Page 31 of Mind Pucked

I have my things in my hand when Jackson makes his way back down the steps. I don’t say anything to him as I head for the door, but all the while my mind is replaying the image of him walking through the back door without a shirt on.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Jackson says, stopping me in my tracks. “My behavior was totally uncalled for. I’m just stressed out, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

My heart thrums in my chest at the sight of him when I finally turn around and face him. I’m shocked that I’m getting an apology—I wasn’t sure he knew how to do that.

He bends down and picks up a toy from under the couch that I missed. As if on instinct, I reach to take it. For some dumbreason, our hands brush and my heart races. Our eyes are locked as I take the toy, and all I can say is, “Okay.”

Rather weakly might I add.

With our eyes still locked, I feel an intensity that has never been here between us before. I turn and toss the toy in the general direction of the playroom before facing him again. His hands still hover slightly in front of him, as if the electricity felt moments ago still lingers.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Jackson’s a great dad, a great hockey player, and generally a great guy. My theories regarding my brother aside, this man is wonderful—perfect, in fact. Still, I should leave.

Wordlessly, he steps forward, closing the gap slightly.

My heart threatens to explode as our eyes stay locked. I think about running out of the house, but the want inside me shuts down that idea.

I want to stay and see what’s about to happen.

As if that thought sparks in him too, he closes the gap between us. His hands grasp my face on either side, and he pauses, hanging in midair. There’s so much tension between us, and I feel it build up even more as I sigh, staring into his eyes.

“Jackson…I—” I begin, but then everything I was about to say flies out of my brain as our lips crash together.

I don’t know if I moved first or if he did. All I know is the desperation and need between us. Heat is pooling in places I haven’t felt heat in so long. I need this…I need him, more than I need to know about my brother, more than I need answers, I need Jackson.

My lips part ever so slightly as if an invitation has been sent, and he accepts.

I can taste and smell him, his body wash and musky shampoo. I think I will remember his smell for the rest of my life.

“Oh damn,” he moans against my mouth, and I know for sure that I am in for it.

I need to stop.Thisneeds to stop, but our mouths just keep tangling together, his tongue slipping into my mouth. He tastes like whiskey and salt, and it’s making me heat up all over.

This is so wrong. I can’t want this.

But I can’t seem to stop, even as his hands are on me, sliding down to grip my hips with a firmness that has dominance and authority in it.

I could use this to my advantage. I know that. If I’m close enough to him that he’s making out with me, then I can get information. It doesn’t have to have anything to do with my hands against his hard chest, my mind wondering what it would be like to be skin to skin with him right now. It doesn’t have to be about his hands sliding down over my ass and squeezing like he owns it. It certainly doesn’t have to be about him pulling me closer until I can feel his hardness against my belly, making me wonder how well he would fill me up if I let him. If he wanted me that way.

The guilt eating away at me has everything to do with Hayden. She’s a sweet little girl with trauma, sleeping in her bedroom upstairs. And Jackson is a good dad. A great one, actually. He’s stepped up in both roles for her, and he’s so caring and sweet. It’s a rare find. But that doesn’t mean he never did anything wrong. That he didn’t want Preston out of his way for some reason.

I put my anger into the kiss and push myself against him, my chest burning with desire as well as rage. He pulls me in, and I love the taste of his mouth on mine. I can’t believe it, but my knees are getting weak.

His hands are all over me, one palm cupping my breast as he moves his lips to my neck. His kisses trail from the bottom of my ear down to my collarbone. Then he kisses the other side of my neck, and I feel like I’m a meal he’s been hungry for but has been too afraid to taste. I can’t guess how many women, if any, he’s been with over the last two years, but the way his lips press against my skin…there’s a desperation that makes me think it couldn’t have been all that many.

The only other possibility is that he’s just that passionate of a lover.

He steps forward, and I shuffle with him until my legs hit the couch. He kisses down the front of my chest, and his hands are at my sides, lifting the fabric of my shirt. I instinctively begin to lift my arms, but something pops up in my head.

We’re standing right in the living room. I can’t help but feel like Hayden could hear something and come downstairs and see us. I’m not sure if I should say anything. I honestly think he’d be embarrassed to bring me back to keep nannying if we were caught by her.

I try to remove the thought from my head, but I can’t quite seem to shake it. As he slides the shirt over my head, he drops it to the floor and embraces me with more kisses.

“Won’t Hayden see us?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pauses and glances toward the stairs. I’m scared I’ve ruined the momentum.

“She won’t come downstairs—if she even wakes up, she calls from her bedroom or maybe from the top of the stairs, and she can’t see us from there.” The confident delivery of his words helps me to feel completely relaxed.

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