Chapter 14 #3
At that moment, Carly approached, her voice breaking through the moment like a splash of cold water. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said, her gaze flitting between me, Tibb, and Jackson.
Jackson’s response was a slow sip of the moonshine he had given me. “I’ve been right here,” he said, not looking at her, his attention now on the bonfire.
“Happy birthday,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she assessed me. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Your hair and… Are you wearing Jack’s sweater?”
“Yeah…” I said, suddenly feeling a pang of self-consciousness that she’d called me out in front of him. “He let me borrow it.” Turning to Jackson, I added, “I should probably give this back to you.”
“Keep it,” he said, adjusting it on my shoulder. His fingertips brushed my skin, sending a small jolt through me. “It looks better on you anyway.”
“You do look nice tonight,” Tibb said to me. He was a few drinks in, and his usual muted demeanor had given way to a relaxed one. He turned to Jackson and muttered a few words in Creole, prompting Jackson to look at me with renewed interest.
“Ugh!” Carly groaned. “I hate it when y’all do that.” She turned to me. “Don’t you hate when they do that?”
“Aww, Peanut. You look nice too. As always,” Tibb said, his tone playful.
Carly rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “If you need some clothes, I was about to donate a bunch to Goodwill. But you can have them. Consider them a birthday gift.”
I balled my hand into a tight fist to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I had a little money now. I didn’t need her hand-me-downs. “That’s kind of you,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Don’t mention it. A friend of Jack’s is a friend of mine.”
Jackson caught my eye and mouthed, “Thank you.” I shook my head, stifling a laugh as he chuckled quietly to himself.
Carly, obviously sick of the lack of attention, squeezed between Jackson and me, bumping me away as she did so. She pressed her chest against his as she looked up at him. “Do you want to take a walk?” she said, air in her words, soft.
Carly was marking her territory, and I didn’t blame her for wanting Jackson.
Anybody could see why. But I wish she knew I wasn’t a threat, that nothing could ever happen between us.
I also didn’t want to get in the way of whatever was unfinished between them.
I’d watched Mama and Daddy play such games, and it didn’t end well.
I understood all too well the dangerous consequences of getting in the way.
From the looks of it, Jackson didn’t want to play either, shifting his body away from Carly. But I still didn’t want to stick around to find out. Luke stopped playing, and a few claps and cheers rang out. “I want to go thank Luke and cut this cake.”
Before I could move, Jackson reached around Carly and grabbed my hand. It surprised all three of us. “I thought we were talking,” he said to me.
“I’ll let you take that walk with Carly.
” My tone was peaceful. More things than not about this night could be added to my growing list of likes.
“But thank you,” I said, stopping and staring deep into his eyes.
I wanted him to know it, to feel my sincerity.
“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had. ”
Jackson nodded, his face somber as I turned to Tibb. “Come with me?”
Tibb extended his arm, and I hooked mine through. We walked away and I didn’t look back.
Later that night, I didn’t remember waking up and leaving my cabin, my memory and vision shrouded in a haze, but there I was, walking through the field, my bare feet grazing the dewy grass, wearing Jackson’s sweater and nothing else.
I had worn it all night, not taking it off after Bonfire.
I liked the way it felt against my skin, liked that his scent still clung to the fabric.
This sweater was the closest I could get to him, so I slept in it.
But the chill of the late-December air whispered up my legs, a reminder that the world outside had grown too cold for such a flimsy shield.
And then he was there, Jackson, standing in the field as if summoned. I didn’t call out to him, my presence a magnetic pull, drawing him to me without the need for words. I lifted my head, my eyes peering up at him, and he was just as beautiful at night as in daylight.
“Leigh?” My name was a question on his tongue, like he didn’t know who I was. Of course he knew me. He had just seen me a few short hours ago, told me how nice I looked, told me I was light and understood the true wild woman within, and that thought sent an ache of arousal through me.
Without permission, I ran my hands up his chest, feeling his firm, taut muscles beneath his shirt, an intimacy that spoke more than words could.
I was dreaming, and I could do whatever I wanted in a dream.
There were no consequences. No hurdles. I had been waiting to do that, and the moment didn’t disappoint.
Jackson’s hands covered mine with a tender possessiveness.
“You’re freezing.” He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a tight cocoon.
Our bodies pressed together, one shaped to fit the other perfectly.
In his arms, I wasn’t cold anymore; the chill had vanished, replaced by the warmth of his body.
“I’m going to take you back to the cabin,” Jackson promised, lifting me with ease, one arm hooked under my knees, the other one secured around my back, his hold a steadfast anchor of safety. I would go anywhere with him.
Nestled against his chest, I surrendered to the comfort of his embrace, allowing myself to be enveloped by his warmth and the smell that was all his own.
That smell. It was the reason I still wore his sweater.
But now it was here with me, fresh, a gift directly from the source.
I inched closer, cradling my face deeper into his skin.
As he walked, the tip of my nose and lips lightly grazed the sensitive curve of his neck.
Jackson moaned, and I liked that sound from him, liked knowing I’d caused it.
I wanted to hear it again. I wanted to—needed to—get closer to him.
My lips brushed the skin of his neck, my bottom lip lingering, skimming, tracing an invisible path ever so slowly.
It was where the scent was the strongest, and the smell filled my nose, intoxicating me.
“Leigh…” Jackson whispered. It was not a word but a sound, air laced with pleasure.
I liked this too, the sound of my name on his lips.
This name. I wasn’t the girl in my waking life, but a new woman, this woman with a new name, made over.
The woman in this dream wasn’t afraid of feelings; a woman bold enough, free enough, to explore whatever she wanted. And I wanted him.
I kissed his neck, pressing my full lips deep into his skin, taking my time working up to his jawline, savoring each kiss slowly.
He tasted like he smelled—of lavender, of wood, of light.
Goosebumps rose on his skin as we approached the cabin.
His breath sawed in and out, hard, and not from the effort of carrying me.
My kisses were a thief to his breath and the creator of his moans, a sound that left a trail.
The door was already open—odd, but I felt no unease.
In Jackson’s arms, nothing and nobody would hurt me.
Jackson placed me on the bed and backed away, severing the connection.
I missed it instantly, missed his warmth, the feel of his body, the taste of his neck.
He stirred the fire in the woodstove and added a few more pieces of wood while I moved against the bed, squirming against the sheets, my body aching for him.
I rubbed my hands down my breasts and down to the space between my legs.
Jackson stood at the edge of the bed, watching me.
His sweater inched up my legs, and his eyes followed its movement, my hands.
I could barely make him out through the haze.
He was too far away. I wanted him closer, on top of me, inside me, the ache almost unbearable.
I extended a hand to him, and he took it, lying next to me.
I pounced on him before he knew it, before he’d even settled into the bed, kissing his neck again, my hands exploring everywhere, touching everywhere.
My hands moved down his body slowly, to the waistband of his pants, feeling his hardness bulging, pressing, begging to be released.
Jackson groaned, cursing under his breath, and grabbed my hands, one of his big enough to hold both of mine.
He whispered, “Let me hold you.” He was breathless, his voice calm and soothing.
And suddenly, I was tired, remembering how heavy my eyelids were, how my body stung with exhaustion.
I turned onto my side and tucked his hand across my body.
From behind, he held me tight, both arms locked around me, his body pressed against me, and the heat pulled me into the depths of sleep.
He nestled his head on my neck, his breath tickling.
The last thing I remembered was Jackson’s lips close to my ear.
“Rest,” he whispered, running his fingers through my hair. “I’ve got you now.”
I blinked, my eyes closed, and when I woke, he was gone.