Page 114 of Failure to Match

I craved him with every fiber of my soul and didn’t know how to make it stop. It was horrible, and wonderful, and terrifying, and all his fault, so I shoved my tongue into his mouth as punishment.

He groaned and... it was over. He snapped out of his initial state of shock, and whatever leverage I’d started with crumpled with a broken whine when he wrapped his arms around me and effortlessly pulled me onto his lap.

My gut fucking purred. I was exactly where I belonged, straddling Jackson as he touched me, kissed me, and made filthy,filthypromises with that wicked tongue of his.

Absolutely unacceptable. I bit his bottom lip and pulled away.

“Lesson number one,” I panted, pushing him back when he tried to chase the kiss. My palm was kept firm against his pounding chest as I glared into his dazed eyes. “There’s a big difference between lust and affection.This—” I fisted his shirt and yanked him forward for another hard, frustrated kiss before shoving him back again. “This is lust. That’s all it is. You and I have had the extremely inconvenient misfortune of beingphysically attracted to one another and were stupid enough to act on it.”

Was he listening? He didn’t look like he was listening.

“Stop staring at my mouth like that,” I snapped. “I’m saying things.”

“I’m quite aware of what lust is, Jamie,” he told my mouth. “I’m suffering through the affliction as we speak.” In case there was any confusion whatsoever around his meaning, he grabbed my thighs and jerked me forward. He was rock-hard, his grip punishing.

My clit hissed.

“So you agree that’s what this is,” I said, barely managing to keep my voice even. “Just lust.”

Genuine surprise flicked over his features. He faltered for a moment, then blinked himself back into focus. “Of c—yes.”

I knew that would be his answer—Iknewhe was going to say yes—yet my stomach still dropped, my throat still ached, and my fist still tightened around his shirt as I held up my bandaged hand. “Then this has to stop.”

He was silent for a moment. “What?”

“There is lust, and then there’s affection,” I repeated slowly. “One is purely physical. It’s driven exclusively by attraction and wants one thing, and one thing only: sex.”

“I already said I know what lust?—”

“Affection is not that,” I interrupted. “Affection is about emotional intimacy and connection. The two have very different natures, objectives, and psychological impacts. Showing genuine and consistent affection to someone who isn’t closed off to emotional intimacy like you isconfusing, Jackson.”

It led to hope. To longing and desire and, eventually, crushing disappointment.

His eyes slid between mine as his grip on my thighs softened. After a long pause, he asked, “Which part are you confused about?”

My own fingers loosened around his shirt. I swallowed. “All of it.” Everything about him confused me. “You’re not allowed to be sweet and tender with me anymore, understand?”

“No. Explain,” he demanded. “In detail.”

How much clearer could I get?

“It’s called a boundary,” I said, “and I’m officially setting one. Lust, I can do. That’ll burn out in a week or two if we just... give it what it wants. But no displays of affection before, during, or after.”

“Meaning?” he pushed.

Fuck’s sake. “Meaning you can bend me over and fuck me as rough and hard as you want, but you’re not allowed to clean me up afterward.” I slipped his bottom lip between my teeth and softly pulled, then licked. “Meaning, Jackson, that you can tie me to your bed and use me like your own personal fucktoy all night, you can leave your marks and your bruises on my skin, but you’re not allowed to soothe them when you’re finished. Is that more clear?”

His breathing stopped abruptly when I got to the personal fucktoy bit, his pulse slamming harder against my fist.

“Is that really what you want from me?” he asked.

What I wanted was for this burning need for him to subside before it consumed me whole. And if he had to fuck it out of me, so be it.

“Yes.”

The silence that followed wouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking if I could read the slow change in his expression as he studied me. I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Don’t you think we’ll both feel better afterward?” I tried. “Even if it’s just once... don’t you think it’ll at least take the edge off?”

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