“Because you like it, Blazey,” he whispered.
“No. I don’t.”
He spun me again, and my words fell on deaf ears when our lips met.
“Jackson, you have to stop treating me like this.”
“What the fuck do you want to hear?” he slurred without interrupting the kiss. Our tongues mingled in the throes of unbridled passion.
“Why do you treat me like shit in front of everyone?”
“Because I can’t stand the way you look at me,” he moaned, biting my lip.
On the one hand I would’ve loved to keep kissing him forever; on the other hand I wanted to make things clear.
I pushed him away.
I saw his eyes gleaming with determination, but I wanted to hold my ground even if it was a battle I was fighting against my own will.
“But you’re always the one who comes to me, Jackson,” I challenged. He furrowed his brow.
“What do you want to hear? That I can’t stay away from you?”
“That’s what you’re showing me. Aren’t you sick of all this?”
Jackson ran his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat. He was embarrassed. “Sick of what?”
“The lies, the hiding,” I declared.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He lunged toward me again, and I pushed him back, putting my palms on his warm chest.
“Me and you.”
“I’m not like you.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“So you’d pull away if I kissed you again?”
That made him laugh. “You’re the one who can’t resist me.” His swollen lips brushed against my ear, sending a chill down my spine. “Oh, Blazey.”
I felt something throb in my boxers when he sucked on my earlobe.
“Do your friends know?” I gathered all my strength to push him away and repressed the instinct to kiss him again.
“What? That I want to fuck you, sweetheart? No, they don’t fucking know,” he panted. “And it’s none of their business.”
“Are you embarrassed by me?”
Jackson burst out laughing. He sounded like a kid, but his words were sharp daggers that plunged into my heart.
“So what? So what if I’m embarrassed of you?”
I backed away decisively this time. “You know what? You’re not embarrassed of me, Jackson. You’re embarrassed of yourself.”
