“Fuck! Fern, Jesus!”
“Jackson—oh!” My arms shake, and I collapse against his chest as I come with him.
He grips my hips, holding me against him as we come down from our highs.
My phone beeps.
I curse as I roll off him. “I need to get ready.”
“I’ll join you.”
I grin as he climbs out of bed and grabs my hand. He leads me into the bathroom, and I giggle as he shampoos my hair and washes my body. He’s so gentle with me, his hands almost reverent as he washes me.
Then it’s my turn.
I take my time as I grab the washcloth from him. He watches me, his eyes soft as he studies me. He steps under the spray, and my mouth waters as I watch the bubbles slip down his body.
We climb out, and Jackson wraps me in a towel. We dry off and quickly dress. I’m ready first, and I turn to him as I gather my things.
“I’ll see you later?” I ask as I slip on my shoes and grab my bag.
“Of course. I’ll be around if you need anything.”
I smile, giving him one more kiss before I leave.
Hurrying to the elevator, I prepare myself for Valerie’s wrath as I head over to her suite. I let myself in and stand there, staring in shock at the chaos happening in the room.
Dresses and clothes are thrown everywhere. Bridesmaids are either dozing on the couches or leaning on the chairs, looking half asleep. I knew they went out last night, but I didn’t think it would get so crazy.
“There you are!” Valerie shouts.
Some of the bridesmaids wince and hold their heads at her sharp tone.
“Yep. Let’s get started,” I say, cutting her off before she can bitch at me some more.
I sit down with Valerie and take notes as she gives me today’s to-do list. I already had it all on my list, but I know she’ll be snippy if I don’t pretend to hang on every word she says.
I feel like I’m floating as I make my way down my to-do list. Not even Valerie’s entitlement can ruin my mood. I just spent the night with the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, having mind-blowing sex. Plus, today is the rehearsal dinner, which means the wedding is almost over. In forty-eight hours, I’ll never have to talk to or see my family this much again.
I smile as that thought hits me, but it doesn’t last long. My work is almost over, but that means my time with Jackson is also about to come to an end soon.
Am I ready for that?
Do I have a choice?
EIGHT
Jackson
I’ve beenin plenty of tense situations in my life. Combat zones, high-risk operations, hostage rescues, but somehow sitting through this rehearsal dinner without dragging Fern out of here is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
I stand in the shadows, my eyes following my girl as she makes her way around the long table in the private dining room of The Rosewood. It’s impossible not to.
Fern moves between tables with her clipboard tucked against her chest, blonde hair falling around her shoulders as she checks details with the staff and answers questions from guests. She’s beautiful. Not the polished, fake beauty the rest of her family seems obsessed with. Fern is real. She’s all soft curves, warm smiles, and bright blue eyes that light up when she laughs. Every time she talks about something she loves, she gets this spark in her expression that makes it impossible to look anywhere else.
I imagine her walking down an aisle toward me. The thought hits me so hard that I almost laugh out loud.
Jesus. We met a week ago.
