Page 102 of Body Check

Jackson picks me up and carries my limp body to the bed. He lays me down with care, crawls over me, and brushes his lips with mine. “You up for the main course?”

“Since it’s your body and not your cooking?” I slide my hands down his muscular spine. “Get naked, Mr. Carter.”

I help him out of his jeans, unbuckling his belt and tugging down the zipper. He stands on the floor and I kneel on all fours on the bed. When I tug down his jeans and briefs, I take his hard-on in hand and give it a firm stroke. “One more appetizer,” I mutter when he begins to pull away, “it’s my favorite one.”

Kissing the crown of his cock, I slide my tongue down the length of him.

“Oh,shit.”

I reward his responsiveness with sucking him into my mouth. On each upward glide, I hollow my cheeks and apply the pressure at the root with my tight fist. I keep my eyes open, unwilling to miss anything, and there’s no mistaking the way the veins in his thighs leap each time I squeeze him a little tighter. One glance up at his chest and it’s so very clear that he’s having a hard time regulating his breath.

“Holly.” He spits out my name on a ragged breath, his hands coming to the back of my head to control my pace.

Not happening.

I promptly swallow as much of his length as I can handle, and his knees give out.

Just when I think he’s about to go down for good, he swoops forward and throws me back on the bed. In jerky motions, he yanks open the dresser drawer and pulls out one of the condoms that we bought upon our return from Newport.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go without but I’m not on birth control and we have enough on our plates with the grand unknown in front of us. As he rips the foil and rolls the condom on, I cradle his face and kiss him hard.

“You’re my high, Jackson Carter,” I say against his mouth, my legs already spreading so he can fit between them. “You’re my family. You called me today and I’ve never”—I swallow past the lump in my throat—“I’ve never been so scared in my life. You asked me once if I feel fulfilled from photography. I do, but I . . .” I kiss his cheek, his chin. “There’s nothing in this world that makes me feel happier than you. And I know how ridiculous that sounds—how I’ve always wanted to build something of my own and be successful.”

The head of his cock lines up with my entrance and in a single push, he thrusts home. We hiss simultaneously, his hands on either side of my head and mine clinging to his shoulders. “You can have both, sweetheart,” he growls as he pulls out, then drives forward, filling me up to completion. “You’re a superhero with a camera.” Another slow glide out and inward push that curls my toes in the sheets. “You’re a woman who’s loved more than she’ll ever know.”

I gasp when he flicks his finger over my clit. “And you?” I ask on a throaty moan. “What are you?”

“I’m yours, however you’ll have me. Now. Forever.”

His thrusts pick up speed and I bow my back when he hits the mostdeliciousspot. He does it again, and again, and yet again. I crane my neck against the mattress, relishing the way his always-so-carefully-constructed control splinters. Gripping my hips, he pushes my legs wide and powers into me.

My hands fist the bedsheets.

My gaze never leaves from his.

He changes his angle, leaning forward so that each thrust glides along my clit, the pressure there so acute that I come apart.

“Oh, God, Jackson!”

“I love you,” he growls, “and I’m never letting you go again.”

Dropping his hands to the flat of my belly, he drives into me, and this time, he follows me into oblivion with my name on his lips.

I welcome his bulky weight in my arms, and as he comes off the high of his own orgasm, he kisses the top of my breast. “You have something to tell me, Holls.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you again.”

He props his chin on my chest. “That wasn’t even a question. Now tell me that other thing.”

“We’re about to have company?”

Jackson stills in my arms. “We’rewhat?”

“Company.” I lift my hips and wriggle them side to side, just to mess with his head. “You might want to get up. I don’t know what time it is, but I told them we’d need an hour.”

“Anhour?”Leaping from the bed, Jackson stares down at my naked body and then at his dick, which is still mostly hard. “Please tell me you didn’t invite my mother.”

I roll over on my side, bending one elbow so I can lay the side of my face on it. Not going to lie, there’s something rather amazing about watching stoic, formidable Jackson Carter lose a little of that reserved edge of his. Just to see him flush, I singsong, “You might want to put on some clothes. Momma Martha doesn’t need to see any ofthat.” I wave at his nakedness.

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