Page 52 of Gimme Some Sugar

“Carly.” He grated her name, palming her ass in a desperate grip and leaving no space between them. Jackson’s fingers tightened further, guiding her up and down on his cock until he arched up in a tight shudder and called her name one last time.

Time hung in the air, suspended in the shadows of her room, and Carly folded herself over Jackson’s chest, utterly limp. Her limbs were heavy with total satisfaction, but as the haze wore off, her mind began to perk to life.

What was she supposed to do now? Lying here with Jackson was nice—he felt strong beneath her, and the warmth of his skin coupled with the slowing rhythm of his breath was even better than nice. Still, should she say something? Thanking him for the two unbelievable orgasms he’d just given her seemed strange, even though he deserved her eternal gratitude. So, what was the etiquette for this kind of thing?

Thankfully, Jackson took charge by shifting her to his side and nestling her in close. His stomach let out an enthusiastic grumble, and Carly drew back in surprise.

“Are you hungry?” She propped herself up on an elbow, furrowing her brow at him in the dark.

He hesitated. “Who, me? Not at all.” In a bid to prove him wrong, another growl echoed from Jackson’s midsection, and he covered it with a hand as if to shut it up.

“Seriously? You’re a horrible liar.” Unable to help it, she started to laugh. “If you’re hungry, you should eat.”

He stilled, eyes flicking over hers. “Well, yeah, but I thought…I mean, I can hold you for a while first. If you want.”

Carly pressed a smile between her lips. She might not have much by way of social graces, but feeding somebody…now that was something she knew how to do.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we warm up some of those leftovers, and then we can watch TV on the couch. You can eat and hold me at the same time. What do you say?”

A mischievous smile worked its way over Jackson’s lips, and he shook his head before sitting up to give her a quick, tender kiss.

“You had me at leftovers.”

* * *

Jackson leanedinto the metal belly of a 1968 Pontiac GTO, both palms splayed on the driver’s side quarter panel, and gave Shane a what’s-next glance. All things being equal, he could do a hell of a lot worse than helping Shane finish a tune up on a Friday evening.

Although considering how he’d started his week, the ending seemed rather anti-climactic. Literally.

“Hey, can you hand me that wrench so I can pull these spark plugs?” Shane jutted his chin at the toolbox on the floor between them. “And, by the way, when were you going to tell me you slept with my girlfriend’s boss?”

Jackson froze, mid-reach. “Well, I uh…what makes you think I slept with Carly?”

Shane shook his head, moving a couple steps closer to retrieve the wrench himself, delivering a wry smile on his way. “The shit-eating grin you’ve been wearing since you had dinner with her is kind of a dead giveaway. Plus, Bellamy said Carly’s been in a great mood all week. It’s not much of a logic leap from there.”

At the mention of his perma-grin, Jackson tried to smooth his expression, but it was a total no-go. He’d been smiling like a fool all week, and with good reason, too. As it turned out, warmed up leftovers were sexier than he’d bargained for, inciting a return trip to Carly’s bedroom for round two before he’d finally kissed her goodbye just after one in the morning. It had been well worth the lack of sleep, even when he’d been tasked with the mind-numbing job of putting up drywall for nine hours straight the next day.

Jackson gave in and let his smile eke out. “Okay, fair enough. You win. I slept with her. Just don’t tell Bellamy.” The last thing he wanted was to make things awkward for Carly at work. Plus, he and Carly were barely seeing each other. No reason for the whole world to make a big deal out of it.

“Please. Bellamy’s no dummy. She said with how Carly’s been acting, she either got laid or won the lottery. Since Carly hasn’t quit her job, we were banking on the sex.”

Despite his surprise at Shane’s straight-to-the-point response, Jackson had to laugh. “Hey, for the record, I’d bet my next paycheck that even if Carly did win the lottery, she’d keep her job.” He spun the wing nut that held that GTO’s air filter in place to loosen it.

“Valid point. Good mood or not, I bet she still runs that kitchen like it’s a military base at DEFCON One.”

Jackson nodded—after all, Carly herself had said she couldn’t afford to be laid-back, no matter what the circumstances. He had no reason to think she’d change her colors in the name of excellent sex.

And damn. It really had been excellent fucking sex.

“So, are you going out with her again?” Shane’s question yanked Jackson back down to planet earth, and he blinked at the grimy air filter in his hands, shaking his head a few times before tossing it in the trash bin.

“It’s no big deal,” Jackson said, his gut tightening even as his pulse sped up with the anticipation of seeing Carly again.

“Noted. But that doesn’t really answer the question,” Shane said, not breaking stride with the spark plug in his hand.

Jackson paused to grumble, but then his grin got the best of him again. “I’m taking her fishing on Monday.”

Shane arched a dark brow. “You’re serious.”

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