I cling to him, pressing my face into the crook of his neck like I’m trying to hide away from the whole world. But he doesn’t let me stand there for long, guiding me up the walk and into the house instead. It’s after three, so Bonnie should be home, but even though I brace myself for the charge of a little girl’s feet down the hall, it doesn’t come.
I wipe my face, trying to clear away the tears. My voice is hoarse from my earlier sobbing when I ask, “Where’s Bonnie?”
“At the movies, with her nanny,” says Jackson. “And they’ll get pizza on the way home. I’m sure that she’ll fall asleep in the car and go straight to bed when they make it back here, but we have hours until that happens.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him, but it’s obvious that I’m also beyond grateful for it.
Jackson says, “Sometimes, you need a little bit of space. And it’s not a trial for her. Bonnie is having a great evening.”
He puts his keys down and takes off his shoes. The whole time, I stand there sniffling and wiping at my face, not sure what I’m supposed to do now.
Thankfully, Jackson handles figuring it out for me. He takes my hand again and leads me into the guest bathroom. The shower there is a little smaller than the one in his bedroom but much closer. He pulls off my shirt and then tells me, “Get undressed.”
I do as I’m bid, glad to have someone helping me right now. While I strip bare, Jackson gets the water in the shower warming up, fetches towels, and then gets undressed himself. He takes my hand and leads me into the shower, stepping under it with me.
The hot spray of water crashes into my back and shoulders, an almost instant relief as the muscles unclench. There’s a tension in me that I hadn’t been able to shake away, but Jackson helps with that. He runs his hands over my shoulders and my neck, and then grabs the shampoo. It smells like strawberries which makes me think it must be Bonnie’s.
He lathers up my hair, working it into a blonde sudsy mess. I lean forward, against his chest, and let out a soft sigh. Nails scrape over my scalp, blunt and soothing. The soap is worked through my hair, and then rinsed out. Conditioner follows suit, running through my messy, long hair until every last tangle has been worked out, and then a little beyond that.
Through it all, the hot water runs down over us both, and the sound becomes almost melodic and soothing. I find my breathing evens out, and the tears finally fully stop falling. There’s a softness in this. An intimacy that goes deeper than anything we’ve shared so far.
My arms wrap around Jackson’s waist, hands sliding over his bare, slick skin. I breathe out, but it’s a steady exhale. All I want is for Jackson to take care of me and he does a good job at it, rinsing my hair out a second time, too. He is tender but reassuring with each touch, using his palm to wipe the water from my face when he’s finished rinsing out my hair.
I blink my eyes a few times until he comes into focus. His chiseled figure seeming to tower over me, his deep grey eyes fixed into mine. I’m so content that it feels as though it would be easy to fall asleep right here.
But I need to know something first.
I need to know—
“Jackson.” The word comes out soft, like a whisper. “You have to help me fix this. You have to— I can’t let this happen to my baby.”
“Our baby,” he corrects, lightly. A hand smooths down the curve of my side and then around, pressing to my still-flat belly. I haven’t started to show yet, but the touch feels intimate all the same, like a promise in its own right, one that goes even deeper than words.
Jackson leans in, and he kisses me, the taste of water on his lips too. We have to back up to get out of the spray of it, though warmth has still billowed into the air and fogged up the slid-shut glass door.
“Jackson,” I say again. “I mean it. You have to help me. We have to fix this.”
“We’re going to.” The words come out so low and deep, like an oath. It soothes me more than anything else, and when he drops a hand down between my legs, I’m certain that he’s going to help me. I’m even able to enjoy it.
Fingers slide over my clit, rubbing a slick, wet bundle of nerves, sending hot bolts of pleasure through me, settling straight in the pit of my belly. I press my head back hard against the tiled wall and let out a low, needling whine.
His fingers drop lower, circling my entrance. The tip of one presses inside my pussy, and then slides in slow. It leaves me feeling warm and paired with the heat billowing into my lungs from the shower, it’s almost like I’m floating.
A second finger joins the first, gently, slowly, steadily stretching me open. They find that little bundle of nerves inside of me and rub against it brutally until my thighs are shaking so hard that I can barely stand up. The soles of my feet slide over the wet tiled floor, but Jackson only pulls his hand away when I start gasping for air, already right there on the edge.
He kisses me until I’ve cooled down, the heat once more a simmer beneath the surface of my skin instead of an inferno about to spill out into the world.
“I’ll take care of you, Amanda. I promise that I’m going to take care of you.”
He means with the baby, with the diagnosis. But he also means right now, in this moment. He means the way that he spreads my trembling legs so that there’s room for him to press between them, one arm looping around my waist to prevent me from falling down to the ground.
He means the way that he kisses me, swallowing up the keening groan that escapes from my lips when he presses the thick head of his cock into me, the slide slow as though he’s trying to pull me apart and put me back together again with nothing but his dick.
It has my mouth watering and my eyes squinting shut. The mist in the air is keeping our bodies wet, making them slide together in a whole new way. He hefts up one of my legs and I do my best to wrap it around his hip, letting the wall and Jackson’s body serve as the only things keeping me up.
Each roll of his hips causes that heat to build up inside of me. I know that Jackson can go rough and fast. I like it when he does. But this?
This is different.