Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
TUCKER
Jackson smelled so good—like open air and the pasture and man.
He smelled like soft, warm dreams and early mornings with a cup of coffee and a future I knew I should be able to see, but I was blind.
Nighttime had gouged out my eyes long ago so I could only see my past and the false visions she provided me.
But I could hear the future Jackson offered me.
I could hear it in the gentle lilt of his voice as he quietly spoke to Goldie and Holland through the window of their stall door.
It was whispered in every longing look he’d sent me for the past two weeks, and it screamed in the ever-shortening but never closed distance between our hands on the dinner table every night.
His green-brown eyes spoke of tender kisses trailed along my shoulders as my alarm each morning, and long nights falling in love with every doe-eyed foal born inside these walls.
Those plush lips whispered without words about upholding my family legacy by my side, shouldering the burden together of maintaining everything being passed onto me, while building our own traditions.
His long fingers told me of gloomy days wiping away every tear I may cry over the man I still missed with every breath in my lungs, and of sunshine-filled ones where we’d walk hand and hand through the tall grass of the pastures.
And it was all too much. It was a vice around my heart in the worst way possible—claustrophobic and overwhelming to the point it was hard to breathe.
How could I ever give this gorgeous man the things he deserved when I was only half a person?
I couldn’t offer him my heart because it was a broken, shattered mess no one would want to hold onto.
It was black and blue and all jagged edges, and I knew if I tried handing it to him, the rivers of blood that would run between us would be too painful.
One of us would end up dropping it. Besides that, it wasn’t whole.
Parts of my heart would always belong to Raleigh, and how fair was that?
It wasn’t.
I knew it wasn’t. I was a fucked-up mess of a human, and I didn’t deserve the pure light Jackson Arness shone through my murky nights. He was young. He didn’t understand the consequences of tying himself to a sinking ship like me.
But fuck did I want it.
I wanted to live in the world Jackson could paint me with his bright smiles, drugging kisses, and warm personality.
He was the architect of his own future, and probably as some fucking joke from whatever power controlled this world, he thought he could redesign mine right along with his.
But I was a broken foundation to build upon, and I’d eventually take us both down.
Jackson would recover. He was beautiful.
He could have anyone he wanted. But I instinctually knew he’d leave one day because he was too smart to live in the fairy tale he crafted for us, and only one of us would make it out when the story fell away.
I’d barely survived the loss of Raleigh, but Jackson would be the bullet to end it all.
When he turned his head to grin at me with that stupid fucking dimple I loved to see, I realized if he was the one to pull the trigger, I would be happy for it. Because maybe I could come back as the demon to haunt his dreams at night, and that could be our ever-after.
God, I was so fucked up.
But I couldn’t deny the desperation that coursed through my veins for the radiance Jackson provided. Even if I knew I would taint it, I didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore.
My eyes roamed over every detail of his face, taking it all in like it would be the last time I’d get to see him this close—and who knew, it could be.
My wants and desires for the sandy blond country boy before me had teeth, and I knew they’d leave marks.
They’d tear through him if I let them, and I’d been struggling to keep them at bay.
But I was tired, worn down, and all I wanted was the easy comfort I knew this sunshine man would give me, despite the real repercussions he might face. Jackson must have felt the shift because he turned toward me, popping his hip against the door as he watched me back.
“What are you thinking about, Tucker?” His words were low, whispered seductions on the cold air.
“You,” I admitted honestly.
He made an appreciative humming noise, a sultry smirk taking over his carefree grin. “I like knowing I’m on your mind.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, because you’re on mine. All the time.”
Instead of responding, I raised my hand to cup his neck, letting my thumb rub along his smooth skin.
He was so soft. So different from me. My eyes lingered there, entranced by the flush that bloomed from my touch until I trailed them up to his face to find that mischievous gleam had fallen.
It was replaced by the flames of desire swelling in his eyes, and I knew they would be both my salvation and damnation.
I wanted to burn in those flames. Christened and charred to ash in the heat of Jackson’s hunger.
That sinful tongue poked out, drawing my attention down to those plump lips, and I watched as it drew a line along his lower one before slipping away. And I was done. I dove headfirst into the waters of my misery and ruin.
The descent to his mouth felt like a meteor crash—inevitable, disastrous, but a blazing path across a dark wasteland of sky.
The impact was soft like the welcomed embrace of coming home after being away for too long.
His lips sipped at mine, a gentle brush against each other, like we were both afraid of the burn when we ignited.
But I needed it. I needed the searing ache to remind me that this was a fleeting moment.
We could never be an us. We couldn’t be more than two bodies, seeking something the other person would never be able to provide.
Gently tugging at his belt loops, I pulled Jackson toward me, taking advantage of the momentum to deepen our kisses.
He grunted as his hard body hit mine, and I quickly wrapped one arm around his waist to anchor him there.
Little sparks of electricity went off inside me as he brought his hands up to cart his fingers through the short hairs at the base of my neck.
Each scrape of his blunt nails across my scalp had my dick plumping up, and a low moan escaped me.
Jackson swallowed it down with fevered abandon along with every other thready breath and hushed sound I made.
It was as if he were a starving man, and I was the feast laid out before him.
He was quickly consuming me as he took control of the kiss, and all I wanted was to be devoured whole.
Anticipation danced along my skin making goosebumps rise all over my flesh, so when Jackson’s fingers slid higher into my hair, knocking my hat off in the process, the sensations were electric and mind-numbing.
Heat pooled low in my belly as his tongue swept into my mouth, and if I were a better man, I would let myself fall into the pleasure this gorgeous man was offering. But that wasn’t our story.
I shifted to hold onto Jackson’s hips as the intensity of his kisses continued to rise, the ache and burn inside my chest swelling in response.
The move slotted him against me almost perfectly, and I felt the bulge of his erection through the thick denim of his pants.
Mindlessly, I rocked against him, dragging the outline of my own cock against his.
The simple friction was heady, but the pleased grunts and groans that rose from Jackson were what sent little frissons along my spine.
But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I wanted to feel something other than the all-consuming sorrow that weighed me down since that fateful day three years ago. Even if it was the shame of taking advantage of the comfort and pleasure another man was willingly offering me. Even if it hurts.
My lips brushed over soft skin as I laid kisses along Jackson’s jaw and down his neck, reveling at the way he tilted his head to give me better access, silently letting me take control.
The exposed column of his neck was gorgeous, and fire licked inside my veins at the visual he’d make with his head thrown back, cords taut as he lost himself in ecstasy.
My teeth nipped a path down, Jackson letting out an appreciative sound as he dug his fingers into my hips.
He thrust himself against me, urging and desperate in the same way I was.
I cupped my hand around his erection, a rumble of approval leaving my throat as I felt the girth of him.
The Jackson of my fantasies had a nondescript dick—not because I believed it to be the case, but because I never wanted to tempt myself with more.
But here he was, pleasantly surprising me again.
Kneading and rubbing at his cock through his jeans, I slowly began to lower myself down to my knees.
I’d just barely gotten onto one when a sharp sting radiated through my scalp, and I hissed through my teeth.
Jackson had threaded his fingers into my hair and tugged.
It hadn’t been aggressive, hardly more than a quick pull to get my attention, but it sent a surge of heat throughout my body all the same.
That’s it. Use me. Fuck me up. Leave me unrecognizable on the other side.
I stared up into those green-brown eyes, so foggy with lust but still appraising as he looked me over; begging, pleading with my own to give me what I needed.
But Jackson just pulled me back up by one of my arms, which would have needled at a soft part of me I hadn’t wanted touched if he hadn’t nipped at my lower lip and murmured, “Not out here. Don’t want anyone interrupting us. ”
And then he dove back in, kissing me with such ferocity that I was sure my lips would be bruised. It was perfect.