Chapter 11 #2
It’s a small relief that none of Jax’s crew knows his sister well enough to spill the beans. But what if someone says something offhand, and it gets back to her? How are we going to keep this from Alice?
“What can I do to help?” I offer, trying to change the focus to something other than me and Jackson kissing.
“Just chill. Kate gets grumpy if we get in her way while she’s grilling,” the other medic, Leo, says.
“She mans the grill?” There’s no masking the incredulity in my voice, and I realize my mistake as soon as I say the words. I’m a blundering mess.
Leo scoffs like I’ve said the funniest thing in the world, as I step to the counter and begin helping him chop vegetables.
“Three years, we’ve been partnered, and I can count the number of times I’ve grilled on one hand.
But really, it’s only because Kate doesn’t otherwise know how to cook to save her life, and I like something other than just meat for a meal. ”
“I heard that,” Kate calls through the open door as she transfers the burgers onto the sizzling grate.
Jackson hovers nearby, watching while Leo and I share the prepping of a salad and potatoes. I catch him glancing at me often enough I can tell something is up. I raise my eyebrows at him, wordlessly asking if he’s okay.
With a head tilt, he motions me toward the hall.
“I think this is good for now.” I hand off my prep work to Leo and follow Jackson into a long hall.
He takes my hand, practically dragging me behind him, walking so fast I have to double step to keep up.
He barrels through a door and into a small room with a twin bed.
A television takes up the top of a desk, and there are three lockers against the wall, one unit open, with familiar sneakers sitting on the floor in front of it.
“Is this your room?” I take a step toward his locker, intent on fully snooping through his stuff, but he grasps my wrist, spinning me into his warm chest, and then his mouth is on mine again. I sink into the illicit taste of my best friend.
Once again, he crowds me, pushing the door out of the way before backing me up against the wall.
His hands land on my waist, gripping hard enough that I’m sure I’m going to have bruises later.
And then he lifts me. My legs automatically wrap around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Holding me with his strong hips, he devours my mouth like kissing me is as essential as the very air he breathes. The slick slide of his tongue along mine is heady and forbidden.
Stealthy hands slip under my shirt and up to my ribcage, his thumbs tracing the bare skin under my bra, leaving me gasping. I want his hands on me.
“Shh,” he murmurs into my ear. “Is this okay, Mags? Tell me this is okay.” His whispered words fall on the shell of my ear, the yearning in his voice so unlike anything I’ve ever heard from Jackson. It cracks my resolve to keep my distance, shatters every line I’ve drawn between us.
I knew he’d be in that factory, right at the heart of danger.
And it scared the life out of me, knowing he could be taken from me.
The reality that his job is to put himself in life-threatening situations for the sake of others was driven home today in a way that left me hopelessly searching for any sign that he was okay.
His crewmates are right on the other side of the open door we hide behind. He can’t be mine. Yet I want nothing more than to taste him again. To feel him alive and well and mine.
“Yes,” I breathe, sliding my arms around his neck, cradling his head and pulling him back for another one of those drugging kisses. He rocks his hips against me, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I stifle a moan.
He breaks the kiss, his hot mouth tracing the line of my jaw, down the column of my throat. “I need to touch you,” he gasps.
“Please,” I beg. Though barely a sound, the word bounces off the bare walls, coming back with a force that slams into both of us.
He shifts his hands to my thighs and pulls back, lowering one leg and hitching the other higher around him. Heat gathers low in my belly as calloused fingers trail up the back of my thigh.
“Do you know how much I love Madonna day and this flirty little skirt you always wear?” he says, tracing the edge of my underwear. His head lowers to my bare shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the ridge, nipping the sensitive spot at the base of my neck.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning, unable to stop my hips from thrusting toward his fingers.
“Are you wet for me, Mags?”
His hand slides up my chest, between my breasts, to grip my throat. I’ve never been more thankful for an off-the-shoulder shirt in my life.
“I need a taste. Just once.” Greedy lips take my mouth, leaving me drugged and wanting and oh so needy. “Be a good girl and be quiet for me.”
And then he falls away, lowering to a knee, hitching my thigh over his shoulder. He drags my panties to the side, and then his hot mouth is on me. He swirls his tongue around my clit, laving it through my folds, thrusting into me.
My breath catches as my hands fall to his hair. I can’t move, can’t make a sound, when all I want to do is call out his name. I grind myself against his mouth, gripping his hair as tension curls low in my belly and an instant orgasm threatens.
Maybe it’s the threat of discovery.
Maybe it’s just Jackson and his talented tongue.
My body clenches, and he pulls away. Rising swiftly, he takes my mouth, thrusting his tongue inside, licking and tasting me, swallowing my moan as he sinks his fingers into me.
Silently, I shatter, clinging to him like my life depends on it. We’ve crossed a line. Willingly. Wholeheartedly. Completely obliterated any semblance of keeping this thing between us platonic. It was stupid to even try.
Jackson lowers my leg as we pant against each other, trying to catch our breath. Down the hall, there’s a knock and a throat clearing.
“Yo, Jackson. Heads up. Mac’s pulling up.”
Oh my god, that was Cal’s voice. And he knows I’m in here with Jackson, and he probably assumes we are not playing cards.
“Oh shit,” I whisper against Jackson’s lips. “What do we do?”
Jackson presses his lips to mine like he can’t be bothered by something so pesky as his boss, and mutters, “We do the adult thing and sneak you out of here. Try to act like I didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life, and it’ll be fine.”
I shove, hard, against his chest, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself. That was?—”
“The best you ever had?” he says with a satisfied smirk, one perfectly sculpted brow raised like he knows about every last one of my sexual exploits.
“Adequate,” I shoot back at him.
Instead of being a rational, panic-filled adult and stepping away so we can sneak out as he’s suggested, he presses his hips into me, pinning me to the wall behind his open door with his rock-hard dick.
“Challenge accepted.”