Facing each other in the middle of the hallway, the air is heavy with expectation.
Jackie holds herself back, letting me set the script. Her throat flexes with her swallow, and I can barely stop myself from devouring her right here in the hallway.
Last time we crashed into each other in a tempest of fury, consumed by the current, oblivious to the consequences. Now, it’s a choice.
In this hundred-year-old home, it all feels like a dream, so I reach out, asking for permission. Waiting.
Is she as scared as I am? Of wanting something so badly, it feels like your skin can’t stretch enough to hold it?
And she reaches back. After a moment of hesitation, she places her palm over mine, and I step back, opening the door to my room.
In front of the golden embroidered bed, the room feels like stepping into another world. A place where we can pretend the past isn’t standing between us like a wall.
I pull her close, and she leans in without reserve. Towering over her, I cup her jaw, thumb caressing her lower lip. I follow the line down her throat, my hand gliding to the space between her breasts.
She bites her lip, looking uncertain. “Aren’t you still mad at me?”
I blink. The question slices through the haze of want.
“It was always on your terms.” I exhale, hands still hovering. “Am I still hurt enough that I definitely shouldn’t want to fuck you against every surface in this ridiculous room?” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “I am.”
Her palm rests gently over my chest as she inches closer.
“But I’ve never been able to put myself first when it comes to you. You’re my first and only choice, Jackie. And you always will be.”
A sudden clarity washes over her features, and her breath shudders. After a beat, she whispers, “I miss who I was when I was with you.”
With every layer she peels open for me, I get a glimpse of the girl I fell in love with. My heart twists, aching for the closeness we once shared.
“I want to feel that again,” she whispers over my lips. “I want this. I want you.”
This moment shouldn’t be rushed. But she’s so close. I’m shaking with the effort to hold it all in.
This time, when my lips glide across hers, there’s no anger in it. Instead, every stolen sigh, every stroke, is painted in regret.
For not following her.
For letting go when I should’ve fought harder.
For not noticing that I’d lost her long before she walked away. Because without trust, there was never going to be a future.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
JACKIE
With every kiss, we fall deeper into each other. Our hands explore, caressing, roaming, grasping at every inch of skin.
He backs me into the windowsill, the glass cold against my back.
My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel him. Warm lips brand my neck, palms sliding down my sides. He touches me like he’s forgotten he ever hated me. Does this mean he’s accepted my apology? That he’s moved past everything?
Maybe this isn’t forgiveness. Maybe it’s just muscle memory. But my body doesn’t know the difference, and right now, neither do I.
I pull back for a second to catch my breath before I get too lost in this rush.
We’re both panting, Adam’s gaze burning, skin flushed.
While I compose myself, my gaze catches on the bathroom in the corner of the room.
