“Okay,” I whisper like an idiot.
He lifts his head from mine, his smile triumphant while carefully setting me on my feet. We don’t say a word as I finish unlocking the door and slowly open it, letting him in first. It’s dark inside, not even a lamp left on, which is fine. I have my flashlight on my phone and I can make my way around the place without running into furniture.
I’m still not that familiar with my new home, but I’m getting there.
It’s a four bedroom, and I have three other roommates. All girls I don’t know, but so far, we get along okay. I’m not necessarily close to any of them yet, and the arrangement we have is nice, since we don’t share a bedroom, so at least we each have some privacy.
Tonight, in this very moment, I’m very, very glad Jackson and I will have privacy. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be happening.
I shut and lock the door before I lead him to my bedroom upstairs. The townhouse is tri-level, with two bedrooms on the top floor, the common living space on the second, and two other bedrooms on the bottom. Jackson follows me up the stairs closely, nearly bumping into me, and I wonder if he’s just eager, or only trying to remind me that he’s there. Maybe a combo of both?
Or maybe I’m just overthinking things as usual.
Cracking open my door, I’m about to quietly sneak inside, but Jackson pushes at the door instead, making us both barrel in. He shuts the door for me and turns the lock, an ominous sound in the otherwise quiet room.
I swallow hard when he hits the light switch and the overhead light comes on. The hungry expression on his face as he studies me, and I feel decidedly lacking.
“Uh, I need to change first.” I glance down at my dirty clothes.
“You won’t need to change,” he says with a wicked smile.
“Can I at least shower?”
“Did you dip yourself into a vat of barbecue sauce?” he asks. “Or maybe ranch? Spill a gallon of beer on your shirt?
“What?” I frown. “No. Well, maybe a half gallon of beer.”
He laughs, and it is the best sound. “Then you don’t need to take a shower.”
“I might smell,” I tell him as he makes his way toward me.
“I’m willing to take my chances.”
“You should turn off the light.”
His gaze darkens. “I want to see everything.”
Oh. Shit.
I mean, I want to see everything too. It’s Jackson, after all. But I’m nervous. Self-conscious.
“Please?” I whisper.
He stops in front of me, huffs out a breath and goes back to the door, where the light switch is. He hits it again, shutting the lights off before he walks past me and turns on the lamp that sits on my bedside table.
“Compromise?” he asks, lifting his brows.
I give a jerky nod, fighting the nerves that suddenly swarm me.
After I drop my keys and my phone on the bedside table, he wraps me up in his arms and just holds me for a moment. The two of us standing beside the bed, not saying anything. I cling to him because I can, absorbing his heat and his scent and his strength. Everything about him, I want.
I’m nervous though. So nervous. And worried. Having him in my bedroom is sending a message. Things are going to another level between us, and I hope I don’t regret it.
God, I’m so scared I’ll regret it.
His lips touch my forehead. My temple. He’s breathing me in; I can hear him inhale. I tighten my arms around him, taking advantage of this position, enjoying the sensation of his strong arms wrapped around me. I could stand like this for hours and not complain.
He reaches for me, his fingers coming under my chin, exerting gentle pressure. I lift my head up to find he’s already watching me. His eyes aren’t so full of hunger anymore. There’s something else there. I can’t quite figure out what it is. Maybe nerves, like me?