“Harper?” Jackson says from right behind me.
“You never call me Harp,” I point out, feeling a little dizzy with all the new developments.
“You don’t seem to like it.”
I sharply turn around to stare at him, taking in the width and breadth of him. Tension crackles in the air as he stares unblinking back at me, hands carefully tucked into the pockets of his jeans as if to stop himself from reaching out. Jackson always waits for me to give a signal that I want to be touched, always seemingly afraid to cross some boundary that I’ve unintentionally drawn.
“I don’t like the nickname Harp…” I admit quietly, a secret between us.
Jackson smiles softly, knowing in his gaze. “I know, Harper.”
“Why’d you bring me here?”
Jackson shrugs nonchalantly. “I have this vision of fucking you in my bed, then up against those windows.” He nods towards the windows as my mouth dries. “Maybe in the bathroom, too. I want to fuck you in every inch of this house. Then I’ll take you back home to your house in Clay Springs and fuck you in every room there too. Until you can’t lie to yourself anymore about what this means to both of us.”
My breath stutters painfully in my chest, caught between my ribs. Without even realizing it, I cross the space between us, untilthe tips of my toes line up with his. I have to tilt my head to hold his gaze, breath still not going into my lungs.
“What does this mean to both of us?” I ask, voice more confident than I expected.
A bittersweet smile inches across Jackson’s lips while he brushes the hair from my face. His fingers skim down the length of my hair, eyes lingering on where the strands get caught between his fingers.
“Harper, this means everything. Don’t you know?”
I close my eyes against the urge to weep, to scream, to bang my hands against his chest in rage. I’ve spent so long holding everyone at a distance, feeling like a burden, feeling like a useless waste of space. Now, here’s this man acting like the sun rises and sets with me. I’m supposed to deny myself this? Impossible. I can’t, and I won’t.
“I know, Jackson,” I say quietly. “I know. I’ve never had someone want me like you do before. I don’t know how to handle it, okay? You terrify me.”
Jackson wraps a steadying arm around me. I lean against him, inhaling the strong scent, which is just so Jackson. The scent that I always pray lingers on my pillows when he’s gone, the scent that reminds me of strength and hope andlife. He makes me feel alive after a life spent going through the motions. The feelings inside me are inching closer and closer to a four-letter word that I’m absolutely terrified to say out loud.
“You’re insane to want me,” I murmur helplessly against his chest.
Jackson’s answering chuckle vibrates right through me. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck, tugging to get me to look up at him. “I’m perfectly sane, and you’re very easy to want. Are you tired from the drive? Need a nap?”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “You could fuck me.”
Jackson tugs at my hair until my throat is bared for him. He dips down to nip at the sensitive skin, murmuring indecipherable words against my skin as he does.
“I’ll fuck you tonight,” Jackson finally says, words dripping with intent.
“Yeah?” I ask dreamily.
“Mhmm.” Jackson pulls back to kiss me, eating at my mouth like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. All I can do is hold on. Just when my dick gets interested, Jackson pulls away, tenderly swiping his thumb across my lower lip. “I’ll fuck you tonight, and you’ll finally learn what calling me Daddy means.”
“Super sure of yourself there, bucko.”
Jackson’s eyes twinkle as if delighted with my inability to be serious. “I’m confident in at least that one skill.”
The reminder of his experience rankles me for only a moment, until it burns into just a soft annoyance.
“When are we meeting your parents?”
“Thanksgiving. I want to spend a few days spoiling you, showing you around Atlanta, having my way with you.”
Warmth blooms in my belly, but I keep my face blank. “Provide some details. I might veto some of it.”
Jackson hums softly, the pads of his fingers massaging the nape of my neck. His fingers are magic, calming me when I’d normally be tensing up. The man is pure magic. Everything about him.
Jackson arches an eyebrow. “Ever been to a hockey game?”
