Page 84 of Body Check

“Just so you know, you can stop laughing at any time now.”

His only response is to keel over and laugh some more.

“Anytime now.” I drum my fingers on the mattress, staring at the “reserved” Blades captain losing his mind and all because I broke a bed. Funny, so funny. “Jackson. Really, you can stop.”

The overhead light illuminates his big grin when he climbs to his feet and comes toward me, arms wide open. “C’mere, sweetheart. Your Knight in Naked Birthday Suit has arrived to save the day.”

I roll my eyes at the cheesiness factor, but my heart swoons when he pulls me from the rubble—okay, the broken slats and crooked mattress—and hauls me close to his chest. He tucks my head under his chin, but our heights are so opposite that it’s more like he folds his big body far enough over to put me in the desired spot.

“How’s the butt?” he asks, reaching down to massage one butt cheek and then the other.

I snort into his hard chest. “Strong enough to crack a slat of wood in half.”

“Imagine if it was an Olympic event—you’d place first.”

“I’ve always wanted a gold medal.”

“Now’s your chance to take what’s yours.” He kisses the crown of my head, then loops his arms around the small of my back to lift me off my toes in a tight hug. “How about you go upstairs to your room and get ready for bed?” He sets me back down on my feet again, stealing away his body heat while heading for the room phone that’s perched on the desk. “I’ll take care of all”—he plucks up the phone from the receiver and gestures to the broken bed—“this.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

“That you had your wicked way with me.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t let me come up for air because you were so desperate to have me sucking on your cli—oh, hey.Cliff. I was just about to say that I’ll be climbing a cliff tomorrow.” Jackson flashes me a thumbs up, mouthing,go upstairs. “No mountains in the area? Seriously? Damn, well there goes that idea. Way to kill a man’s dreams, Joe.”

When he gestures at me to get dressed, I swallow an ill-timed chuckle and begin pulling my clothes on again.

Jackson, on the other hand, remains fully nude, not a hint of embarrassment straining his features while he apologizes to the front-desk receptionist about “the travesty done to the bed” and asks that all damages go on his personal credit card.

Picking up my purse from where I’d sent it sailing earlier in the evening, I hook the strap over my shoulder and move toward Jackson.

He hooks a hand around mine, eclipsing the final steps between us. Drops his mouth to my ear, away from the receiver, to ask, “What room are you in?”

Guess the cuddling thing is definitely going to happen.

I search around for a hint of worry, any slice of panic that I’m making the wrong step here, but I find nothing but excitement. “301. First door on your right out of the elevator.”

He nods, once, and sends me off with another kiss to my temple.

I head up to my room with a bounce in my step.

Strip off my clothes and pull on a basic T-shirt and sleep shorts with a smile that can’t be stopped.

Twenty minutes after I climbed into bed, with the TV’s volume turned down to a gentle murmur, I hear the knock on the door.

And the grin comes right on back.

Once inside my room, Jackson wastes no time teasing me out of my clothes all over again, tugging my shirt up and over my head and my shorts and panties down the length of my legs. He eyes the full-sized bed with distrust, making a dramatic show of giving the mattress his weight in several increments.

He makes me smile.

He makes me throw my head back in laughter.

And when he wraps me up in his big arms, my chin resting on his chest, as he surfs the TV for something good to watch, he makes me crave something more than a hotel-room stay while I’m technically on the clock.

Love. Forever. Him.

I don’t know if any of it is attainable—not in the long run, not if we allow all our past faults to come tumbling in between us again.

I squeeze him tight, inhaling his familiar sandalwood and fresh-breeze scent.

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