the lines of his face.
It makes me feel guilty too because none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t come out here tonight.
I’ll let him keep believing I followed him.
Maybe I should tell him about the emails, but I can’t stand the thought of him thinking less of me because not only was I like everyone else who believed the rumors about him, I also chose to believe some stranger on the internet.
And I was gullible enough to potentially put myself in danger.
I’m actually probably lucky it was Isaac out here tonight and not someone else.
I still have no idea why those anonymous emails would send me out here, but I’ll worry about that when I can think a little clearer.
Or maybe I’ll just block the address and move on.
A quarter mile later, Isaac eases his car over onto the shoulder of the road in front of mine, his taillights bleeding red across the asphalt in the side mirror.
He comes to a stop and puts the car in park.
We both open our doors to get out, and cold air rushes in, slamming through the cabin.
I think I was wrapped up in all that warmth for so long that it doesn’t seep into my bones just yet.
The gravel crunches under my shoes as I get out, the sound startlingly loud in the dark. We meet at the front of his car, and he steps up close to take my face between his hands.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
All I can do is nod, struck a bit speechless at the way the glow of the moon highlights the gold in his eyes.
“It’s normal if this feeling lingers for longer than just tonight,” he says as his thumbs brush against my cheeks. “We may have to wait to be with each other openly, but if you need me, if the feeling doesn’t go away soon or it gets worse, will you please promise to let me know?”
Again, I nod, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that it’s serious enough to him to require words. “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
He rests his forehead against mine, and I think I’m starting to love the simple contact of it. He inhales deeply like he’s breathing me in.
“Fuck, I’m going to miss this.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
I really am going to miss it.
How the fuck am I supposed to go nearly two months without his touch now that I’ve had it? Now that I know the way his hands feel when they find me in the dark, the way his arms hold me like I’ll never feel cold again.
But I’ll survive the wait. I have to. Waiting is at least better than the alternative, than believing he doesn’t want it too.
He drops his hands to his sides, his fingers curling slightly like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me again. The moonlight catches his eyes just enough to show a faint glint of something intentional.
“Do you remember when I told you to use red as a safe word?”
“I remember,” I say, my pulse skipping from the memory.
“You might already know it’s related to BDSM, but if you don’t know much about it, do some research and see if exploring that kind of relationship dynamic is something you’d be open to.
It’s perfectly alright if it’s not, but if it is…
” The corner of his mouth curls in that slow, sinful smirk that does terrible things to my self-control.
“Just be prepared. I can be a bit of a sadist.”
I huff a quiet laugh and roll my eyes. “You don’t say.”
He chuckles under his breath, the sound low and warm, before he straightens, slipping back into that calm, measured authority as though none of this ever happened.
“Have a good night, Mr. Ellis,” he says, placing us back in the roles we’ll have to follow until we can be together again. “Drive safely.”
“You too, Professor.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. We stand there, caught between what we are and what we can’t have. Not yet. The night presses close, and the wind carries the faint echo of the river just past the trees.
It feels like a distant memory already.
He steps back, and we both get in our cars.
As I watch the night swallow his taillights, I find myself wishing I’d kissed him one more time.