“The way you walk into a room and just…own it.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Makes the rest of us look like we’re standing still.”
“You flirting with me, Morgan?” I teased.
“You would know if I was,” he said, voice low. “But no. It’s just the truth.”
My cheeks warmed. I typed another line I wouldn’t remember later. He walked off down the hallway and I tried to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. But my body was remembering what it was like to want and I had a feeling we were both happily marching to the edge of a cliff. So, the question wasn’twhat if… but when.
? Jackson ?
The soft glow of the television painted shifting blue shadows across Holly’s face. Some forgettable comedy movie played on, scenes I had long since ceased to pay attention to. A month. A month of shared coffee, of folded laundry, of her scent on my pillow. A month of a peace so profound it felt like a held breath. A month of watching her move through our shared space, a ghost of the girl I’d left, now a woman whose every curve and sigh was a geography I was desperate to map.
My hand, resting on the couch cushion between us, twitched. The domestic rhythm was a sweet torture. All I could think about was our last night under the stars. The feel of her under me, her breathy little moans. A memory worn smooth by ages of lonely, desperate recollection. Now, the reality of her was here. Thevanilla-and-cinnamon scent of her skin. The soft sound of her breathing. The way her lower lip caught between her teeth when she was concentrating on whatever task was at hand.
The craving was a physical ache, a wire pulled taut from my sternum to my groin. I couldn’t wait another second. I turned, the leather of the couch creaking under me. She glanced over, a small, curious smile on her lips. That curiosity turned to the old, familiar fire when she saw the look on my face. An unspoken challenge. My expression must have been raw, stripped bare. I saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes, then the shadow of old fear.
“Can I help you, Marine?”
I didn’t speak. Words were sand in my mouth. I just reached for her, my hand cradling the back of her neck, my thumb stroking the frantic pulse under her jaw. I leaned in, stopping a breath away. Letting her see the want, the near-violent need, before I gave in to it.My mouth found hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. A release of over a year’s worth of hunger. She gasped against my lips, her hands flying up to my shoulders, not pushing away, but clutching. Anchoring. I tasted the wine she’d had with dinner, the unique, sweet flavor that was justher. A groan tore from my chest, and I deepened the kiss, my tongue sweeping into her mouth, learning her all over again.
When I broke for air, we were both panting. Her eyes were wide, dark pools in the dim light. “Holly,” I rasped, my voice unrecognizable. “I need…I need to taste you. I need to hear you. I needeverything.”
I saw the war in her eyes. The history. The man who’d taken something from her that I’d spent years trying to help her rebuild. My heart hammered against my ribs.I should stop. I should pull back.
But then she spoke, her voice trembling but clear. “I want to know what it’s like,” she whispered. “To be craved like that.Don’t be gentle, Jackson. Not tonight. Use me.Show me what it’s like to be yours so completely it burns.”
Her words were a detonation. Any last shred of hesitation incinerated. I stood, pulling her up with me, and in one motion, swept her into my arms. My damn leg protested but I paid it no mind. She let out a small, surprised sound, her arms looping around my neck. I carried her the short distance to our bedroom, the movie’s soundtrack fading into meaningless noise.
I laid her on the bed, following her down, my body covering hers. My mouth was everywhere. Trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, nipping at her collarbone, laving the swell of her breasts above her t-shirt. I pulled the soft cotton up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her bra followed. I took one tight, pink nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, my tongue circling the peak. She cried out, her back arching off the mattress, her fingers tangling in my hair.
“If you need to stop,” I growled against her damp skin, my hand sliding down her stomach to the waistband of her sleep shorts. “Any second. Just say the word. Any word.And I stop. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her hips lifting to help me peel the shorts and her panties down her legs. “I’m good. Promise. Show me what you’ve got.”
God, I had missed her. That wicked tongue, that sharp mind. I kissed my way down her quivering stomach, over the gentle curve of her hip, along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Her scent, musky and sweet, filled my senses.I’d dreamed of this. I settled between her legs, my hands spreading her wide for me. She was already glistening, flushed and beautiful. I didn’t tease. I lowered my mouth and licked a long, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit.
Her whole body jerked. A sharp, broken moan ripped from her throat.Music.I did it again, flattening my tongue, savoringher taste—tangy, addictive,Holly. I found her clit with the tip of my tongue and circled it, slowly, deliberately. Her thighs trembled against my ears. Her hands fisted in the sheets.
“Jackson… oh, god…”
I built her up with relentless focus. My tongue flicked and pressed, my lips sucked. I slid two fingers inside her, curling them, finding that spot that made her shriek. Her hips began to buck in a ragged rhythm, her breathing coming in sharp, desperate gasps. I could feel her tightening around my fingers, her body coiling like a spring. She was close. So close. I pulled my mouth away.
She made some sort of noise that was almost a growl, a sound of pure, frustrated need. Her eyes flew open, glazed with pleasure. “Wha… why did you stop?”
I looked up her body, meeting her heated gaze. “Not yet,” I said, my voice rough. I lowered my head and licked her again, a slow, torturous pass, but avoided her clit. I worked her with my fingers, driving her to the edge again, listening to her pleas and curses, feeling her body beg for release. And again, just as her muscles began to flutter and seize, I withdrew my mouth, leaving her gasping on the precipice.
I did it a third time. Her cries were raw now, tears of frustration and overwhelming sensation leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Please,” she sobbed. “Jackson, please, I need to come. I need it.”
Fuck me. Hearing this wildfire of a woman beg for me? I would never get enough. Not to my dying day.
“You’ll come when I’m inside you,” I promised, my own control hanging by a thread. I was painfully hard, straining against my jeans. I rose up on my knees, fumbling with my belt. “Condom,” I muttered, turning toward the nightstand.
Her hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Her touch was electric. “No.”
I froze. “Holly…”
“I want to feel you,” she said, her voice fierce. “All of you.Bare.I’m on the pill. I want…I want to feel it.”
That undid me. The last of my sanity shattered. I shoved my jeans and boxers down, freeing myself. I was thick, aching, the tip already slick. I positioned myself at her entrance, using my hand to guide myself, rubbing the head through her wetness. She was so hot, so ready.
