Chapter 27 Leah
Leah
She could tell from his face that he’d freaked himself out somehow.
When Jackson made to climb off her, his eyes shadowed with awkwardness, Leah took a handful of the front of his t-shirt to hold him in place.
They both knew he could break free in an instant, but he froze the moment she grabbed him, hovering above her, braced on straight arms.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t think so.” Mock-fierce, Leah’s growl was impressive.
She congratulated herself when Jackson’s eyebrows arched in comical surprise.
“I believe I was the one who challenged you to the race and I was the one who asked to come in here. You’ve had no complaints from me about being flung about.
In fact, I think there should be more flinging to come. I insist on more flinging.”
His wary face softened. “You insist, huh?”
“I do.”
“And the looming didn’t bother you?”
Leah’s attention was caught by the rise and fall of his chest beneath her clenched fist. “I like the looming.”
“You like the looming?”
“The looming is sexy.”
“Honestly?” His breathing deepened once more, his blue eyes fixed on her face.
“Hey, mister—are we or are we not, right now, lying on the Bed of Truth?”
Jackson’s shoulders unclamped. A wonky grin lifted one corner of his mouth. “We are.”
She opened her palms and ran her fingers over the hard planes of his chest; his muscles leaped beneath his t-shirt at her touch. “So, do you want to do more talking? Or can we possibly get back to the looming and the kissing?”
Leah could no sooner stop her gaze from dropping to his lips than she could have climbed from the bed and headed out of the door.
She wanted this complicated, mercurial man more than was healthy, with a protective urge she’d never expected.
Her body was poised for the starting gun of his touch, her own hands desperate to continue their exploration.
The noise that came from deep in Jackson’s throat set off an echoing pulse between her thighs.
He grabbed the neck of his t-shirt at the back and yanked it over his head.
God, finally! Leah’s eyes feasted on his broad chest, his bare biceps, the dip at the base of his throat.
His ruffled hair mirrored the unleashed flare in his eyes.
“Now that was worth waiting for,” she squeaked.
“Your turn,” he said gruffly in reply.
His fingers moved to the front of her shirt.
The material was worn, the fastenings loose.
The buttons slid easily from each hole. Leah allowed herself a moment of self-consciousness.
White and lacy though it might be, her bra was unexciting.
She wasn’t toned like Jackson. Her skin pale, her abs non-existent.
The comment she might have made, masking her insecurities, stifled at the back of her throat as Jackson ran a finger along the edge of one bra cup, grazing her breast with a touch as light as an artist’s paintbrush.
Eyes enthralled, mouth tilted in that sexy half-smile, he sent shivers rippling beneath her diaphragm, lifting the hairs on her arms. “So soft. So beautiful.”
Leah arched beneath his thighs. “More, Jackson. Touch me more.”
He slid a hand behind her back, fumbled long enough that they both huffed out a laugh, and finally undid the clasp of her bra.
Impatient to be rid of her clothes, she executed an artful shimmy and managed to slide her arms out of both her shirt and the bra.
On either side of her waist, Jackson’s thighs tightened like bowstrings with the movement, his eyes fluttering closed in what looked like blissful agony.
“Fucking hell, Leah. Are you trying to drive me completely insane?”
“Is it working?” She wanted to giggle, tease him further, but the laughter died on her lips as he slid a thumb over one of her nipples and cupped her breast in his capable hand. Her question, his non-answer, went unnoticed by them both.
Jackson covered her slowly with his body, his lips finding hers with driven desperation.
His teeth, his tongue, explored her mouth, biting, nibbling, lightly then roughly.
And all the while his weight pressed down on her, supported just enough by his elbows to let her breathe.
If she could remember how. His lips were cool, his tongue was warm.
When he slid down her body to swipe his mouth over her breast, rolling her nipple between his lips, she curled her fingers into his hair and gripped him to her chest as he feasted.
Between her legs, Leah clenched with a gasp on the absence of him.
Parting her knees and rocking her hips, she resorted without shame to begging.
“Please, Jackson. Please.” Leah repeated the litany over and over.
His eyes were a little wild and furnace-hot when he surged upright, his fingers unsteady as he popped the button and undid the zipper on her shorts.
Jackson stripped both layers off together, his patience gone, his control at a bare minimum.
Sliding them down her legs and away, he returned immediately to touch the tattoo he’d uncovered on her hip—a tiny black raven in flight, wings outstretched.
He traced the bird with his finger and turned warm eyes to her face. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“It’s perfect.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss over the ink on her hip.
“I drew it myself.”
Leah quivered at the touch of his lips, so close to where her desire was spiraling out of control.
The heat built faster and faster as his hand moved from her thigh to brush her stomach and the neat triangle of hair below.
When Jackson’s fingers slid between her legs, a moment of sudden shyness washed over her.
She turned her head on the pillow. He drew one long, steady stroke through the slickness and she gasped; he bit off a curse.
“You are so beautiful, Leah. Spread out like this, you blow my mind.”
He leaned forward again. A reflexive ripple gripped the muscles in her stomach.
She felt his breath before he touched her, all conscious reflection scudding away like clouds in a blustery sky.
Jackson’s tongue left sparks fizzing and flashing in its wake.
It was impossible to focus on anything other than the path he drew between her thighs.
She twisted and quivered, begging him, praising him.
His grip grew firm on her hips, holding her in place, inflaming her more.
On the upsweep, his tongue bathed her clit in the softest warmth imaginable.
When he drew backward, the light stubble on his jaw drove her insane.
Pleasure, and perfect, prickly pain. It was unbearable.
She burned, desperate for release. Half out of her mind, she lasted only until he slid two fingers into her silky depths, stretching her wide around him.
Leah’s orgasm ripped through her body like a seismic wave, turning her blood to lava as she shook from the force of it.
A visceral hum of satisfaction and tortured desire vibrated in Jackson’s throat.
His biceps bunched, rock-hard and taut when he pulled himself upward.
His erection jutted, still confined by his clothes, bruising the tender curve of her thighs.
Her pulse hammering, Leah’s hands roamed restlessly from his hair to his shoulders to the tense muscles of his bulky arms, traveling greedily downward.
They found the waistband of Jackson’s shorts and she tugged at the button fly.
“Off!”
He moved fast, rolling to one side to strip naked, baring every inch of his physique to her in a few swift maneuvers.
Leah ran hungry eyes over his body, marveling at the contrast between his rigid form and her own.
Jackson held her gaze as he gripped his cock and gave it one firm stroke, the endless black of his pupils dominating his blue irises.
He looked fierce. He looked desperate. He looked glorious.
“Shit. My wallet. It’s downstairs on the table.” A pained grimace crossed his face as he bent to scoop up his t-shirt again. “I think I have a condom—”
“I’m on the pill.” Leah grabbed at his top, tugging it gently from his hands. Downstairs was too far away. “I haven’t slept with anyone since Matt.”
Relief flared in Jackson’s eyes. “It’s been a while for me, too, and I’ve always used protection. If you’re sure—”
“I’m sure. I need you now. Like this.”
He took a heavy, juddering breath and crawled onto the bed, covering her body with his.
She spread her legs in invitation. The brush of his skin a sinful seduction, his weight a primal thrill.
Whispering flattering, adoring, dirty words into her ear, Jackson settled between her thighs, linking his fingers through hers on the mattress either side of her head.
His heart thundered against her ribcage.
There was a moment of painful anticipation as he dropped his head to kiss her and kiss her again.
Then, with a steady surge that ripped a groan from his throat and a gasp from hers, Jackson pushed inside until he filled her completely.
“Oh God, yes. Fuck. That’s . . . That is . . . so hot, so good.” His lips moved against her temple, his voice strangled. “I can feel every ripple of you.”
Leah was beyond words. Jackson’s hips rolled within the cradle of hers, the friction setting off fireworks everywhere they touched.
His size, his heat, his bulk, fanned the flames still licking across her skin, and she was in heaven.
A turn of her head had her mouth pressed to the tight, salty cords of his neck.
She tasted him and he shuddered. She bit him lightly and he cursed.
She wanted to explore him everywhere, see all of him, touch every inch, but this was too damn good.
Being surrounded by Jackson felt like lifting her hands and face to a summer storm and letting the wild weather consume her.
His words were hoarse, unintelligible. When she gripped him tightly with her heels behind his thighs, he shook inside the circle of her legs and his control shattered.
Her heart full, her body fuller, Leah dragged him even closer.
She reveled in the way Jackson’s coordination deserted him as he fell, jaw tight, body rigid, into the same maelstrom of frenzied bliss that swallowed her, too.
Her second orgasm built on the first, her every nerve-ending hypersensitive, sweeping her away on an uncontrollable wash of pleasure. Her name was on his lips as he came.
Their shuddering breaths echoed through the bedroom.
Leah closed her eyes and fought to gather her scattered senses.
The dizzying zipline from Esther’s funeral to here, through attraction, irritation, potential unavailability, and resentment, had been a wild ride.
From the first touch of his lips on hers, she’d suspected sex with Jackson would surpass any of her previous experiences.
It had done all that and more. It had blown her inside out, like washing on a clothesline hit by the force of nature. Dazzlingly, terrifyingly life-changing.