Page 54 of Beneath the Hood

But that’s just Jackson. Comfortable in any element. He doesn’t have to command the room, because it’s intrinsic, the air molding to fit him so perfectly. He owns the space just by existing within it.

“I don’t have anything planned, princess. You invited me, remember?” He smirks, leaning against the gray marble island.

My brow raises. “False. You invited yourself.”

His grin widens and he sits down on a stool, his chain rustling under his shirt. My stomach clenches, remembering what it felt like to have the metal threaded between my fingers while I came apart in his arms.

My mouth waters and I swallow the saliva, jerking into action when I realize I’m staring like an idiot, wasting valuable time. I have two hours at best before I’m whisked away, back into my responsibilities.

Usually I’d be in the gym, getting an early evening workout in to cushion unforeseen things—food or drink that I can’t avoid. But the urge to spend time with Jackson is stronger than the threat of empty calories, even as the panic wraps around my chest and squeezes, reminding me how easy it can steal my breath.

I’ll just exercise when I get back home.

Sleep is overrated anyway. And I’m desperate for some time between Jackson and me where both of us aren’t falling apart at the seams.

Part of me wonders if he’s attracted to the mess—a scrambled puzzle for him to piece together, then walk away from once I’m whole. But I don’t want to think on that either, so I shove it to the back of my mind, determined to enjoy the time together. I’ve never had aboyfriend.

My heart stalls as I think the word, my eyes widening as I stare at him across the kitchen. He’s watching me with a sparkle in his mossy gaze, his eyes inquisitive.

“You’re far too pretty to look so sad,” he says, cocking his head to the side.

“What are we doing?” I rush out.

The easy smile drops from his face and he jumps from the stool and strides toward me. I back up, realizing that he’s not slowing down as he comes closer. My stomach flips and my hands grow clammy, my back bumping into the wall.

He presses against me, his hips pinning mine in place. “What do youwantto be doing?”

I suck in a gasp, butterflies racing from my stomach to my throat, anticipation and arousal surging through my insides. My teeth sink into my lower lip, gnawing away at the flesh.

His fingers grip my chin, his thumb tugging until my mouth parts.

“You’ll make yourself bleed,” he rumbles.

“Maybe I like the pain,” I whisper back.

His eyes flare and my womb clenches even as embarrassment tries to slither its way around me, heating my cheeks.Maybe I like the pain?I don’t know why I said that, even if I know it’s true.

The sting helps me focus, allowing me to feel control even when things slip from my grasp. At least the discomfort is something I’m choosing.

He leans in closer, resting his forehead against mine, his hand cupping the back of my neck until our mouths are centimeters apart. His breath is sweet and I suck it in, wanting him to breathe new life into my bones. Bathe me in his comfort and leave me with his peace, so even after he’s gone, I feel him inside me.

“Careful, princess. That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The scratch in his voice sends a thrill racing through me, and not for the first time, I wonder what it would be like to give myself to him.

I wouldn’tleasemy body to Jackson. I’d let him own it.

“Maybe it is,” I breathe into his lips.

His grip around my neck tightens, his head dipping down to brush his lips against mine. It’s soft and teasing, his mouth moving back and forth, creating a friction with every pass that makes my body buzz. Anticipation of what he’s going to do next makes every nerve electrified, waiting to explode at his command.

I blow out a shaky breath, closing my eyes and enjoying how small I feel in his big hands.

“Let’s eat,” he whispers against my lips. He steps back, his hands that were just on my body now adjusting the front of his jeans, and a shot of arousal pools in my belly as I watch him.

“What’s on the menu? We could do something easy, like pizza?” he asks.

His question douses me in icy water, the thought of pizza churning my stomach.

---