“Dirty mind,” he corrects, dipping his head to capture my breast in his mouth. He sucks my nipple, his tongue brushing against the now hard peak.
“Dirty mind,” I relent in agreement.
“Dirty mind,” he repeats as he releases my nipple and moves toward the other. He presses kisses across my chest. “It’s one of the things about you I like most.”
He likes me?My body freezes at his words.
He can’t mean that.
Can he?
I force myself to breathe so he won’t sense my inner panic and stop what he’s doing. I’m overreacting. I know I am. He said like, not love. Besides, Jackson Wilder isn’t going to fall in love—not with me.
Get over yourself, Rosalie.
Jackson stops kissing my body. He pushes up on one elbow and studies me.
“Hey, what happened? Where’d you go?”
“What?” I play off his concern. There’s no way in hell I’m about to tell him my thoughts. I sit up and glance around.
“Rosalie?” Jackson’s brows furrow. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine.” My reply comes out more defensively than I intend. I move off the hay bales to retrieve my clothes.
“Whoa.” Jackson’s brows rise as he sits up. His gaze is searching as he follows my movements across the room. “Is it something I did? Something you didn’t like? You can tell me.”
“So, this may come as a shock.” I force myself to laugh, but I feel no joy. “But not everything is about you.”
There. I find my shirt. It’s wet and dirty, but I have semen leaking down my back. I’ll shower when I get back inside.
“What just happened here?” Jackson hops off the hay bales.
“What do you mean?”
I pull the wet clothing over my head and wiggle my body back into my shirt, praying my expression doesn’t betray the worry inside my head when our gazes meet.
“We were having a good time.” Jackson steps forward. “Weren’t we?”
“Yeah.” I can’t deny that. I won’t make him feel bad about what we did. This isn’t about that. It’s about what he said. It’s about my inability to let anyone get too close.
“But something switched.”
“Look, I don’t know what you want from me.” I yank on my underwear and face him again. “We fucked. It was fun. That’s it. I’m just not that into cuddling.” The lie tastes bitter on my mouth as soon as it leaves my lips. The truth is, everything about this felt too real—too good—and even now Jackson is looking at me as if he can see the chinks in my armor. “We should get back inside while there’s a break in the rain.” I nod toward the house.
I expect him to push back. Or to make me feel bad for abruptly ending our time on the hay. Instead, he nods, gathering up the rest of the wet clothes and shoes as if none of this is out of the ordinary.
“We should rescue Darcy, too.”
He flashes me a smile as he hands over one of my socks. It’s an olive branch. He’s ignoring my coldness. He’s letting me off the hook.
My chest tightens as guilt wedges its way into my heart. I shouldn’t push him away. He doesn’t deserve my mistreatment. Especially after doing all of this.
“Oh, shit!” Jackson’s eyes fly wide open and he turns to me. “I got so carried away, I never got to show you the audience.”
“Audience?” The change of topic has my brain scrambling to catch up.
“Rosalie, this is a sex club,” he deadpans. “What would a sex club be without voyeurs?” His eyes drift over my shoulder.
