15. Jackson
15
JACKSON
A ll of the tension in Ginger vanishes when I kiss her until she coils around me. God, I want to sink into her and never resurface. When I pull away, it’s not because I want to. The kiss is too short for my liking, but I keep her close.
I’m already imagining a slew of stolen moments in here with her. “Hey.”
Her blue eyes blaze up at me. I caress her cheek with my thumb, glad she doesn’t seem to regret what we did after the carnival. Especially when she bolted on me. We barely got to experience the afterglow.
My arms ached with the desire to hold her the entire weekend. I might be a bit too romantic, a bit too advanced for where the two of us currently stand, but I’ve also always known what I wanted.
And I want Ginger.
Her fingers graze my chin, her smile a small one. Intimate. Just for me. “Hey.”
Why did you run away? The question lingers on the tip of my tongue.
“You’ve been elusive all morning.” My fingers flex at the small of her back. I can’t seem to retreat from her. Not even an inch.
Her slender finger taps against my chest. “No. I haven’t. I’ve been here all morning.”
It’s not exactly what I mean. Ginger has been distant. Cool. Unruffled.
Not that I expected her to throw herself at me when she got to work. What I wanted first thing this morning was this.
She’s so warm against me, and I can’t seem to release her now that I’ve gotten my arms around her. I steal another kiss. Its soft touch lingers, rebuilding that tension that started the second she stepped into my office a month ago.
I should really let go of her.
But I keep her close, rubbing a hank of her red hair between my fingers. “I don’t want things to be weird. Awkward.”
“Given what’s happening in your pants right now, I have a feeling we won’t be able to avoid awkwardness as much as you think we will.” When she reaches down to cup my growing hard-on, I have to bite back a groan.
Desire has my cock raging now. If we were alone, I’d spread her across her desk and feast on her. Fuck, it’s one of the only things I’ve been able to think about over the course of the entire weekend.
“I can behave myself.” The gravel in my voice doesn’t help sell that point. Let’s be honest—I’ve been replaying Friday night over and over again, intermixed with newer scenarios, like her riding me in my office chair.
I almost grabbed a handful of myself this morning because the daydreams wouldn’t release me. Now that I have the chance, my hand reaches down to fill itself with her ass. I’ve been itching to touch her all morning. And I’m so fucking greedy for her.
The move tips her against me, smashing her breasts against my chest. I sink my other hand back in her hair and tease us both with the tension a mere inch of distance can create.
Ginger’s breath grows uneven, her fingers curling into my shoulders before she pops up to nab my bottom lip between her teeth.
My cock twitches in my pants as I grind my hips into hers.
Then her mouth drops to seal under my jaw by my ear. Every coherent thought vaporizes.
“ Fuck ,” I breathe out.
She’s being careful not to leave a mark, kissing and sucking gently. Her teeth are grazing instead of biting. But I want her to mark me. I want all of it when it comes to her.
My fingers tighten in her hair as her teeth scrape down my throat and pinch the sensitive curve of my neck. It pulls a low moan out of me. I’m two seconds away from planting her ass on her desk and burying myself between her thighs.
“It’s too bad you’re wearing a tie…” Ginger whispers against my damp skin. She toys with the knotted fabric. “I can’t reach that spot you really like.”
I suck in a slow breath. “You are so fucking tempting.”
She laughs softly and plants another few kisses on my skin. “Am I?”
I have to stop kneading her ass, stop rocking her against the steel rod in my slacks. A flash of light from a passing vehicle shines through the window and zaps some sense back into me, and I slide my palm up to her back again.
Leaning her back enough to look at her, I graze my thumb along her jaw. God, she’s beautiful. Her mouth is swollen from my mouth, from kissing the stubble along my throat. Her eyes are sparkling with desire and mischief. Ginger spreads her hands over my chest, smoothing out my tie.
“What are your plans for Christmas?” I ask, even though we’ve had this discussion more than once. She spends Christmas Eve with Gracie and her parents, and the day after Christmas morning lounging around and eating leftovers.
“You already know my plans.” Her voice is soft and sultry, caressing me in more intimate places than her hands can reach.
“What about the day after?” I get Emily on Christmas Eve, and we go to her mom’s for Christmas breakfast. But the rest of the day, I can already see myself sitting on the couch, pining over Ginger.
“That depends. Why?” Her fingers slip between the buttons of my shirt to touch my skin. It sends a shock all the way down to my toes.
“What if I want to see you?” My touch slides down her throat now as I slowly force myself to tuck away all the things I’m craving for later.
Ginger hums, drawing another little circle over my overheated skin. “I guess you’ll have to ask me when you decide that you do.”
Footsteps stomp up the stairs, and Ginger stiffens in my arms before she pulls away completely. It’s insane how much I miss her when she’s only a few feet away.