Page 37 of Second Chance Vacation

“Where?” The smirk on his face bleeds into his voice.

“My pussy.”

While he doesn’t respond, his hands begin moving again, kneading my flesh as if I didn’t just beg him to get me off. As he presses his thumbs back into my flesh, he pulls his hands up my thighs achingly slowly before pausing on either side of my panties—parking his touch just shy of where I beg. Time passes in years until he finally slides one thumb under the lace, sliding it over my slickness.

“So wet.” Jackson’s gravely voice coats me as he pushes his thumb inside me, causing my mouth to fall open.

Knock. Knock.

“Am I good to come back in?”

Just like that—I deflate, reality hitting me like a freight train.

“One second,” Jackson responds, grabbing the blanket off the floor and handing it to me. I turn over to sit, the blanket covering my front so neither of them can see me. Jackson’s eyes lock me in place, blood rushing to my face as I watch him pull his thumb to his lips, sucking it clean—his gaze not leaving mine. He reaches down, adjusting himself. My eyes are still transfixed.

Fuck.

“Come in,” he says without a hint of strain in his voice.

“How did it go?” Her perky demeanor cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to what just happened—or almost happened.

“Good.”

“Fantastic.” Jackson smirks, rocking back and forth on his feet. He is clearly amused by my utter horror.

“Great. Go ahead and get dressed, Genevieve. Jackson, you’ll strip down and trade places with Genevieve.”

As quickly as she comes in, she is gone again.

“Ready to rub me down, Viv?” Jackson waggles his brows at me.

My eyes dart up to him, the panic rushing to my face, causing me to feel flushed.

“Red.” Just like that, I watch as the expression of amusement that had painted Jackson’s expression falls, left behind by a blank, but understanding, expression.

“Understood.”

Handing me my clothes, Jackson turns toward the window like before, allowing me the privacy to change. The irony is not lost on me. A few moments of silence pass before we are met with another knock on the door.

“I’m not feeling great, so I think we’re just going to head out.” The defeated tone Jackson previously kept at bay bleeds through.

“Oh—I am sorry to hear that.” They make pleasantries before she leaves the room, Jackson and I following behind her.

The cab ride back to the house is excruciating.

I taste blood, a reminder to stop biting at my inner cheek. As much as I want to avoid looking at Jackson right now, I also desperately want to know what he's thinking. He went from enthusiastic to distant, and while I know why…it still hurts.

“Jackson?” I say so quietly. I worry he doesn't hear me.

“Yes?”

I look up to find him looking at me already, causing a lump to catch in my throat.

“Are we okay?” Despite my attempts to sound calm, cool, and collected, I can hear the desperation in my voice. I need us to be okay. Even if we're not together, even if we never go there again, I need to know we're okay.

I refuse to breathe life into asking why that is.

“Yeah, Viv, we're okay,” Jackson responds with a faint smile, causing my stomach to do cartwheels. My gaze lingers on his lips for longer than is appropriate, but I can't will myself to pull my attention away.

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