Scared of Beautiful (Scared #1)(34)

No turning back now. The most redemption I can hope for right now is to stick with the practicalities of the situation, and hope that I don’t sound like a stalker in the making. “It makes sense, you’re closer to the town center, easier to get a part time job, and no expenses from living on campus.” I shrug my shoulders with as much blasé as I can manage. “Offer’s available, and it is a two bedroom. We can have our own rooms,” I say teasingly.

Jackson flips me onto my back and presses his body against mine, his arms beside my head. “Deal's off,” he says, his voice low and gravelly as he leans into my neck. A thousand butterflies erupt in my stomach, and heat radiates through me. “Unless I spend every night with your legs tangled around me, deal’s off.” His voice is barely a whisper as his lips trail soft kisses down my shoulder. My legs wrap instinctively around his waist pulling him into me. I can feel his hardness pressed against my leg, and the idea of the clothing that is separating us is driving me crazy. Jackson’s hand slides down into my underwear as his lips find mine. His hand and lips move in perfect synchronicity, causing my body to arc towards him. He brings a finger to my mouth, warning me to keep it down. His hand works faster, and just as my whole body is about to explode, he slides it away and gives me a coy grin. “These can’t have all the fun,” he says cockily just before sliding down and taking my breast in his mouth.

My entire body feels lit up, from the inside. I need Jackson. Right f-ucking now. I jerk his head upwards and unbutton his jeans. As I take him in my hands, a low groan emits from his throat. “This,” I say breathlessly, holding his eye, “this is what I want.”

Jackson was working hard to contain himself, I could see, but those words were the last straw. In one quick movement his jeans are off, and so are mine. Pinning my hands above my head, he pushes into me, slowly at first. Each thrust moves me closer and closer to the edge. His eyes never leave mine as I fight to suppress my screams. I’ve yelled his name a thousand times in my mind already. His lips find mine as my legs wrap fiercely around his waist, forcing him in deeper. As my body reaches its breaking point, I press my mouth onto Jackson’s, the only way to stop me from crying out. Jackson leans his head into my shoulder and lays over me. Neither of us wants to move. My body still feels live, like a sparking wire. His breath is ragged in my ear, our bodies sticky against each other. f-uck everything else, after what I just felt, no one can tell me that this is not real. We lay there for what feels like hours. Through the window, I can see the sun glowing iridescent as it sets over the horizon. This may be a brief moment of happiness in a fractured reality, but it’s worth it.

Jackson rolls onto his side and props his head on his elbows. “Did you mean it? You really want me to stay with you?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you want to,” I say cautiously. “I guess you’re useful,” I say eyeing his naked lower half coyly. The joke is just a ruse, my feeble attempt at hiding my own insecurities and fear of rejection. For as much as I trust Jackson, a part of me won’t let my guard down completely, and maybe I never will. Maybe I’m just destined to keep these defense mechanisms as a means of self-preservation.

Jackson trails a finger down my shoulder. “You’re most beautiful like this,” he says softly.

“After sex?” I laugh, imagining my over flushed cheeks and bedroom hair.

“That too, but I mean when you’re vulnerable. It’s honest.”

I shift uncomfortably. I don’t like vulnerable. Vulnerable and easily toyed with was the old me, the me that I need to forget and move on from.

Noticing my now tense demeanor, Jackson turns my cheek to face him. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t promise you I never will. I won’t promise you something that I can’t completely control. But I promise you that you can trust me. You can trust that I will try every day never to hurt you.” A solitary tear rolls down my cheek as I avoid Jackson’s eyes. “Forget telling you, let me show you.”

He pulls me onto his lap, sitting me up and kisses me softly, a kiss so sweet yet so filled with passion that it weakens my legs and sends a delicious shiver down my spine. He slides me onto him and rocks me tenderly, holding me firmly against him. The room around me fades as my body surrenders, soul and all, to Jackson. A realization hits me as my fingers knead into his back. I let him into my world, I already have, and I’m terrified of losing him. This is one broken heart I couldn’t live with. I hold on to him with every fiber of my being.

Eventually we manage to disentangle ourselves, spent and completely euphoric. We decide on separate showers because truthfully, the exhaustion versus the temptation of being naked in such close proximity to each other is a conundrum all on its own.

I feel eyes on me as I slide my jeans up my thighs. “What?” I ask.

“So, do you feel like going out tonight?” Jackson asks apprehensively, avoiding my gaze. I get the distinct impression that he wants me to decline.

“To where?” A nervous knot forms in my stomach.

“Emmanuel invited us to go to a club.” Jackson sighs, as though he’s waiting on the torrent of expletives that should leave my mouth at the mention of Emmanuel’s name and the suggestion that I actually spend more than five seconds in the fool’s company.

“You should go,” I reply, walking over and lacing my fingers round the back of his head. “I think he’s an *, but he is your friend, so go.” The words exit my mouth with confident fluidity, but every part of me wants to beg him to stay here with me. Jesus, I hate this neediness that Jackson has stirred in me. Such weakness.