Page 14 of Second Chance Vacation

The last time we shared a bed, we were teenagers, we were basically kids, and to be frank, it was never anything resembling a romantic suite on the southern coast of France. It was sneaking past his parents in the dead of night, Jackson bribing Hannah to keep our secret, and waking up at 5:00 AM to make sure that I was out of his bed before his parents woke up for work.

It was hardly a sight to behold.

However, the current image of events is an entirely different view.

When Savannah booked the house, she clearly did so with the hope that I would end up in a romantic entanglement. The entire house is set up in a way that subtly pushes for it. Between the beautiful views and giant soaking tub in the bathroom, it is clear—this is a house meant for lovers to vacation.

Jackson clears his throat from the other side of the king bed as his eyes rake over me. We both get ready for bed, but it is clear from the get-go that neither of us is prepared for this moment. Had I known I would be sharing a bed at all with a man, I would have packed something different. I look down at my satin tank and short set and tug at the hem, trying desperately to find some modesty.

It is starting to make sense why Savannah threw them in my bag.

Jackson’s gaze trails down my legs with a sense of intrigue before his eyes meet mine once more. I feel under scrutiny as he pauses, perusing. Goosebumps cover my skin, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation of what he’s thinking right now. I fight to not cover myself under his heavy gaze.

I want to know what he’s thinking.

He is not much better by way of preparedness. It’s difficult to divert my gaze from the clear distraction in front of me. He is dressed in a pair of navy-blue gym shorts low on his hips and what looks to be one of his V-neck undershirts. He and I both know that isn’t how he typically sleeps, but I am not going to be encouraging him to strip down to his skivvies.

“Uh—I can sleep on top of the duvet if you’d like.”

He is trying, and the least I can do is return the same courtesy.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going to be an asshole. Sleep how you normally would.”

The corner of his lip quirks up, and we both know where his mind goes at that moment. My mind wanders, painting a picture of him naked. Heat flushes my cheeks.

Idiot.

“Fully clothed.”

“If you insist.”

His devilish smirk cuts away to a full-blown grin as he pulls back the duvet.

SIX

JACKSON

After spending pretty much the entire previous day traveling, sleep hits me like a ton of bricks. If I were in any other situation and with any other woman, I would be delighted to see a beautiful brunette next to me in bed. This, however, isn’t that situation, and it isn’t some girl. The moment my head hits the pillow, my brain suddenly has no concern for the company I have and shuts down on contact.

The groggy sunlight peeking through the shades wakes me much more abruptly than sunlight normally would. I am typically a really heavy sleeper. I grin as lavender and vanilla hit my senses with an overwhelming air of comfort. My eye cracks open, holding my gaze on the brunette mop splayed against my chest. I apparently ditched my shirt throughout the night, and her face was lying against my chest. Her warmth against my skin feels incredible.

If the circumstances were different, I would jump up, giving her the space she would want once she woke up. However, given her level of serenity that I haven’t seen in quite some time, I don’t want to budge her. Despite knowing that she is responsible for our demise, I still don’t want to be the cause of the look on her face I saw yesterday. She was shattered to see me, which made the excitement drop to the pit of my stomach and made me feel like an absolute asshole.

I soak in the moment as I graze featherlight touches along her arm, remembering just how soft her skin is. Her skin instantly prickles upon my touch, pulling a smile from my lips. You really wouldn’t ever know how much she snores when she has these moments of quiet.

She seems calm and docile.

The flutter in my stomach and her eyelids sends my brain into a tizzy.

“Uh. Hey.” I smile, my voice the quietest whisper I can muster.

I push a lock of waves behind her ear. My stomach is in shambles, but I know if I move too abruptly, she will freak out instantly.

“Um, hey.”

Her disorientation is almost endearing, a glazed expression painting her face. She lazily looks at me, a sated air about her. I see the moment of realization cast over her face as her air of contentment sours, taking me with it. Gen jumps abruptly to a standing position, adjusting her shorts as she does so. She is clearly deeply bothered by what transpired, despite it having been nothing. Knowing her, her brain is going a mile a minute.

“Why were you cuddling me?”

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