Ready or Not (Ready #4)(54)

She ended the call and turned to me, letting out a deep breath that she must have been holding for far too long.

“Want a milkshake?” I remembered that night in the diner when I’d sworn I’d always be there to remind her of happy days when the rough ones came along. I thought today was one of those days.

“Can we get Noah first?” she asked.

Smiling, I nodded. “Of course. You just have to tell me where he is first.”

“Deal.”

~Liv~

What did one wear to a dinner like this?

What outfit said, I’m all grown up, and I did it without any of your money or help?

I looked at my closet, full of vibrant hues and rich tones, and my shoulders slumped in defeat.

Right now, I felt anything but grown up. I felt much more like the twenty-year-old college girl I’d left behind—the one who sat on bare floors because she was too scared to spend any money on furniture, fearing she might never get a job, and the one who spent weeks and months hoping to see her father on her doorstep, begging her to come home. But he never did, and that young girl had eventually stopped looking out the window for a man who wasn’t coming. She’d found a job and carved out a tiny piece of the world for herself—without anyone else to help her.

It was amazing how one call could reduce eight years to nothing.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand near my bed, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. Moving quickly, I nabbed the phone, saw Jackson’s name, and smiled.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Let me guess. You’re standing in front of your closet, trying to decide what to wear?” His baritone voice made my mood instantly lighten.

“How did you know that?” I asked.

“Did you know,” he started, his voice growing deeper, “that our rooms are directly across from each other? And right now, your curtains are wide open. Nice bra by the way.”

I laughed, looking immediately out the window, and I saw him standing there in nothing but a pair of tight boxer briefs. With one arm above him, he leaned against the window frame, holding his phone against his ear with his free hand. It was a good look, and I couldn’t help but step closer.

“I forgot the master bedrooms in these houses faced each other. Mrs. Reid always kept her curtains shut. She liked her afternoon naps,” I commented with a grin.

“I’m much more partial to the view.”

“It’s not so bad from this side either.”

“Take off your bra,” he commanded, “and grab that chair you have in the corner. You’re going to give me a show.”

My stomach clenched in anticipation. I normally hated being ordered around in the bedroom, but with Jackson, it was thrilling.

Grabbing the chair in front of my antique vanity, I positioned it in front of the window and took a seat. Ever so slowly, I made a show of unhooking my bra and letting the black lace fall down, revealing my full breasts.

“Now, the panties, Liv,” he growled.

Still holding the phone to my ear, I stood and pulled one side of my thong down and then the other until they fell to the floor.

“Good. Now, sit back down. I want to watch you touch yourself, over and over, until you’re screaming out my name.”

“So bossy,” I teased.

“I like to think of it as assertive and sexy. Besides, it doesn’t take a window for me to figure you out. You need this distraction right now just as badly as I do. I know you more than you realize.”

He did. I didn’t know how, but in the short amount of time we’d known each other, he’d managed to weasel his way in and learn the many sides of me.

Right now, he knew the one thing I needed most of all was a distraction from the evening we were about to begin. I was quite fond of his choice of distractions.

My hand slipped down my body toward the juncture of my thighs.

“That’s it, sweetheart—nice and slow.”

Parting my slick folds, I stroked myself once, moving up toward my clit. I circled the sensitive nub, involuntarily moaning from each tantalizing caress.

“Spread your legs. I want to see all of you.”

My legs shifted farther apart, giving a clear view of my most intimate parts and the way I was touching them.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed into the speaker.

Syllables, words, and sentences escaped me. So focused on my own pleasure, I could only respond with a deep moan as I sunk two fingers deep inside my core.

“Faster. Work those fingers faster, Liv,” he dictated.

I listened. Placing my thumb on my clit, I f*cked myself, moving my fingers in and out, as I rocked my body against them.

“Jackson,” I managed to say.

There was no answer.

“Jackson!” I yelled as I felt myself growing close.

Suddenly, a loud noise from downstairs startled me, and hurried feet rushed up the stairs.

Before I had a second to cover myself, he appeared, standing in my doorway. He’d barely pulled down his jeans over his boxers briefs, which were now straining against the ridge of his hard cock.

With his hand pointed toward the bed, he ordered, “Hands and knees—now.”

His eyes were wild with desire, and I knew he was probably hanging on by a string. I didn’t waste any time. I stood from my chair in front of the window. As I walked past him, my hands brushed his bare chest, and his breath hissed out in response.