A slow grin broke over Kash’s face. “You got played, bud,” he said.
Jackson narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring, which only made it funnier. “You little snake. I can’t believe you’d take advantage of my good nature.”
Leah snickered. “Your good nature? Jax, the cutthroat property developer?”
Kash laughed. “OK, children. Let’s call it a draw and break open the whiskey.”
The joking around was essential. She had to keep it light.
Finding her footing again after this morning’s kiss had felt like trying to stand upright in a waltzer car. The feel of Jackson’s mouth on hers, his hands gripping her waist like he was only just stopping himself from crushing her bones, had played on a loop in her mind all afternoon. He’d made her want. He’d made her greedy. But was he regretting it now the hot-blooded haze had faded?
Though she’d thought it might be harder to talk him into joining her for dinner with the boys, he’d caved quickly. With his shorts and pale blue tee the complete opposite of his pristine weekday nine-to-five attire, Jackson was revealing careful, unguarded flashes of himself as the evening progressed. Not quite relaxed, there was still a remote edge to him that he wasn’t comfortable enough to shed. But she was starting to see that he needed friends. He needed people on his side.
Leah couldn’t let herself dwell on what she needed or her wayward emotions would slip their leash, and that could get messy.
Putting the game away, they settled down to watch an action thriller, newly out on Netflix—Sam and Kash on one couch, Leah and Jackson on the other. The soft glow of a lamp cast a low light over the room and she delighted in the silent war over the remote as Sam ramped the volume up and Kash turned it down. Leah snuggled into the cushions as the heat of the day tailed off. She’d brought a cardigan to pull on if she needed it, but Jackson, radiating warmth next to her, made that unnecessary. Curling her legs underneath her, she swirled her glass and sipped, the small measure of whiskey making her bones as loose as molten syrup.
When Jackson stretched an arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushed her shoulder. Whether on purpose or by accident, she couldn’t tell. Regardless, a delicious shiver played leapfrog along Leah’s spine.
“You cold?” Jackson asked, grabbing a folded blanket without waiting for her reply. He spread the fleecy softness over her legs.
“Thanks, Jax.”
His lips tilted briefly, his eyes intense pools of... what? She couldn’t read them. He turned back to the screen.
“Where’s my blanket?” Sam grumbled to his partner. “Guys get cold, too.”
“Blankets are a gateway drug to furry onesies.” Kash patted his knee. “I’m saving you from yourself.”
Jackson returned his arm to the couch cushions, his hand sliding lightly to the back of Leah’s neck and resting there like a warm compress. This guy did not do cold. She swallowed, sighed, and swallowed again when he began to trace a slow, looping circle beneath her hair. The pad of his thumb was wide and rough, his eyes fixed to the screen. Only Jackson’s fingers moved, gently grazing, softly stroking, mapping the contours of her neck with his fingertips. Around and around they traveled, up and down the same few inches of spine.
The movie’s hero escaped from a police cell with a ballpoint pen and a straw, only to be stabbed in the ribs by a shoddy assassin. Leah was beginning to lose focus.
“You know what this movie needs?” Her voice sounded husky.
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“A tidal wave.”
“Or a giant squid.” Laughter lurked beneath Jackson’s suggestion.
“Yes, that.” Leah nodded.
“You two need help,” Kash muttered.
Deciding what they actually all needed was popcorn, Sam paused the action and climbed to his feet.
“I’ll pop. You always burn it. You can grab the bowls.” Kash’s voice trailed away as they disappeared into the kitchen, bickering quietly.
The silence left behind in the living room was absolute. Leah’s pulse hitched. She ran her tongue over dry lips, trying to find the courage to turn a few degrees to her left; never had geometry required such bravery. Jackson reached out to help, cupping the back of her neck again and applying a little, gentle pressure. On a shaky breath, she angled her shoulders to face him.
Her reward came instantly.
He shifted nearer, his eyes, so dark they were almost navy, blistering her skin like a desert sirocco. The scent of shampoo and whiskey tickled Leah’s nose. Unsmiling, though far from grim, he was dangerous and devilish in one very sexy, veryclosepackage. Jackson’s mouth met hers in a brush so light it almost tickled. One touch, then another. So completely different to the blazing chaos of their earlier kiss that Leah clamped down on a whimper. He licked it from her upper lip, then drew the lower one between his teeth. Her mouth opened to his tongue. She leaned into him, a hand against the front of his t-shirt. His breath came harder beneath her palm and herfingers twitched. Desperate to explore, they slid to his shoulders and down to his elbows. Reaching Jackson’s forearms, she found sinews strung tight beneath her grip. Leah curled her nails into his skin and reveled at the low growl that emerged from his throat.
His nose bumped hers. His hand closed around the nape of her neck, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin just below one ear. Leah bowed into his touch, gripping his wrists to anchor herself. And still, Jackson kept their kiss light, taking small bites of her lips, teasing them both. She wanted more. Wanted him to touch her everywhere.
In the kitchen, the microwave pinged. There was the clatter of bowls on the countertop, more banter between Sam and Kash. Jackson drew back, breaking their kiss. How he managed to stay so attuned to their surroundings, she had no idea. She was one reckless move away from jumping his bones. His breath was choppy. Neither of them spoke.
