Chapter 19 #2
I touched Jackson’s face and whispered, “Maybe you should go see what he wants.”
“Leigh,” Jackson said, pulling off my pants, “I get on my knees for three things: to pray”—he held my waist and pulled me closer to him—“to plant”—he kissed my inner thigh—“and to pleasure, and I don’t get up until I’m done.”
Luke knocked again and Jackson growled. “No. Whatever it is, it can wait.”
The footsteps hurried off the porch. A few minutes later, they returned, followed by the clearing of a throat.
But I could barely make out the sound: Jackson had spread me apart, exploring the depths of me.
I licked my lips and twisted my hips, coaxing him further.
My back arched, and inch by inch, I lost control, floating above the sounds, lost in pleasure, moving to the rhythm of his tongue as Jackson licked and sucked the heart of me.
“Jackie,” Tibb called out, followed by a string of Creole words, just as I grabbed Jackson’s head and cried out his name when I reached my climax, a series of whimpers and moans.
Normally, Jackson liked to watch or stretch out my orgasm as long as he could, but whatever Tibb said shifted Jackson’s demeanor, and he rolled off the bed, reaching for his shirt with a sense of urgency.
“Stay here,” he instructed, his voice laced with a warning I couldn’t quite decipher.
Before I could ask what was wrong, the door closed behind him with a thud.
I cleaned up and folded clothes in an attempt to distract myself from the pleasure still rolling through me and the anxiety that had settled in my chest. I thought maybe something had happened with Luke or even Tibb, but they had both been here.
I knew at least that they were safe. An hour later, Jackson returned.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
“Carly,” Jackson said as he shed his boots with a weary sigh, the creak of the leather loud.
“What about her? Did something happen?”
Jackson didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear and whispered. “At the end of this week…go somewhere with me.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change of subject. “Where?”
“West Blocton.”
“What’s in West Blocton?”
“A surprise.”
“You know I don’t really like surprises,” I said.
“Trust me,” he said, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, “you’ll like this one.”
“Should we be leaving at such an important time? The grand opening is a few weeks away.”
“Tibb and Luke can manage,” he assured me with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’ll be just for one day.”
The prospect of being with him, wherever that might be, excited me.
So I said yes, the word escaping my lips as if my body had already decided.
A familiar weightlessness swept over me, like stepping into the unknown with a grin.
I surrendered to this feeling, this spontaneous rush, but it now felt sharper, as if something was slipping through my fingers and I couldn’t help but grasp it.
“Are you going to tell what happened with Carly?”
“She knows,” he said with a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the world.
“Knows what?”
“About us,” Jackson said as he began to undress, his shirt muffling his words.
“And?”
“And nothing.” Jackson fell back onto the bed, propping a pillow behind his head.
“So…” I tried to puzzle it out. “The guys came here to warn you?”
“She was looking for me.”
I was silent, asking for more information with my eyes but not sure what, exactly. I hadn’t stolen Jackson from anyone.
“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Jackson said, grabbing me from behind and pulling me down onto the bed. He rolled on top of me and lifted my shirt, kissing my breast. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”
I grabbed his head, forcing him to look at me. “I want to talk about it.”
He growled into a pillow, the sound muffled and filled with frustration.
“She still loves you.” The words tasted bitter as they left my lips.
“Nah…she wants what we had.”
I considered this for a moment. Carly didn’t make that distinction. Or didn’t want to. And she wasn’t the type to accept a revelation that hadn’t involved her without a fight.
“I made it clear to her before you got here that it was over between us. Now she knows about us.”
I picked at the quilt, my fingers restless. Jackson noticed and furrowed his brow. “What?” he asked.
“Did something happen recently between the two of you? In the months before us?”
He thought for a second. A memory clearly crossed his mind.
“We did kiss.” He held my hands as I blanched, and his soft eyes urged me to listen.
“It was your birthday and the first bonfire. You were wearing my sweater and had your hair down. You looked so beautiful. Then, you hugged me.” He sighed.
“I was so turned on. I wanted to kiss you. Remember that Carly dragged me on a walk? Well, she kissed me, and for a second, all I saw was you. But then I stopped because I knew it wasn’t her that I wanted. ”
“You wanted to kiss me that night?” I asked, my heart racing. “All the way back then?”
He rolled over on top of me again, showering kisses on my neck and shoulders before sliding his entire body down. “No,” he whispered. “I wanted to do this.” He licked the underside of my breast, kissing the curve. “And this.” He pressed his hands inside my thighs, widening them.
Passion pinned me to the bed, but I gained enough control to giggle, “Jack…again?”
He lifted the heels of my feet on his shoulders. “And this.” He kissed the space between my legs, and his words were lost, drowned out by my moans.
The next morning, after Jackson left, I stayed in bed.
The room was quiet except for the push of the wind against the window.
Naked and lost in the aftermath of pleasure, I lay in a trance, feeling the aftereffects of our lovemaking seep into my soul.
My body buzzed with the memory of sensation.
Aches from last night and this morning mingling with unexpected joy created an experience that only the body could offer.
A knock at the door disturbed me from my daydream.
I glanced at the clock, its numbers blurred by my sleepy gaze.
I smiled, a subtle curve of my lips as I imagined Jackson’s quick return.
Wrapping myself in his quilt, which barely covered my naked body, I crossed the room, the soft fabric rustling against my skin.
Yet when I opened the door, the familiar face I’d expected was replaced by Carly’s.
With our new sleeping arrangements, we were a real couple.
It was the little details, a pair of toothbrushes side by side, the faint scent of Jackson on the sheets lingering with my own—that made it real.
Carly barely met my gaze before her eyes swept over the cabin’s interior, taking in evidence of Jackson’s presence—his boots by the bed, his jacket on the rack.
Her attention flickered to the quilt, then back up to me.
Her composure faltered, but she quickly corrected.
“I’d like to talk to you,” she said, her tone even. “Put some clothes on and come outside.”
I dropped the quilt onto the bed and dressed in a hurry, slipping on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Carly paced the front porch when I opened the door.
“How did you get that quilt?” she asked abruptly.
“What?”
“The quilt you were wrapped in. How did you get it?”
“Jack gave it to me.”
“Jack?” Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Yes, Jack.”
“Oh…he’s Jack now.” Her lips curled into a frown.
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Why are you here?” It felt strange to talk to her with Jackson’s fingerprints still on my body, his scent still on my skin.
“He gave you that quilt?”
“He didn’t give it to me; he’s letting me use it. Why? What is this all about?”
Finally, she sank into a chair and stared off into the distance, her posture tense. “His grandmother made that quilt. It’s his marriage quilt.”
Shock coursed through me like an electric current, leaving me paralyzed and speechless. Jackson had told me it was his favorite, but he hadn’t mentioned the significance. “It doesn’t mean anything,” I stuttered. “It was cold in here and—”
Carly cut me off, shaking her head, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“You don’t know anything. It does mean something.
He loves that quilt. It’s his favorite. The one he holds closest to his heart.
” She fixed me with a piercing look, and tears puddled in her eyes.
“Jack and I were together for six years. He barely let me look at that quilt, and he gives it to you. You’re sleeping on it.
With him,” Carly said, her tone softening as a tear escaped down her cheek.
“I’m not going to talk to you about Jack. What we do is none of your business.”
Carly, undeterred, pressed on as if she hadn’t heard me.
“He hasn’t come to me since you showed up.
He did that, you know? He would show up at the house and fuck me, and I would pretend it was real.
That he still loved me. You can convince yourself of anything, you know.
If you try hard enough.” A humorless laugh escaped her.
“He has a healthy appetite, if you know what I mean. If he’s not getting it from me, I knew he was getting it from somewhere.
I almost didn’t care. I thought he would have his fun with you and come back to me when he was done.
But he’s in love with you.” She wiped her face with a swift, almost mechanical motion.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Carly’s voice rose over mine. “He is. You don’t have to deny it. I’ve known Jack most of my life.”
“Why are you here?”