Chapter 29 Jackson
JACKSON
It’s after eleven when I hear the groan of the garage door. I told Rosalie to stay as long as she wanted, and I’m glad she did. She deserves to have fun with her friends.
The trust she put in me to take care of her son fills my chest with pride.
Of course, Edward has been asleep for hours.
I did a little tidying after he went to bed, and have been keeping myself entertained by reading a book from Rosalie’s personal library.
I’m still waiting on her to send me part of her book.
I’m dying to read her words, but I trust she’ll let me when she’s ready.
I close the book with a soft snap as Rosalie tiptoes into the room. Her hand rests against the wall, as if to hold her steady, and it makes me wonder if she’s had a few drinks. I like tipsy Rosalie.
I can’t help but grin as she spots me noticing her from her favorite reading chair.
“Hey”—she sets her purse onto the kitchen counter—“Thank you for tonight.”
“You have fun?”
She holds up her hand and pinches her thumb and forefinger together. “Lil’ bit.” Her laughter is soft and her smile is unguarded. “Did everything go okay here? How was Edward? Did he miss me?” She flattens her hand and shakes her head. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”
I put her fears to rest. “He was an angel. But he did write you a good-night message.” I could tell he wanted her at bedtime, but he put on a brave face. I stand and join Rosalie at the kitchen counter, passing her the note. “He’s a good kid, Rosalie.”
“He is, isn’t he?” She reads his note and presses a hand to her chest. “My sweet boy.”
“You hungry? I put leftovers in the fridge.”
“Nah.” She pats her belly and walks over to the sofa. “I’m so full.” She stops short and her brow furrows sharply as she stares at the folded clothes on the back of the sofa. “What is this?”
There’s no way she’s forgotten about our shopping trip. I stare at her, confused.
“Uh, those are Edward’s new clothes.”
She picks up a T-shirt and buries her face in the fabric before inhaling audibly. I take a step forward, slightly concerned by the oddness of her behavior.
“Is everything okay?”
She lowers the clothing, her eyes wide as they meet my stare.
“This smells like my laundry detergent.”
“It is,” I say slowly. “I washed them.”
“You washed them?” Her voice rises. “Fucking hell, Jackson.”
Shit. “Was that wrong?”
“No.” She laughs, but then the sound morphs into more of a sob as she sets the shirt back with the others.
Fuck. I thought I was helping by washing the clothes, but maybe she has a method for new clothes and I just messed it up. I close the space between us in two long strides.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was being helpful.”
“You are!” she practically cries. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes as her gaze lifts to mine.
“Then, why are you sad?” I cup her face and use my thumbs to wipe away her tears as they fall.
“No one takes care of me.” She sniffles. “At least, no one ever did. Not until you.”
Oh, thank goodness. She’s not upset by my actions. She’s touched.
“Oh, honey.” I pull her body into my arms and hug her to my chest. I rub her back. “I’d take care of you a lot more if you let me.”
It’s meant to be teasing. A little flirting to lighten the mood. But when Rosalie takes a step back and her gaze lifts to mine, there are no more tears. There’s nothing but red-hot longing in their depths.
“Yes. I want that.”
“You sure?” I ask, needing confirmation. “You’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage.”
“I’m tipsy, Jackson. Not drunk. And I know what I want.” Those words soothe my insecurities and apprehensions. She wants me. Thank, fuck, because I want her too.
Her touch is desperate as she grabs for my hand and pulls me toward her bedroom door. “We have to be quiet,” she whispers as we pass Edward’s room.
“That won’t be a problem. The things I want to do with you require zero words.”
She giggles and we slip inside her room. She locks the door behind us and launches herself into my arms.
Our mouths meet in a clash of lips and teeth.
It’s been awhile since we’ve done this. I’m like a man lost in the woods and deprived of water who’s stumbled upon a creek—I can’t get enough.
My hands roam over her curves, pulling roughly at her clothes.
The need to be close, with no barriers between us, is so overwhelming I can’t think straight.
Clothes hit the floor. Our kisses only break when necessary.
I walk her backward until we reach her bed.
I haul her into my arms and climb onto the bed, pressing her into the mattress.
Her gasps of pleasure spur my kisses down her body.
I suck one of her breasts, licking her nipple into a hard peak, then give the same attention to the other.
Her hands are in my hair, tugging and encouraging my descent down her belly until I settle between her legs. My mouth salivates as I spread her legs. I’ve been dying to taste her, to bury my face and kiss her here, to make her come, all of this.
I eat her out with enthusiasm, adding my fingers to bring her closer to the finish line.
I keep my groans to a minimum, but she’s the one who has a difficult time being quiet.
A wicked sense of pride pulls my lips into a smile whenever I get her to moan or cry out.
She reaches for a pillow and shoves it onto her face.
Through the trembling of her thighs and her muted screams, I focus all my efforts on her clit, taking her to the edge and riding out each delicious wave of her orgasm.
I slow my ministrations when she finally tosses the pillow to the side.
“Fuck,” she whispers with a ragged breath.
“My sentiments exactly.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm, and climb back over her. My cock is rock hard and aching to be seated in her wet pussy. I kiss her lips, holding my body over hers so I don’t crush her with my weight. “How do you want me to fuck you?”
“Like this.”
She widens her legs, wrapping them around mine, and her hand snakes between our bodies, gripping my length and lining us up. Her heels dig into the backs of my thighs as I feed her the tip.
The urge to slam the rest of the way home is tremendous, but I resist. It’s been awhile, and I don’t want to hurt her. Besides, if I go hard and fast, I won’t last long. Instead, I focus on my breathing and slide in as slowly as possible, waiting for her body to adjust before pulling back out.
“Wait!” She presses a hand onto my chest. Her eyes are wide as they meet mine. “We need to talk.”
“Now?”
“Yes.” She shakes her head. “No. But soon. We should talk soon.”
A chuckle passes through my lips. I can’t help it. Obviously, I want to talk too, but I’d like to finish this first.
“Should I continue?”
“Yes.” Her grin causes my chest to tighten. “Please.”
The way she’s looking at me, in a way no one has before, makes me feel like I am deserving of a life with Rosalie. There’s so much affection and love in my body, I swear my cells must be radiating. Can she feel how much I care for her? She must.
I wrap my arms around her body and weave one hand into the nape of her neck.
I give her hair a solid tug and brace myself on one elbow, thrusting my hips forward.
I capture her gasp of pleasure with a kiss, and do it again.
Over and over. In and out. Kissing. Thrusting.
I give her my body and soul. I swallow her moans, the only fuel I need to keep going.
I make love to this woman with everything I have.
As our bodies grow warmer, friction and sweat creating the most erotic of soundtracks, we find our perfect rhythm.
Her walls squeeze my length, tempting my release, until finally I cannot delay the inevitable.
Pulling out at the last possible second, I bury my head into the crook of her neck and use her body to mute the guttural groan that accompanies my release.
Sticky ropes coat her stomach and chest, as well as mine.
I sag into her, making things messier. I don’t even care.
Her hands brush up and down my back, and when her fingers make their way into my hair, I can’t help but sigh. Her touch, her body, her affection. I could stay like this forever. She’s all I’ll ever want.
“We made a mess,” she whispers into the night.
“We did.” As much as I don’t want to, I push my weight off of her and separate our bodies, sitting up on the bed.
Her hair is spread out on the bedsheets, wild and completely out of place.
Her lips are swollen from my kisses. Her body glistens with a mix of sweat and my release.
She’s never looked more beautiful. “You are so hot right now.”
“I doubt that.” She reaches up to brush her hair back, as if a little self-conscious.
“You are.” I grin, then give her thigh a playful slap. “Now, stay here. I’ll bring you a wet towel to clean up.”
She points to a door that leads to her en-suite bathroom. “Clean towels are under the sink.”
I walk to her bathroom and find the towels, running the water until it’s warm before wetting a washcloth. I take the opportunity to clean myself up, and then head back to the bedroom. Rosalie’s eyes are closed, and her chest rises and falls with a steady breath. She’s fallen asleep.
I run the towel over her skin, which rouses her back to consciousness. She watches as I clean her body, a sleepy grin playing at her lips.
“Did I get it all?” I ask.
“I think so.”
“It was a lot.”
“Ugh, don’t be crass.”
“What? It’s the truth. I guess that’s what happens when you go weeks without sex.”
“An unfamiliar experience for you.” There’s a lighthearted teasing to her sarcasm.
“Worth it.” I toss the towels to the floor, and rejoin her in the bed. I wrap my arms around her, and pull her close.
She curves toward me, draping her thigh over mine and resting her arm over my chest. Her body fits against mine as if she were made for me. We’re like two puzzle pieces. We just fit.
Our breaths even, slowing to their normal pace as our heart rates regulate. She’s warm against my body and my eyelids begin to grow heavy, but I fight the pull of sleep to enjoy this a little longer. I’m so damn happy with her in my arms; everything seems possible.
“We still need to talk.” Her voice is groggy with sleep.
“Later, darlin’.” It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a full week. She must be exhausted. “Sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”
Her lips curve into a smile and she snuggles against my chest, yawning. “I am really tired.”
I love you. The words press against my lips, demanding to be let free.
But I hold them inside. This woman is it for me.
I know it with every fiber of my being. But I’m not sure she’s ready to hear that yet, and I refuse to do anything to chase her away.
For now, it’s enough to hold her in my arms and watch her fall asleep.