Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
ISABELLE
There are many things in life that can be frustrating—slow internet, waiting for a video to buffer, battling through heavy rain with an umbrella that keeps flipping inside out, someone purposely spoiling the ending of a book or movie, making a dash for the subway or elevator, only to see the doors close right in front of you, and so on and so forth.
But there are also many things in life that remind you of the beauty in the everyday—finishing a book or movie that leaves you with a warm and fuzzy feeling, getting home in time before it starts raining, someone remembering something small you said, a random act of kindness, mastering a new skill, snuggling into a cozy bed, and so on.
Jackson’s lips against mine feels like all those things and much more.
Above all, kissing him feels like finding a home that’s been there waiting for me all along.
My hand toys with Jackson’s hair, and I’m lost in the sensation of his lips against mine, like it’s everything I desperately want—and need—more of.
One of Jackson’s hands moves lower down to my waist while the other slides up my body, and to say that he is a good kisser is a complete understatement.
Jackson’s tongue teases my bottom lip, and my lips part open with a breathless moan.
We stagger inside his hotel room, our bodies entangled and my tote bag dropping to the carpeted floor.
A groan rumbles in his throat, and he kicks the door shut. A rush of exhilaration floods through my veins, as I know that we’re now truly alone.
As our tongues swirl together, his hands roam my body, and his mouth consumes mine in a way that says I’m wholly and only his. Heat thrums in places I thought couldn’t be possible, and a throbbing sensation pulses between my legs.
Jackson pulls apart from me, his breathing labored as he stares into my eyes. “I’d resisted the urge to kiss you all night, but I couldn’t do it anymore.”
“I … I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until you kissed me,” I gasp.
My confession immediately stirs something within him because the next moment, he pins me against the wall in swift motion, lust dominating his brown eyes as he scans my face.
He’s thinking, contemplating, assessing what to do next. What to do to me next, to be specific.
I want him to do everything to me.
Everything.
My chest heaves up and down as the uncertainty of what’s going to happen next torments me. Bubbles of silence float in the air, coupled with thick tension, and it’s pure torture. I’m craving the taste of him, and I desperately need his lips on mine again, almost as much as I need air.
A smoldering look enters Jackson’s hooded eyes, and his voice carries a gravelly and dangerous tone when he speaks again. “Tell me about the dream you had about me.”
My cheeks flush. Oh Lord. He knows about that dream. The dream which I definitely accidentally let slip that time I visited his office.
I swallow. “Bold of you to assume I implied I had a dream about you and not someone else.”
Something dark flashes in his eyes, and he drags his mouth to mine again, eliciting a moan from me. “Don’t lie to me now, Isabelle.”
My name sounds like a sin on his lips, and this time, instead of embarrassment, I’m feeling something else. Anticipation. Thrill. Euphoria.
If he wants to reenact that dream, I’ll more than happily cooperate.
“You … um …” I attempt to form words, but my mind’s a haze.
“Maybe this will help refresh your memory,” he rasps, then slowly peppers a series of delicious kisses along my jaw.
He really knows all the right things to do and say.
“You picked me up, and I looped my legs around your waist,” I recall, my voice shaky as the memory of my now-not-so-forbidden dream comes back to me.
Jackson picks me up, and his simmering gaze searches desperately for mine, velvet and silk and sinful. I hook my legs around his body as he pins me against the wall.
“And then?” he demands. I’ve never heard him sound so commanding, but I’m convinced it’s the hottest thing ever. “What happened next?”
“You … you placed me on the counter and began to kiss …”
Without waiting a second, Jackson carries me to the desk in his hotel room and slowly trails more kisses down my jawline and neck.
The hairs rise on the nape of my neck, and my body shivers with pleasure. I thread my fingers through his hair, desperately seeking more contact with him. With each touch of his lips against my skin, it’s as if I’m slowly losing control of myself, my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.
Yet I’ve never felt more alive.
There’s something so hot about Jackson kissing me while he’s wearing the sweatshirt I made for him, and, God, I don’t want him to stop.
He works his way down my collarbone and to the top of my chest. “As much as I love this dress on you, it needs to go.”
“I agree,” I whimper.
A smirk tugs at his lips, which now has my pink lipstick over it. “Is that what happened in your dream, too?”
I hesitate. “No, because at that point, I woke up and realized it was nothing but a dream.”
My breath hitches. Maybe everything that’s happening is just another dream, and I’ll wake up at any second. Or maybe he’s going to want to stop now.
Thick silence hangs in the air once again, adding to the bundle of nerves tormenting my body.
Jackson cups my face, his eyes staring into mine, tender and unwavering. “Everything that’s happening right now … this isn’t a dream. This is all real. So real.”
And that’s all the assurance I need to know I’m not dreaming right now.
“Would you like to keep going?” he asks. “If not, we’ll stop right now, no questions asked.”
“Yes,” I whisper and fully mean it. “I want us to keep going.” My voice comes out pleading, but I don’t care.
I want him.
Having never been physically intimate with anyone aside from my ex, tonight has shown me that I very much still have needs. Needs that are loudly calling and chanting Jackson’s name.
“You won’t have to say that twice,” he says, voice low and rough.
His words send a shiver down my spine, and I hear the sound of a zipper as he unzips my dress. I help him with sliding the dress down, and it falls to the floor, leaving me in my strapless bra and underwear.
A carnal desire fills Jackson’s brown eyes as he takes me in, his hand gently tracing my thigh before moving to the fabric of my underwear and reaching my core. Slowly, tantalizingly, he starts teasing me like he’s going to take his time with me.
My eyes flutter shut momentarily, pressure building up within me like a crescendo as I arch my head back, gripping the edge of the desk. His touch on me is akin to a matchstick being lit, causing an unbridled fire to burn in me I don’t want to ever put out.
“Jackson.”
The world reduces to nothing but me and him inside the hotel room. I don’t even think I remember my own name anymore, let alone what I had for dinner, however long or short ago that was.
Jackson’s breaths turn sharp as he watches me, looking like he’s lost at sea and I’m his only anchor.
Stars dance across my vision, and sparks flicker across each inch of my skin, heightening every sensation in my body until I’m sated with pleasure. I cry Jackson’s name once more when I reach my climax, my thighs quivering and my breathing heavy.
My eyes lock with his once more, and before I know it, his mouth is on mine again. Muffled whimpers bubble from my throat, and I loop my legs around his torso, craving every possible inch of physical contact with him.
“We’re relocating to the bed,” he grunts, pulling apart from me.
“Agree,” I breathe.
One second, I’m still on the desk, and the next, he’s lifting me and carrying me to the bed. He lays me down on the mattress, leaving me to watch impatiently as he stands, carefully taking off the sweatshirt I gave him.
“Can’t you just rip it off?” I whine.
“Rip off something you made for me?” His eyes darken. “Never.”
I was so nervous that Jackson might not like what I’d made for him. But for him to treat the sweatshirt like it’s something special … it’s everything to me.
Jackson folds the sweatshirt and places it on an armchair, then finally walks over to me again. He starts undoing the first button of his shirt, his eyes fixated on me.
I sit up and pout. “I want to help.”
Jackson kneels on the bed, his hands gripping my waist. “I’m all yours, baby.”
God.
My hands fumble as I unbutton his shirt, revealing his beautifully toned chest and abs and a defined V-line leading toward his pants. It’s clear he takes his workout routine more than seriously, and I trace my fingers down his chest, taking in the gorgeous sight that is shirtless Jackson.
Help. He’s so hot.
“Is it aesthetically pleasing enough?” Jackson smirks, borrowing the phrase I called him earlier tonight.
“Yes.” I swallow. “You’re really blessing my eyeballs, Carter.”
Another chuckle leaves him as he hastily unbuckles his belt, and I bite my lip as I watch him, anticipation soaring through me.
Oh, how I want him. So badly. So—
“Shit,” Jackson suddenly curses, stopping what he’s doing.
“What’s wrong?” I glance up, noticing the tension on his face. Does he not want to do this anymore?
Jackson runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t have a condom. I didn’t pack any for this trip. I didn’t think we’d be …”
“Oh.” I swallow. “I’m not on anything at the moment.” I went off birth control after my breakup with Oliver.
“Fuck.” He closes his eyes. “This is my fault.”
“Hey, it’s not,” I say. “Neither of us probably expected that we’d end up here.”
I certainly didn’t think that by the end of the event, I would find myself in Jackson’s bed.
Jackson’s gaze locks with mine, and determination underlines his voice when he speaks. “Apparently, there’s a pharmacy opposite our hotel. I swear, tonight, there’ll be a new record for the world’s fastest sprinter.”
A laugh escapes my mouth, and my gaze shifts again to the strain in his pants, which will be obvious to any passerby if he walks out now.
“Maybe I can go instead? I need to buy something else from the pharmacy anyway.”
He shakes his head, a rueful look pulling his face. “I meant it when I said I don’t want you to worry about anything for the entirety of this trip.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I can go.”
Jackson opens his mouth, as if to protest, but I press a quick kiss to his lips.
“I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”
“Okay,” he finally concedes, still looking conflicted. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“I can’t wait.”
After I get dressed, Jackson wraps his suit jacket around my shoulders before passing me his Amex card.
Leaving his room, I pull his jacket closer toward me, taking in the scent. His jacket smells exactly like his fresh cologne, and I make a mental note to ask for the name of his fragrance later.
I’m close to the lobby exit when my phone, which is inside the side seam pocket of my dress, vibrates with a new text, and I take it out.
Jen
How’s Chicago?
I smile at her message. I haven’t had a chance to update her yet on everything that’s happened between me and Jackson, but I’ll do so as soon as I’m back home tomorrow morning.
Me
Amazing! Will update you later!
After hitting Send, I put my phone back inside my pocket.
When I glance back up, I come into contact with a familiar face, who’s standing inside the hotel lobby.
I freeze, a stream of unwanted memories reentering my mind. Talk about terrible timing. He’s the last person I want to see right now—or ever.
A hesitant smile slowly forms on his lips. “Hey.”