He leans against the bathroom door frame, his bicep swelling next to his face, one eyebrow cocked. “What, you don’t likehoney?”
“I do not.”
A smile rises on his lips. “What aboutsugar? Ooh, I know,sweet tits?
“Call me any of those things, and I can’t guarantee you’ll be waking up in the morning.”
He stares at me for a moment, blue eyes sparkling, then laughs—his dimples surfacing—before closing the bathroom door without another word.
21
Maverick
When I finish up in the bathroom, Jackson is lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, teetering so close to the edge it looks like he’s about to fall off any second.
I could be emotionally drained from the day, or it could be my energy levels spiking after that ginormous sugar intake, but I don’t have it in me to be mad about it. It just wouldn’t be Jackson if he did the easy, logical thing, like, say, lying slightly closer to the middle of the bed like a normal person.
I toss my old clothes into the corner and cross the room. “I’m getting in.”
“Thanks for the warning” is his flat reply.
He still isn’t looking at me as he folds his lean, toned arms across his chest. A few loose threads of his undershirt’s gray sleeves brush against the tanned skin of his shoulders.
“Don’t want you falling over, that’s all. You know, you can move in a tiny bit closer. I don’t bite…unless you want me to.”
His nose twitches. “No, I do not, and I’ll be fine. Just hurry up and get in already.”
“You always this bossy?” I say, chuckling lightly. “Good thing I don’t mind being told what to do. In or out of bed.”
Our eyes meet.
Then…his dip lower.
Oops, did I forget to wear a shirtagain?
At least I was discreet when I checked him out when he stretched after our marathon sofa session. Jackson was shameless when he ogled me waiting for the shower, and he’s equally shameless now, his green eyes raking me up and down my body in just my blue Zimmerli pajama shorts.
“Suit yourself, then,” I say, peeling back the top cover and hopping into bed like I normally would, not making any effortto minimize mattress bounce. He manages to hang on, but after a few seconds, he shifts away from the very side of the bed and slightly closer to me.
I make myself comfortable as I think about what to do next. Jackson has already turned his bedside lamp off, but I’m not ready for this night to be over yet. I wish I hadn’t done so much yakking. Not because I regret anything I said, but because I didn’t get a chance to find out more about him.
He’s still such a mystery.
I sneak a glance his way. His profile is illuminated by the golden glow of my bedside lamp. His upturned nose. His plump lips. Those freckles I can barely make out in the dim light but know are there.
My dick is definitely eager to keep the night going, too, but since I’m getting zero signs of interest from Jackson, I think the best course of action is to call it a night.
I turn off my light. “G’night, Jackson.”
“Night, Benson.”
A frown forms as darkness settles over the room. I wish he’d stop calling me that. He doesn’t do it all the time, but whenever he does, it creates a distance between us I don’t like.
With all the sugar coursing through my veins, there’s no way in hell I’ll be falling asleep anytime soon. It’s wild to think I’m sharing a bed with a guy who can’t stand me. And while it’s slightly annoying that we’ve been captured like prisoners, the whole situationiskind of funny if you think about it.
A quiet chuckle breaks past my lips.
“What?” Jackson asks.
