I step close enough that my chest brushes his. I feel his pulse through his shirt. I feel the way he leans in without even realizing it.
“Are you saying stop?” I ask because I will.
Always.
“No.”
“Then be quiet,” I murmur.
His mouth opens, and I kiss him before he can say something that makes me lose control completely. The kiss is hungry from the first contact. Jackson grips my shirt with both hands, pulling me in like he’s starving, like he’s been waiting all night for this. His body presses into mine, and the wall behind him becomes the only thing holding him up.
I angle my mouth, deepening the kiss, letting my tongue touch his, and Jackson makes a soft sound that goes straight to my dick.
My hands slide to his waist, then to his hips, grounding him, holding him steady. He kisses me back with reckless devotion, tongue and teeth and breath, like he’s trying to swallow the fear out of his own chest.
I pull back just enough to breathe.
Jackson’s lips are swollen, his eyes are blown wide, his cheeks flushed.
Beautiful.
“You’re doing that thing,” he whispers.
“What thing?” I murmur, brushing my mouth along his jaw.
“Making me forget how to be normal,” he breathes.
I smile against his skin. “I don’t want you normal.”
His hands slide into my hair, tugging, not hard, just enough to make my body tighten.
“Dre,” he whispers again, and it’s not a warning now.
It’s need.
My lips kiss down his throat, then up to the spot under his ear, and Jackson shudders against me. The world is far enough away that for a few seconds it feels like it’s just us.
Then footsteps echo at the end of the corridor.
Jackson holds his breath, and I lift my head and listen, making sure my body covers his completely from view.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Like I’d want anyone else seeing you like this,” I whisper back, my mouth brushing his. “Lips swollen.” I drag my thumb over his bottom lip. “Cheeks flushed.” Then I lean in and whisper in his ear, “A little slut that’s all mine.”
“Possessive much?”
I kiss him again, slower now, letting the rhythm of it calm him.
“Look at me.” I pull back, and Jackson’s eyes lock onto mine immediately.
“You’ve always been mine,” I tell him. “There’s never been a second where you haven’t been.”
Jackson’s throat bobs and he nods once. I press my forehead to his for a brief second, then kiss him one more time, softer, like a seal on the promise.
When I pull back, his smile is shaky but real.
“We should go back,” he whispers.
