Page 119 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
“Hey,” he murmurs back.
There’s tension in his frame, but it’s already beginning to soften. His breath evens out, like just being here helps reset something that’s been fraying at the edges.
I don’t say anything about the losses. He doesn’t either.
Dinner is loud, messy, normal.
Liam snatches a piece of garlic bread off Noah’s plate when he’s not looking. In revenge, Noah drops a green bean into Liam’s water glass. We pretend not to see any of it. Until Liam takes a sip, gags dramatically, and shoots Noah a glare.
“Ugh! You turned it into vegetable water!”
When Jackson laughs, our eyes meet, a shared smile and a quiet kind of heat.
I ask about his shoulder, and he shrugs. “Stiff, but manageable.” I can tell it’s more than that, but I don’t press.
Miss Taylor handles the bedtime routine like the seasoned pro she is, herding the boys down the hall with promises of one story each and a strict “no negotiating” clause. I hear her laugh as she shoos them down the hall.
Jackson and I are alone in the kitchen.
“I missed this. Missed you,” he says softly.
He steps closer, his hand finding my waist like it’s second nature. I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly we’re kissing—slow, certain, like we have all the time in the world. My fingers curl into his shirt; his arm slips around me, drawing me closer. The kiss deepens, heat sparking low in my stomach.
“Upstairs?” I whisper.
His nod is rough, voice lower. “Before I do something reckless right here.”
I laugh, but it’s cut short when he lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist, and his lips claim mine again.
Seconds after the bedroom door shuts, clothes scatter to the floor.
“You know,” he teases, “after all that traveling today, I think I should take a shower.”
I lean in, smiling. “Guess I’d better help.”
His mouth finds the curve of my neck, hand sliding down my arm until our fingers thread together. He guides me toward the bathroom, unhurried, lips never leaving my skin. One hand reaches for the faucet.
The water steams hot when it hits us, but his touch is hotter. His hands roam like he’s memorizing me, and when I glance up, there’s something raw and tender in his eyes that makes my stomach flip.
His palms cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until I gasp. His head lowers, lips closing over one, and my hands find his hair, holding him there. My back arches as heswitches to the other, giving it the same slow attention. The heat of his mouth, the sure weight of his hands—it’s all I can feel.
I can feel him hard against my stomach, thick and urgent. Water slides over us as he pins me lightly to the tile, his mouth catching mine again until my knees go weak.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs at my ear, his breath warm enough to make me shiver. His lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing lightly, before he lifts me. My legs wrap tighter around him, my arms around his neck.
One hand slides between my thighs, fingers slipping inside—slow, deep, perfect. My head rests back against the tile as he works me higher, another finger joining, his rhythm steady but insistent.
“Come for me, Ava,” he growls, teeth grazing my shoulder. “Let go.”
The words rip through me. My body tightens, trembling around his fingers as pleasure crashes over me, fierce and sweet. I cling to him, gasping, riding it out until I’m shaking in his arms.
He eases me down but doesn’t let go. His eyes are dark, hungry. “I’m not done with you.”
He turns me carefully, guiding my hands to the wall. I brace as he presses in behind me, his grip firm on my hips. The first deep thrust drags a cry from my throat. He holds still just long enough for me to feel every inch of him before he starts moving—hard,fast, relentless. The sound of us mixes with the rush of water, each thrust driving me higher.
Heat coils low again, and when release hits, I clench around him, pulsing, shaking. His low, guttural sound follows, his grip firm as he spills inside me, hips stuttering before going still.
For a moment, we just breathe—water still falling, skin slick and warm. His lips brush the back of my neck. “You okay?”
