Chapter Seven
Jackson
Before I can even catch my breath, the fog clears and I feel my energy plummet.
Rose is boneless on her stomach, arms splayed across the mattress, her chest still rising and falling in heavy breaths. My own lungs are working just as hard, sweat cooling against my skin, my heart still pounding from everything that just happened.
Then it stutters hard enough that I press a hand to my chest.
There's a strange hollow beat beneath my ribs, followed by a rush of cold that rolls through me so fast my skin prickles. My eyes catch on the marks across Rose's back from my nails, the red prints on her ass, my cum splattered across her skin, and all the heat drains out of me at once.
Fuck.
My stomach turns over. My hands start shaking, just a fine tremor at first, but I can't make it stop, and suddenly I'm freezing even though sweat is still running down my spine.
“I'll get you a towel.” My voice sounds wrong to my own ears, thin and too far away, and I'm already moving before I know what the hell I'm trying to get away from. “I'm so sorry.”
Rose says something behind me, but I can't hear her through the roaring in my ears.
The bathroom feels farther away than it is. A wave of dizziness hits when I reach the counter, and I have to brace one hand against it until the floor settles enough for me to grab a towel with fingers that don't quite want to work.
Warm water.
She needs warm water.
Doesn't she?
Or cold. Fuck. Maybe cold.
I stand there staring at the towel under the faucet, completely unable to remember what the fuck I'm doing with it.
Rose.
Right.
I wring it out, grab a bottle of water from the minibar and make myself go back to the bed.
My knees feel weak when I sit beside her, but taking care of her gives me something to focus on, so I start cleaning her skin carefully.
One pass of the towel, then another, concentrating way too hard on every movement while the trembling in my hands gets worse and my jaw clenches tight enough to ache.
Then I find another crescent from my nails near her shoulder.
My vision blurs.
Fuck.
I blink hard, but that only knocks the first tear loose. I wipe it away with the back of my wrist before she can see and keep going, because I need my hands doing something. I need to take care of her. Clean her up. Get her water. Do whatever comes next.
Fix it.
Whatever my body has suddenly decided I broke, I need to fucking fix it.
Another tear slips free before I can stop it, and this time my chest pulls tight around a breath that won't go all the way in.
Rose must feel something change because she rolls over, and the second she sees my face, her expression shifts.
“Hey. Hey, come here.”
She catches my wrist before I can wipe my face again and pulls me down beside her.
I don't even have enough fight in me to argue.
She turns us onto our sides and tucks my head against her chest, one arm wrapping around my shoulders while her other hand slips into my hair and starts moving slowly over my scalp.
“You're okay,” she murmurs. “You did so fucking good for me. Exactly what I needed.”
“I hurt you.”
“You didn't, Jackson. I promise.”
“I can see the marks.”
“I know.” She doesn't tell me they're not there or try to make me feel crazy for seeing them. Her fingers just keep moving through my hair while another shiver works through me, and she pulls me tighter against her. “I know they're there, and I'm okay. I wanted everything you gave me.”
My eyes close, and that was a mistake because the tears come faster.
I fucking hate this.
I hate the shaking and the cold and the fact that I know she's talking to me, but some part of my brain is still screaming that I did something wrong. I hate that ten minutes ago I felt completely in control of my own body and now I can't even convince my hands to stop trembling.
“It's just a drop, baby,” she says, pressing her lips against my forehead. “You'll feel better in a little while. Don't fight it.”
“I fucking hate this.”
“I know you do.” There's something almost tenderly amused in her voice.
Of all the possible people to lose control of my own fucking nervous system in front of, naturally it had to be the woman who knows exactly how much I'd rather wrestle a bear.
“So, we're not going to do anything for a few minutes.
We're going to lie right here until your hands stop shaking, then we'll drink some water and take a shower. That's the entire agenda.”
A wet laugh catches somewhere in my throat.
“Bossy.”
“Extremely. Now breathe for me.”
I try, but the first breath catches halfway down and my chest tightens around it. Rose doesn't tell me to calm down or make me try harder. She just takes a long, slow breath beneath me, her chest expanding against my cheek until I can feel the rhythm of it, then lets it out just as slowly.
I follow her on the next one. It's uneven and my lungs still feel too tight, but I get most of it in before letting it go.
“That's it,” she whispers, her fingers still moving through my hair. “Again.”
So I breathe with her.
My face stays pressed against the warmth of her chest, her heartbeat steady beneath my ear while I follow it one breath at a time.
The cold doesn't disappear all at once and neither does the sick feeling in my stomach, but after a while my lungs stop fighting me.
The trembling in my hands eases from something I can see to something I can only feel, and the roaring in my ears slowly gives way to Rose's heartbeat and the soft drag of her fingers through my hair.
At some point, I stop trying to fix anything.
I just let her hold me.
And somewhere between one breath and the next, sleep takes me under.
***
I don't know how long I was out, but at least I feel like myself when I wake up. I stretch my limbs and reach for Rose beside me, but the bed is empty.
“I'm right here.”
She crosses the room wearing my shirt and climbs back into bed with a bottle of water. “Sit up and drink this for me. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” My voice comes out like I've been gargling gravel. My throat is so fucking dry.
I sit up against the headboard and drain the bottle in a few gulps before setting it on the nightstand. Rose settles beside me, close enough that our legs touch, and for a while neither of us says anything.
There's a lot sitting in this room with us now.
“Drops are normal,” she says eventually.
“Sometimes all those chemicals your body dumps during a scene fall off faster than your system knows what to do with. It can leave you shaky like you were. Cold, even emotional and anxious. Pretty much everything that just happened to you.” Her fingers drift over my forearm.
“You had something similar happen after the hotel room, but not this bad.
I should've remembered that. I'm sorry if I pushed you too hard.”
“You didn't.”
She looks at me.
“Rose, I'm serious. I'm not sorry about any of it. I just wasn't prepared for whatever the fuck happened afterward.” I shake my head. “One minute I felt fucking incredible, and the next I was standing in your bathroom staring at a wet towel like I'd never encountered one before in my life.”
That pulls a small smile from her.
“Not my finest showing.”
“You were dropping. You don't get graded.”
“Good, because I would've failed spectacularly.”
“But fuck, baby, I wouldn't change a fucking thing about what we did today. I've never wanted anything more.” I rub my hand slowly along her back. “And I love that you trust me enough to give me that much control with you. I know what that means coming from you.”
She goes quiet against me.
“It feeds something in me too,” I admit. “Being dominant with you. Taking care of you that way. Having you trust me enough to let me.”
Her fingers curl lightly against my stomach.
“As you're well aware.”
“I may have noticed.”
I laugh and squeeze her closer. “So don't rewrite what happened because my nervous system decided to throw a fucking tantrum afterward. I need to understand the drop better, sure. Be ready for it next time.”
Rose lifts her head. “Next time?”
“Baby.” I look down at her. “There is absolutely going to be a next time.” I kiss her lips.
“And a next time, and a next time after that.
No matter how many times I've imagined being with you again over the years, and it's been more times than any man should admit, my imagination never came close to doing it justice. For an elder, you are a really hot fuck.”
“You're waking a vengeful beast in me, Marcus Jackson. Don't poke the bear.”
Even as she threatens me, she's settling deeper into my arms, nuzzling into my neck and inhaling like she's committing the smell of my skin to memory. Her lips brush over my pulse before she kisses her way down my chest and across my stomach.
“You're not so bad yourself, young buck.”
I laugh and pull her back up before she can get too far. “Young buck? Jesus Christ.”
“You started it.”
“Fair.”
She smiles against my chest, but it doesn't last. I feel the change in her before she says anything, the way her body gets a little less loose against mine while her fingers keep tracing absently over my skin.
“I can't stop thinking about everything you told me. It's all I thought about while you were sleeping, Jackson. I know you said you didn't want me involved, but I could help. You know I could.”
“No. I don't want you mixed up in it at all. That's the whole reason I haven't told you.” I kiss her temple. “I'm sorry I've kept it a secret.”
She goes rigid.
It's subtle, but she's lying half on top of me, so there isn't much she can hide.
I rub my hand over her shoulder and look down at her. “You okay?”
She doesn't answer immediately. Her fingers move to my bicep instead, trailing lightly over my skin while she watches them.
“There's a lot I haven't told you about me too. About my own family.”
I assumed as much, but I'd never pushed on a door she hasn't opened herself.
“You don't have to tell me anything, Rose. But you can tell me anything. Okay?”