But when he drew her a fraction closer, her body betrayed her, relaxing against his like it belonged there.
The fiddles lifted again, the crowd around them cheering, clapping, spinning each other in fast circles. But Zoe and Jackson stayed in their own world, moving as though time had thinned to just them, their rhythm different from everyone else’s.
Zoe tilted her head back to look at him. His eyes flicked to her mouth.
He wasn’t kissing her, not yet, but the moment swelled with the certainty of one. And when the song shifted and couples began turning out to switch partners, she felt a flare of panic at the thought of leaving his arms.
Jackson’s grip tightened slightly, possessive, steadying. His mouth brushed her ear as he leaned down.
“Fresh air?” he murmured.
Zoe nodded, her heart in her throat. Together they slipped away from the lantern glow, crossing into the grove of cherry trees at the edge of the property. Pink blossoms were thick in the tree branches, fluttering down in the breeze and catching Zoe’s hair, brushing her shoulders. The night hummed around them, alive with crickets and the fading notes of the music.
And in the hush of that hidden place under the cherry blossom, with the scent of spring thick in the air and the warmth of Jackson’s hand still lingering at her waist, the line between pretend and real began to blur all over again.
She shouldn’t want him to touch her.
She should be protecting her heart.
But when it was just the two of them, alone with their thoughts and desires, whatever line they’d drawn between them was gone. And soon there would be no going back.
TWENTY-EIGHT
JACKSON
Friday, March 21st
Jackson didn’t know where they were going as he pulled them out from under the cherry trees. All he knew was that there were too many people nearby, and he didn’t want to share this moment with Zoe with anyone else. He wasn’t thinking about how bad of an idea this was.
Zoe clasped his hand, letting him guide her away from the glow of lanterns and the hum of music. He moved with long, purposeful strides, his heart hammering, her heels clicking against the pavement as she hurried to keep up.
“Stop—wait—where are we going?” she asked between laughs, breath catching on the words.
Jackson turned and suddenly she was right there in front of him, the chiffon of her dress brushing against his legs, the pink blossoms in her hair trembling. They’d stopped just outside her flower shop; he could see the desire in his eyes in the glass window behind her.
“Somewhere I can do this,” he murmured. Jackson knew this time was different. This wasn’t him getting swept up in the moment. This was him disregarding the reasons why theycouldn’t be together. None of those had gone away; they both knew that. But he was making a conscious decision to let go with her, just for tonight.
His hand slid up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing along the softness of her jaw. Her skin was warm, silken, and the tremor beneath it made his chest tighten. He bent, closing the distance, and kissed her.
Her lips parted under his, soft and pliant, and he deepened the kiss. She tasted of strawberries, champagne, and something that was just Zoe. His hand slid to the back of her neck, and when she gave the faintest sigh against his mouth, it nearly undid him.
She fisted his shirt, clutching it in both hands like she was afraid he might pull away. The intensity of it made him chuckle into the kiss, though his body was far from calm. She wanted this as badly as he did; the same heat was surging through their veins.
He angled his mouth over hers, claiming her again, slower this time—savoring the slide of her lips, the way she lifted up on her toes to meet him. His tongue brushed hers, tentative at first, then deeper when she answered with a needy sound that made his cock throb against his suit pants.
If they weren’t careful, they’d start something right here in the middle of Oak Way. The street was deserted, the whole town at the wedding, but he wasn’t going to press Zoe against the glass of her flower shop no matter how frayed his self-control was.
He pulled back, breathing hard. Zoe’s lips were kiss-swollen, her eyes wide and shimmering, burning desire written plain across her face—a mirror of everything he was feeling.
“Jackson…” Her voice was breathless. “Let’s go somewhere else…”
Jackson was surprised when she led him across the street. He thought maybe they would just head upstairs to her apartment.He still wanted to lean her against the back of the couch, or maybe toss her onto her bed and cover her body with his, the weight of the mattress dipping around them. He imagined the heat of a shower after, Zoe slick and soapy in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted her against the tile wall to take her again. He had wanted her for so long that the fantasies stacked one on top of another until he could hardly breathe. Tonight, he wouldn’t think about tomorrow, or the rules, the line he’d insisted they never cross. None of that mattered. Couple of the Year, the planned break-up. None of it.
Tonight was about surrender, letting her in, just as she’d asked for. She knew, just as he did, that he still wasn’t ready for a real relationship. But maybe he would be one day, and whatever happened next, this would be one blissful night. Raw, beautiful passion—everything he’d buried, finally breaking free.
“I want this to be as wild as this feels,” she whispered, pulling him toward the lake.
It was darker, down by the water. The only light came from the moonlight, reflected in silver beams across the rolling waves of the water. Along the bank, a stand of weeping willows swayed in the breeze; their branches danced to the rhythm of the soft wind. Zoe led him there—toward the largest tree, its canopy spilling around them like a curtain.
