Chapter 19 Abilene
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Abilene
Wednesday
Jesse’s still kissing me when I realize I’ve stopped thinking altogether.
It’s a kiss that’s all heat and intent, his mouth moving against mine like he wants this just as badly as I do. His body is close enough that I can feel every solid line of him, the warmth, the pressure, the way he fits far too easily into my space.
Into me.
My back hits the wall, though I don’t remember stepping backward. The wood is cool through my shirt, unlike Jesse’s hands as they slide to my waist, firm and possessive, thumbs pressing in.
Or claiming ground.
I should stop him. I know I should.
But my hands have already curled into his shirt, gripping like I need the leverage, and when he deepens the kiss, my knees go weak.
This is not me.
I don’t do hallway kisses. I don’t press myself into men who smell of whiskey and smoke. I don’t melt when someone looks at me like I’m something they’ve wanted for a long time.
And yet.
Jesse breaks the kiss just long enough to breathe my name against my mouth. “Abilene…”
It’s rough. Strained. He’s barely holding himself together.
The sound of my name in his voice makes my pulse skid. I tilt my head without thinking, giving him my jaw, my neck, and when his lips trail there, I gasp.
My head tips back against the wall, breath stuttering as his mouth explores. My fingers slide into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in his throat, the sound vibrating straight through me.
Oh no.
This is bad. This is so bad.
I know exactly how badly this could end, how messy it could get, how much I’ll regret it when the adrenaline fades.
And I still don’t stop him.
Jesse’s hand tightens at my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left to pretend this is anything but what it is.
His breath is warm against my skin, uneven now, and when his mouth returns to mine, it’s slower, deeper.
I make a sound before I can stop myself.
His forehead dips briefly to mine.
“Abilene,” he murmurs again, warning threaded through my name.
I don’t answer.
I slide my hands up his chest instead, feeling the solid heat beneath my palms, and the effect is immediate.
His breath stutters. His body presses closer, caging me gently against the wall, and the narrow hallway feels too small for the way my pulse is racing.
Then his hand slides lower.
His fingers brush the waistband of my leggings, tracing it lightly, teasing, checking whether I’ll pull away. Like he’s giving me one last chance to stop this before it goes somewhere neither of us can pretend we didn’t mean.
I don’t move.
My breath hitches instead, sharp and helpless, and the sound makes his jaw tighten. His thumb hooks just barely at the edge of the fabric, a subtle tug that sends heat pooling low.
Jesse’s hand dips beneath the waistband, warm against my skin, and the sensation steals the air from my lungs. I gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders, my body reacting before my mind can catch up.
Then he strips the air from my lungs by plunging his fingers deep inside of me. The sensation is shocking, but in the best way possible.
The way he massages me is mind-blowing.
I toss my head back, my hair spilling down my back and tickling my spine, as my fingers claw desperately at his skin. I’m probably scratching him, but he isn’t reacting. He’s too busy driving me insane.
My body arches without permission, a soft, broken sound tearing from my throat as sensation overwhelms thought. Everything narrows to heat and pressure, and the way Jesse is everywhere all at once, calming and unmaking me in the same breath.
I clutch at him desperately, trying to keep myself upright. The hallway tilts. My pulse roars in my ears.
I’m acutely aware of how exposed this is—the open space, the thin walls, the fact that anyone could walk in at any moment.
I don’t care. That’s the most frightening part.
“Jesse,” I gasp. “I…”
I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. Slow down. Don’t stop. This is insane. Don’t stop.
He stills, his breath ragged, his restraint visibly fraying.
“Abilene,” he murmurs, wrecked, hanging on by his fingernails. “Tell me if this isn’t okay.”
It is.
I nod frantically, my hands sliding back into his hair, pulling him closer instead of answering with words. The movement breaks him.
His mouth crashes back to mine, hungry and unrestrained now.
My legs feel weak. My whole body hums, oversensitive and alive in a way I haven’t felt in years. I’m painfully aware of how flushed I must look, how breathless, how undone.
This is not who I am.
Except… maybe it is.
Jesse’s body presses closer, and I forget everything else. The fire, the cabin, the men down the hall, the careful life I’ve built around myself.
There’s only this.
Heat.
Want.
The very real knowledge that I’m about to cross a line I can’t uncross.
And then…
A floorboard creaks with a step.
My eyes fly open. Jesse freezes. Time snaps back into place with brutal clarity.
Marshall stands at the end of the hallway.
Hat in his hand. Shoulders squared. Expression stoic but sharp enough to cut. His gaze takes everything in at once.
The way Jesse is still too close, the way my hands are still gripping his shirt, the way my lips are swollen and my breath is embarrassingly uneven.
The silence is deafening.
“Oh shit,” I gasp, horror flooding in.
Heat drains from my body so fast it’s dizzying. My face burns. My chest tightens.
Jesse steps back instantly, hands lifting like he’s been caught doing something illegal. “Marshall—”
“I was checkin’ the perimeter,” Marshall says evenly. Too evenly. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Interrupt.
The word lands like a slap.
Shame crashes over me, hot and merciless, magnified by the fact that my body is still very much aware of Jesse standing there.
Of what we were doing. Of how far gone I felt seconds ago.
“I… I’m sorry,” I blurt, mortified beyond reason.
I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.
Wanting.
Being seen wanting.
This is exactly the kind of situation I never get myself into.
I don’t wait for anything else to be said.
I bolt down the hall, heart hammering, bare feet slapping softly against the floor. I shove into my room and slam the door, leaning against it as if my legs might give out.
My hands are shaking.
My mouth still tingles.
My body is buzzing with heat that has nowhere to go.
What did I just do?
I slide down to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped around myself like I can physically contain the mess I’ve made.
Tears sting my eyes, sharp with embarrassment and frustration and something that feels dangerously like longing.
I never do this.
I never lose control.
I never let myself get caught in moments that can’t be explained away.
And now Marshall has seen me like that. Flushed, breathless, tangled up with Jesse in a hallway like I’ve lost my damn mind.
I press my bee pendant into my palm
Get it together, Abilene.
You don’t do messy. You don’t do reckless.
You don’t do men who make you forget who you are.
But my body doesn’t listen. My heart doesn’t listen.
Because even as I sit there, cheeks burning, emotions spilling over, one truth is impossible to ignore:
Whatever just happened out there wasn’t a mistake.