Holding On To Heaven (Allendale Four 2)

“Family obligations suck. I get that.”

Jackson stretched out his legs and leaned back on his hands. I moved quickly, climbing into his lap. My skirt was flouncy. There was little between us but the cotton of my panties and the fabric of his shorts. Running my hands over his broad, firm chest, I leaned in, kissing his neck. He squirmed, laughing and grabbing for my hands, but I fought back, nibbling my way to his collarbone. It was no surprise when I felt him grow beneath me, followed by darkening and intensifying of his gray eyes.

He pushed the sweater off my shoulders and ran his hands down my arms, then touched my chin. “You’re so beautiful.”

I kissed him again, this time on the mouth, darting my tongue against his. The spot between my legs grew warm, wet, and I pressed against him, wanting to feel the heat.

Jackson and I had done many things together, but we hadn’t gone all the way. Not yet. But now that we cleared the air—that I wasn’t some fragile piece of china ready to break—we could take the next step.

I pushed him on his back and tugged my dress over my head. I hadn’t worn a bra and his eyes widened, drinking me in. His fingers reached out but stopped inches away from my skin. “Are you sure about this? Outdoors? Because I’ll stop right now and take you to a fancy hotel with a soft mattress and cushy pillows and room service and all that shit if you want.”

I took his hands—both of them—and placed them on my breasts. “You promised me. No more playing it safe. I don’t want any of those things. I just want you.”

He nodded and squeezed, sending a jolt through my body. I tipped my head back, loving the way his hands felt against my body.

“I know you’ve wanted to do things to me,” I said, my voice clear in the quiet night. “Don’t hold back, Jax. Not now.”

He sat up with a jolt, mouth crushed against mine. His fingers pushed at the lacy strip of fabric at my hip, tugging until I stood, straddling his legs, to get them off.

“Don’t let me fall,” I laughed, steadying myself by touching his head.

“Never.”

He took his time, peeling them off inch by inch, blazing a trail down my legs with his fingers and lips. I stepped out of each side and the panties dropped to the dock, and I jerked in surprise when his hands moved to my backside, stroking my ass.

“Hey,” I said, pushing at his shoulders. “Not fair leaving me up here. With nothing to do.”

He ignored me, kissing one hip bone before traveling to the other, his mouth lingering over the sensitive skin. His lips brushed over my belly and my face heated with how close he was—how intimate we were. I stood naked on the dock, fully exposed, inexplicably trusting, with a million stars overhead. My knees buckled when I felt his breath between my legs. Breathless and shaking, I wove my fingers into his thick hair. My wobbly legs were held up with the one hand exploring my back side, while his other spread my legs wider.

“Is it cheesy if I say that you taste like heaven?” he asked, laughing over his words. I grunted in reply, unable to speak coherently. His tongue was hot, wicked; igniting a burning deep inside of me

that I never imagined. Jackson kissed and sucked, taking me to the edge of the edge.

I blinked and caught my breath, tugging hard at his hair and forcing him to look at me.

“I want you inside of me. I want you to come inside of me.”

He licked his lips, surely tasting me on them, and he pulled off his shorts, revealing his erection. His cock bobbed with freedom and he didn’t hesitate—I didn’t hesitate, easing down on his length.

“Goddam,” he muttered into my hair. He filled me up—different than Anderson—and I liked this position. I really liked it. Sitting on his lap, eye-to-eye, mouth-to-mouth. There was no escaping the intimacy; the little pants that came with every roll of my hips. Every groan he buried in my shoulder. The rhythm was different this way—I was most certainly in control, although he’d pushed me so close to the edge that it only took a moment and his strong hand palming my tit that I came in a writhing mess while he continued to thrust.

My body contracted around him and his movement turned erratic, desperate and messy. His hips thrust upward and his hands gripped me like a man holding on for dear life. The strong line of his jaw tensed, all while mumbling my name and when he came, god how he came, I was still quivering, shuddering—feeling the exhilaration over every inch of my hot, prickly skin.

Jackson wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear, “Who knew I’d score two home runs at this park.”

I couldn’t help but laugh because damn, he was a fool. But he was my fool. When we parted, sticky with the residue of our lovemaking and the heat between our bodies, I watched as he stood over me, naked, ripped, and proud.

“You know what would make this even better?” he asked.

I shook my head, because nothing would make this better. It was already the best.

He offered me a hand and before I got all the way off the ground I realized what was happening.

“A swim.”

“Jackson, no!”

We were airborne in a heartbeat and he smiled as we crashed into the water.