17. Aliyah
ALIYAH
My back presses against the cold wood of Jackson's front door, his massive frame caging me in. The confession echoes in my mind, each word a hammer strike against the walls I've built. But I can't make sense of it. He's using me for his business. I'm offering him my body.
And it doesn't seem like that's what he wants.
No one has ever actually wanted me. All of me. The real me. It has me shaken.
"What do you mean?" My voice comes out smaller than I intend. "How do you want me?"
Jackson's dark eyes lock onto mine for a heartbeat before he tilts his head back. The streetlight catches the sharp angle of his jaw, the tension in his neck. A harsh exhale escapes him.
"In every way I can't have you." The words scrape out of his throat. His fingers flex against the door on either side of my head. "And trust me angel, I've tried to want anything else."
Something cracks inside my chest. The ice I've wrapped around myself for protection starts to splinter.
I've spent years perfecting the art of being wanted - knowing exactly how to move, what to say, which secrets to keep and which to trade.
Men have offered fortunes for a taste of what I pretend to be.
But Jackson... he's had access to all of that. The sultry smiles, the calculated touches, the perfectly crafted lies. I've served them up on a silver platter, and he doesn't seem enticed at all.
"You don't want..." The words stick in my throat.
"Your body? Your connections? The deals you are closing for me?" His laugh holds no humor. "Angel, I could take any of that if I wanted to. But that's not what keeps me up at night."
His admission hits like a punch to the gut.
Because he's right - he could have taken anything he wanted by force.
Instead he's kept me here, bought me clothes, made sure I'm safe.
Protected me while letting me keep my sharp edges - all behind the lie that he's blackmailing me when we both know that it's just a fake reason to keep me here.
No one has ever wanted the real me. The broken pieces I've spent years hiding behind pretty dresses and prettier lies. But the way Jackson looks at me now - like I'm something precious and dangerous all at once - makes me wonder if he sees straight through to all the darkness I try to hide.
That breaks me open.
I lift onto my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down to me.
Our lips crash together and the world stops spinning.
This isn't like the calculated kisses I've given before - the ones meant to manipulate and seduce.
This is raw. Real. Like I'm finally letting someone see past my armor.
Jackson groans against my mouth, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs.
He lifts me effortlessly and I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing closer as his tongue sweeps across my bottom lip.
The kiss deepens, and for the first time in my life, I'm not thinking about what information I can gather or what angle I can work. I'm just... feeling.
His steps are measured as he carries me through the darkness of his house. Even now, he maintains that military precision, that control that makes him so dangerous. But there's a tremor in his hands where they grip me, like he's fighting to hold himself together.
"Angel." The word ghosts across my lips as he breaks the kiss to navigate the stairs.
In the dim light, his eyes are black pools of need.
Not just lust - this is deeper. More terrifying.
Because he's looking at me like he wants to consume every secret I've ever kept, every lie I've ever told, every broken piece I've hidden away.
I should be scared. This man could destroy everything I've built.
But as he shoulders open his bedroom door, as his grip tightens possessively on my thighs, I realize I'm tired of running.
Tired of keeping everyone at arm's length.
For the first time, I want someone to see all of me - the sharp edges, the darkness, everything I try to hide behind pretty smiles and prettier lies.
Jackson's mouth finds mine again as he walks us toward his bed, and this kiss... it feels like coming home. Like finally letting go of the weight I've carried for so long.
Jackson lays me on his silk sheets with a gentleness that makes my heart stutter. My fingers find the hem of my dress, ready to give him what every other man has wanted from me. But he steps back, raking his fingers through his dark hair with a heavy sigh.
"Not like this, angel." He seems to struggle both looking at me and away from me, a war happening. "I told you - I don't want you this way."
"I want you." The admission burns my throat, words I never thought I'd say to anyone. "You want all of me? Here I am."
His dark eyes trace over me, uncertainty warring with desire.
I pull my dress over my head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside.
The black lace set underneath is one he bought me - delicate yet strong, like the fa?ade I wear.
But there's nothing calculated about this moment.
No secrets to trade, no information to gather.
I'm just finally giving into something that has been brewing since the moment we met.
Jackson takes another step back, but I shift up onto my knees, reaching for him. My fingers catch in his shirt.
"Stop running." My voice comes out raw, honest. "Let me in."
Something breaks in his expression. He captures my mouth in a bruising kiss that steals my breath.
I work the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, pushing the expensive fabric from his broad shoulders.
My hands roam over the hard planes of his chest, tracing old scars - physical proof of the dangerous life he leads.
A groan rumbles through him when I scrape my nails down his abs.
His muscles jump under my touch. This close, I can smell gunpowder and leather on his skin - reminders that this man deals in death.
But his hands on me are reverent, like I'm something precious rather than the devil in disguise he claims me to be.
My palms slide up his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength there. Every inch of him is honed for violence, yet he touches me with such control. Such care. It makes me want to shatter that restraint, to see what happens when the predator finally lets go.
I trail my fingers down his chest, memorizing every ridge of muscle, every scar that tells a story of violence. Jackson's breath hitches when I reach the waistband of his pants. His hands tighten on my hips, the pressure just shy of bruising.
"Last chance to stop this, angel." His voice comes out rough, strained. "Because once I start, I won't be able to hold back."
I meet his dark gaze, seeing the war raging behind those eyes that have haunted my dreams. The perfect soldier, always in control. Always calculating. But right now that control is slipping, and it's because of me.
"Maybe I don't want you to hold back." I hook my fingers in his belt loops, pulling him closer. "Maybe I want to see what happens when you finally let go."
A growl tears from his throat. His mouth crashes into mine, all teeth and tongue and desperation. Gone is the careful restraint he usually shows. This is raw need, primal and consuming. His hands slide up my back, fingers tracing the lace of my bra before unhooking it with practiced ease.
The cool air hits my skin as he tosses the garment aside.
Jackson pulls back, his gaze raking over me with an intensity that makes heat pool low in my belly.
I've been naked in front of countless men, used my body as a weapon to get what I want.
But the way he looks at me now - like he wants to devour every inch, claim every secret - makes me feel exposed in a way I never have before.
"Beautiful." The word comes out like a prayer and a curse wrapped into one. His calloused fingers trace the curve of my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. "Fucking perfect."
I arch into his touch, a gasp escaping when he replaces his fingers with his mouth. His teeth graze sensitive flesh, drawing a moan from deep in my throat. My hands find his hair, holding him close as pleasure sparks through my body.
This isn't like the calculated encounters I'm used to. There's no ulterior motive, no information to gain. Just pure need and the terrifying realization that I trust this dangerous man with my body, my secrets... maybe even my heart.
Jackson’s mouth is everywhere - on my neck, my collarbone, the slope of my shoulder - and the heat of him is overwhelming.
His hands are rough but deliberate, mapping my body like he’s memorizing every curve, every scar, every fragile piece of me.
I’ve been with men before, plenty of them, but this—this is different.
There’s no pretense here, no performance.
Just Jackson and the storm he’s unleashed on me.
He pushes me back onto the bed, his weight pinning me down, and I’m instantly drowning in him.
His kiss is relentless, all teeth and tongue and desperation, like he’s trying to consume me whole.
I’m burning up from the inside, my body arching into his, my hands gripping his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping me anchored.
“Jackson,” I gasp, my voice breaking. His name feels like a lifeline, the only thing I can hold onto as he strips away every barrier between us.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t hesitate, his hands sliding down my waist, over my hips, until he finds the thin fabric of my lace underwear. He tears it away with a growl, the sound vibrating through me, and then he’s there, his fingers pressing against me, and I’m already so wet, so ready for him.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters against my neck, his voice rough with need.
His fingers curl inside me, and I cry out, my body tightening around him.
He knows exactly how to touch me, like he’s been waiting for this moment, like he’s spent every second since we met figuring out what would shatter me.
And he’s right - he’s so right. I’m unraveling under his touch, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he drives me closer and closer to the edge.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice low and dark.
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze, and the intensity there steals the air from my lungs.
His eyes are black with desire, fierce and unyielding, and he doesn’t look away as he presses his thumb against that sweet, sensitive spot, sending a shockwave of pleasure through me.
My hips buck against his hand, my body trembling as he works me with a precision that’s almost cruel. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t give me a moment to breathe, just keeps pushing me higher and higher until I’m teetering on the edge of oblivion.
“Come for me, angel,” he growls, his voice full of command and something else, something possessive. “Let go.”
And I do. I shatter completely, my body convulsing as the wave of pleasure crashes over me.
Jackson doesn’t stop, his fingers still working me as I ride out the climax, his name a broken cry on my lips.
He’s relentless, drawing every last bit of sensation from me until I’m trembling and boneless beneath him.
When the tremors finally subside, he’s still there, his dark eyes watching me like he’s memorizing every detail of my face in this moment. His hand slides away, leaving me feeling achingly empty, and he leans down, his mouth brushing against mine in a kiss that’s almost tender.
"More," I whisper, my hands fumbling with the buckle of his belt. My fingers tremble, but I don’t stop, desperate to feel all of him. Jackson’s breath hitches as I undo his pants, pushing them down just enough to free him.
His length springs free, heavy and thick, and I can’t help but moan at the sight of him.
I’m already aching for him, my body still trembling from the first wave of pleasure he gave me.
"Please," I beg, my voice cracking. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, my heels digging into the small of his back. I need him inside me, filling the emptiness he left behind. I need to feel him claim me, to show me that he’s as far gone as I am. "Jackson, I need you."
He’s shaking too, his control slipping with every ragged breath he takes.
His hands grip my hips, his fingers pressing bruises into my skin as he lines himself up.
His dark eyes lock onto mine, intense and unyielding.
"Look at me, angel," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "Don’t you dare look away."
I nod, my breath catching as he pushes into me, slow and deliberate.
The stretch burns in the best way, his thickness filling me completely.
My head tips back instinctively, but Jackson’s grip tightens, forcing my gaze back to his.
"I said look at me," he snarls, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. I meet his eyes, my lip caught between my teeth as he slides deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside me.
"God, you’re tight," he groans, his voice rough with the strain of holding back. He’s still for a moment, letting me adjust, but the look in his eyes is anything but patient.
He’s watching me like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
"You wanted to give me everything, didn’t you?
So give it to me, angel. Every damn piece. "
I nod again, unable to speak, my body already trembling beneath him.
He pulls out almost all the way before thrusting back in, deep and hard, the force of it driving the air from my lungs.
My nails dig into his shoulders, my legs tightening around him as he sets a punishing pace, each thrust hitting that spot inside me that makes my vision blur.
"Jackson," I moan, his name a prayer on my lips. My body is on fire, every nerve alight with pleasure, but I keep my eyes locked on his like he demanded. His gaze is fierce, possessive, like he’s trying to brand his claim onto my soul.
"That’s it," he growls, his voice dark and primal. "I'm going to take every last piece of you." His thrusts grow harder, deeper, and I can feel the tension building inside me again, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement.
"You can have it," I whimper, my voice breaking as the pleasure becomes too much. My body clenches around him, the pressure building until it snaps, and I’m coming apart beneath him, my back arching off the bed as wave after wave of bliss crashes over me.
"Fuck," Jackson curses, his control finally shattering. His hips stutter, his thrusts growing uneven as he follows me over the edge. He groans my name, his voice raw and desperate, as he spills himself inside me, claiming me in the most primal way possible.
He stays buried deep inside me, his forehead pressed to mine as we both struggle to catch our breath. His eyes are still locked on mine, dark and possessive, and I know there’s no going back after this. Whatever line we crossed, there’s no way to uncross it.