It Started with a Kiss - Page 42

I slide my hand up his chest and around his neck again. I’m not used to always having someone around, but I think I could, especially Jackson. “Want to celebrate?”

“At eleven at night?”

“I didn’t know you were such an old man, Jackson. You do realize it’s Friday, don’t you?”

The realization hits his expression as his arms tighten around me. “Fuck, that totally slipped my mind. It’s been a week. I’m sorry. I was thinking I had to go into the office in the morning.”

“It’s okay. It should be good news that you don’t.”

“It is,” he says, smiling. He leans down and kisses me as if I’m the fresh air he needs to reset for the weekend. “Really good news.”

“Dinner with Cammie was fun.” I take a breath and fold against him, resting my eyes. “But I’m too tired to go out tonight.”

His big hands slide under my shirt and unclasp my bra. I giggle. “When you asked me if I wanted to celebrate . . .” A kiss is placed on my head and one to that spot behind my ear that awakens the goose bumps on my arms. “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking that maybe we could take a break from the work and reconnect.”

He slides a hand around to the front of my baggy sweatpants. Technically, they’re his, but he didn’t say anything when I plucked them from his closet earlier. So I now think that makes them mine.

Back to his hand . . .

As he kisses my neck, I roll my head to the side. He whispers, “No underwear?”

I reply with a shrug but gasp as soon as his fingers find my clit. My throat thickens as I lift so he can go deeper. Doesn’t matter that we’re in the living room with no window coverings. A lot of New Yorkers are into the exhibition of it all. At least a little.

There’s nothing that the outside world can see. To them, it looks like Jackson is embracing me. To me, I’m about to come on his hand if he keeps touching me like this.

His cologne lingers on his skin, and I inhale him, taste him, need more of him when I press my mouth to his neck. My grip is tight, but I already feel so close to the edge of ecstasy. My breathing is heavy in my chest, and when his fingers enter me, I lift higher onto the balls of my feet to give him better access.

“Jackson.” His name is a murmur that I chant as my throat goes dry and my body wet for him. He pumps faster without a reprieve until I lose my hold on him and this reality, chasing the tremors zipping through my body until I moan in his ear, and then I’m scooped into the air.

There are no seconds or minutes before he’s filling me. We’re just bonded instantly.

Kisses.

Thrusts.

Moans.

Breaths.

Every move and thought becomes only about us. Just like always.

We rock together and apart until we’re falling onto the bed, our bodies weak and depleted.

Throwing my arms wide from under him, I kiss his cheek. “Promise me it will always be like this.”

“God, yes,” he says, rolling beside me.

“You don’t have to use the formal title. You can just call me sweetheart.”

He chuckles and looks at me. “Did you just think of that comeback?”

I know he’s teasing me, but I answer honestly. “No, I’ve had it pocketed, waiting for the perfect time to unleash it. How’d I do?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He kisses my chest. “The comeback wasn’t bad either.”

We take turns in the bathroom and then return, ready for bed. Call us boring, but I don’t mind turning in early when it’s with him.

It takes a few minutes before his body eases, which makes me happy to see. The man is all brawn and brain. He works hard and carries so much tension in his body that I like when peace takes over his face. I eventually turn toward the window with my back to his chest. But a few minutes later, I roll to my back and turn my head to face him.

Jackson is so attractive that I don’t think I’ll ever not stare when I get the chance. I smirk. What have we gotten ourselves into? And then I remember how Cammie was worried about the size of her baby and nudge Jackson. “How big were you at birth?”

His eyes fly open. “Where did that come from?”

Cammie’s worried about Cade, but she’s right. Jackson’s bigger all around, like a giant. How the hell did his mom birth him. “Like length and weight. Did you have a big head?”

“What the fuck, Marlow? Why are we talking about this?”

“Cammie’s pregnant.”

He lifts up on his elbow, his head nudged forward and jaw dropped. “Cammie’s pregnant? I just talked to Cade today. The asshole didn’t say anything.”

Tags: S.L. Scott Erotic
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