Chapter Seventeen #2
Out of view from the bonfire, I started running, away from the laughter, away from the music.
The ground blurred beneath my feet, and my lungs burned.
I pushed past the main house, past my cabin, not stopping until I reached the water’s edge, where I had come to swim all those months ago.
I collapsed on a log, my chest heaving as thunder rumbled a warning, and a bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the world in white light.
I kicked off my shoes and dug my toes into the cool earth.
The dirt was soft, the grass slippery against my feet, grounding me in a way that nothing else could.
The air hummed with the energy of the impending storm, a charged, electric tension that pulsed through my skin.
I closed my eyes, breathing deep, and let the chill seep into my bones, numbing the chaos that twisted inside until I could hear the storm inside of me too.
Slowly, I forced myself to face it, let the rising wind and dark sky and storm stir within me, instead of running from it.
My thoughts wandered back to our dance, his eyes on me as we moved together.
That moment widened into others: nights spent in his arms, his safety surrounding me like a shelter.
A wave of realization surged within me, so powerful it almost knocked the breath from my chest. I wanted Jackson.
More than anything in the world, a desire that eclipsed anything I had ever experienced, one that surpassed physical attraction.
I wanted him. Not just him—every part of him.
His body, his mind, every piece he was willing to give.
It was a longing unlike anything I had ever known.
Looking back, it makes sense. We had been building to this slowly, piece by piece, ever since we met.
My mind felt lighter now, my heart steadier, after confronting the demons I’d kept hidden for so long.
With the curtain drawn back, the world blurred back into focus again.
I could see the entire forest now, not just the few trees I had been fixated on, not just the shadows that kept me trapped.
Life stretched wide before me, and I could finally see what had always been there, what and who stood in front of me.
For months he had been watering the dry places of me, tending to the parts I never let anyone see.
It was no wonder, then, that I would bloom for him.
The first raindrop fell. Then the rain came, a gentle patter that barely broke through the dense canopy above.
I stayed still, letting the few drops that reached me mix with the tears I couldn’t hold back anymore.
In the distance, the rumble of a truck cut through.
I knew it was him—Jackson coming to find me, check on me, as he always did.
The truck stopped, and its door opened and closed, followed by the crunch of footsteps on damp grass and underbrush. “Leigh,” Jackson called, his voice carrying over the sound of the rain. “Are you out here?”
I remained still, my back to him, the raw ache in my chest mingling with the chill of the night. If I looked at him now, I knew I would shatter.
The sound of his footsteps reached me before he did. I turned to face him with a small smile. Running had always been my reflex, my escape. You stop when you reach your destination, and I was there. And he stood in front of me.
We had talked so much, said all that needed to be said.
But there are some conversations you can’t have with words, only with your body.
I’ll never be quite sure what happened first, because it seemed to happen all at once: me stepping to him, me jumping into his arms, wrapping my legs around his hips, kissing him.
I do know that we received each other, an instant mutual recognition, the understanding that the time for words had passed. He pressed his lips against mine.
I had thought about kissing Jackson, and what I had imagined—what I had known in the hazy dream that had turned out to have not been a dream—was nothing like this.
He tasted like the night air, of earthy smoke, the sweetness of wildflowers, an intoxicating blend that made me spin.
Though I had kissed a few men, I sensed an undeniable difference in him.
He kissed like he lived—unrestrained, impassioned, and wholly open.
The kiss reached deep, slow, filled with yearning that seemed to stretch beyond the reach of time.
Each second lingered, every second stole my breath, and, for a moment, even paused the rain.
We kissed until I pulled away, breathless, dizzy, my mind spinning. This was a mistake. There would be no turning back from this. “We can’t.”
Jackson’s response was immediate and firm. “Yes, we fuckin’ can.” he said, pulling me back into his arms, his lips crashing into mine once more. Then the world disappeared as we lost ourselves in the kiss, the rain immediately forgotten and the night ours.
Jackson paused, the downpour around us a symphony of raindrops.
“Let’s get out of the rain.” It wasn’t a question but a command, and he was already moving, carrying me back to the truck.
The sudden separation of our lips left me yearning for more.
As we moved through the rain, I tugged at his shirt and pressed kisses to his neck, the warmth of my lips mixing with the rain.
I started trembling, tiny shivers, that was how good it felt, how much I wanted him, the need to feel his skin unbearable.
The distant thunder paled in comparison to the ache that had been building between my legs, its own storm of emotions that demanded more than the storm could ever provide.
With one hand, Jackson opened the door, holding me close with the other, as though afraid to let go even for a second.
He placed me inside, and I lay back against the seat, my heart pounding with anticipation.
I unbuttoned my jeans, tugging them down with a sense of urgency that mirrored the storm outside.
There was no question what I wanted, and Jackson’s gaze, fierce and hungry, reflected that he, too, was consumed by the same need.
In a single fluid motion, he yanked my jeans free, the force so hard that I scooted with them.
His eyes never left mine as he pulled down his suspenders, the sound of them slipping from his shoulders slick, and jerked off his shirt.
I lifted up on one elbow and watched him unbutton his pants, pulling them down as the thick hardness of him jutted proudly erect.
As the rain intensified, now falling in a relentless cascade, for a brief second, he stood there, a sculpture of male beauty, as the water slid down, like tiny tributaries, all over his dark, muscular body.
He slid into the truck, closing the door with a firm click that sealed us off from the world.
The storm’s fury raged unabated, the trees moved, but inside the truck our own tempest was just beginning to unfurl.
Once inside, he pulled me on top, and I straddled him, the hard length of him pressing between my legs.
We kissed again, all teeth and tongue, breath and air.
He held me tightly, his hand sliding up my rib cage and caressing my back before reaching for my shirt and tugging on it with both hands.
It ripped like paper. He moaned in appreciation at what he found, my bare breasts and firm nipples now in view.
His hands found my aching breast before his mouth did, my nipples peaking and pebbling, and I arched back against the steering wheel as he took them, one and then the next, into his mouth, and his finger slipped inside me.
I ground into him, moaning low and soft, feeling something building between my legs, an itch begging to be scratched.
“Jack…” I whispered. “I want you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please,” I said, moaning.
Jackson rolled me forward and reached back to slide himself inside me, thick and throbbing.
My body clenched around him as white-hot pleasure shot through me.
We paused, me to take in the length of him and him to take in the feel of me.
Jackson’s hands gripped my hips as we began to move, but it was me riding him, wild and hard, controlling the speed, searching deep, and soothing that need.
And Jackson allowed me to lead, burying his head in the curve of my neck and breasts.
“Fuck…Leigh,” Jackson moaned. “You feel so good.”
I could feel it again, a bottomless well of desire, and all I knew was I wanted to reach it.
I moved faster. A deep moan caught in the back of my throat, and his hands tightened around me, anchoring me from flying away.
Then I erupted, my entire body shaking. The edges of my vision blurred, and sounds vanished as throbbing pleasure, intense, rolled through me.
My release came hard and quick, an explosion, and I liquefied as my mind danced between reality and a dream.
Somewhere, through the mental fog, just before he found his own release, I heard Jackson encouraging me, talking me through the eye of my storm.
“Let it go. Feel it. Feel all of it.” And I did.
I felt every throb, every pulse. And it was amazing.
Exhaustion, pleasure, and embarrassment arrived at the same time.
Three different emotions that produced one outcome: tears.
“Shh…” Jackson said, rubbing my back and putting me back together.
“I know. I know,” he whispered. “That was so good. You felt so good. It’s okay.
It’s okay.” I collapsed my head against his shoulder, limp but oh so satisfied.
“Jack?” I whispered after a few seconds.
“Yeah?”
“I like this.”
His smile crackled in the dark before he said, “Me too.”