Jackson lets go of the doorframe with a disbelieving sigh. He stalks toward me, stride purposeful. I swallow loudly once he comes to a stop in front of me. Fuck. I wish last night we’d been able to do more before sleep came for me. What does his skin taste like? I wonder if he’ll let me sit in his lap as we make out. If I begged just right, would he be rough with me? Will his eyes darken if I call him Daddy?
His fingers gently grip my chin, turning my face up more until it slightly hurts to swallow. Thumb dragging along the length of my throat, he leans down to suck at the spot where my pulse pounds. My knees go weak at the touch of his lips, wildfire igniting in my veins. I bring my hands up to cup the breadth of his ribs, feeling them contract with his breaths under my touch.Last night I had wrapped my legs around his hips, knees over his ribs. Our size difference didn’t feel so insurmountable then, not like it does now.
Satisfied with sucking on my neck, Jackson nuzzles against my throat, then trails his nose up my face to bury in my hair. His fingers tighten in my hair, tugging my head just far enough back that it’s slightly uncomfortable.
“Harper,” Jackson says roughly.
The sound of his voice makes me melt in his grip. His other arm loops around my waist, tugging me even closer against the extreme heat of his body. Jesus. He’s so warm. I’m constantly cold, fingers freezing. Jackson is a furnace compared to me.
This time, Jackson sighs loudly. “I thought we worked it out last night. Are you going to still fight me like a rabid animal every step of the way?”
My nose scrunches in annoyance. “Rabid?”
“Like a fucking coyote,” Jackson declares. He lets go of me and takes a few steps back, then pivots on his feet to face me square on again. “I’ll let you have the day. But next weekend I’m taking you out.”
“As in kill me?” I ask, lips curling up in a smile.
Jackson rolls his eyes. “Regretfully, no.”
Jackson disappears into the house without so much as a word. I assume the conversation is done, that he’s gone, so I dip down on the stairs to sit in the early morning air. Honey returns to sit beside me, a heavy, comforting weight at my side. I tilt my head against the wood railing of the stairs, suddenly overwhelmingly tired.
The sound of Jackson’s footfalls makes my head pivot to the side, just in time for him to crouch low behind me. His fingers slide tenderly through my hair and his lip twitches at the corner, as if he’s holding back a tender smile. My traitorous heart leaps and loops in my chest just at the thought of him smiling onlyfor me. I wish his smile belonged to me, just to catch and hold when I most need it. Smiles shouldn’t be that beautiful, that gut-wrenching.
“Please let me treat you good,” Jackson begs, voice a soft whisper.
“I’m not used to it,” I admit. I rarely let others see me vulnerable, taught too many times that vulnerability is weakness.
His thumb rubs at the edge of my jaw. “You need to learn.”
He bends down further to kiss me, uncaring about both of our morning breaths. His lips are silk-soft still, even dry, as they move against my own. When he pulls away, I feel an odd sense of loss. Like losing a limb, his touch now just a phantom weight.
“I’ll text you, punk.” Jackson stands to his full height to tower over us.
Honey’s tail thumps, and she whines as he disappears back into the house. I pat the top of her head, squeezing at her ears in the way she loves.
“He’ll be back. Maybe. If he doesn’t change his mind.”
Honey whines again as if in disagreement with my assessment. Great. Now even my dog is sick of my shit.
Halfway through the week,Andy demands that I visit her at the farm on her lunch break. The twenty-minute rideshare costs me a pretty penny, mostly because there weren’t any drivers in the area. I always have to pay a premium to get someone out in my neck of the woods. Annoying but it had to be done. Plus, the farm is one of my safe spaces when it’s empty.
The driver speeds away in a plume of dirt. At least he was mostly silent. Andy’s waiting for me just outside the office, awarm grin tilting her lips up. She looks the same as usual. Work jeans, tight curls in a messy bun, and weirdly happy just at the sight of me.
“Figured we could make Joey fix us lunch and have a little girlie chat.”
I groan. “You know I hate it when you call it that.”
Andy lets out a long-suffering, pained sigh. “Fine. A bestie chat.”
We amble together through the empty crowd, heading straight for Joey’s food truck. Andy loops her arm through mine and the smell of her sweet, familiar perfume wafts over me. I look around for Beau, but don’t see him. Odd. The man is usually somewhere on the farm.
“It’s his day off,” Andy supplies, noticing me looking for Beau.
“I forgot.”
Andy takes my hand in hers, rubbing at the palm of my hand. “Joey has all the fixings for a blueberry and brie grilled cheese. Want it?”
My mouth instantly waters at my favorite sandwich, the one never on a menu. Joey only ever makes it for me. “Yes, please.”
