Jackson (Wild Boys After Dark, #3)(9)

Her body melted against his mouth as he loved his way down it, circling her nipples with his tongue, then squeezing one while he sucked the other, all the while pressing his eager length against her but never entering her, and driving her absolutely out of her mind.

“I love your body,” he said in a gravelly voice as he inched lower. “You’re trembling.”

“Need, not cold,” she managed, reaching for him.

His hands slid down her ribs to her waist and gripped her tight. His strong touch brought her hips off the blanket, begging for his mouth. He read her perfectly as his hot breath stroked over her wet flesh. The first stroke of his tongue sent shivers through her. He licked her inner thighs, so close to her sex she felt every inch of her reaching for him, begging for him. She couldn’t resist reaching down and stroking her clit. His tongue slid punishingly slowly over her fingers.

“You taste so sweet.” His voice sent her hips up again.

“Lick me,” she begged.

His mouth came down on her inner thigh, and he sucked, sending exquisite, teasing prickles through her.

“Please, Jackson.”

That brought his fingers to her nipple, squeezing just hard enough to make her whole body quiver. No one had ever been able to read her body, play her body, love her body the way he did. Ever. And she knew no one ever would. He took his time, torturing her, taunting her, every touch sending her deeper into oblivion, carrying her higher, and higher still. Her head flailed from side to side as words streamed from her lips—Please. Now. Fuck me. Too much. Can’t take it.

He groaned and licked, nipped, and sucked, and finally—Lord, finally—his mouth came down on her where she needed it most. She pulled her hand out from between her legs, and he gripped her wrist.

“Don’t stop,” he said roughly. “I f*cking love watching you touch yourself.”

Hearing that in a voice full of greed sent her into the clutch of another intense orgasm, and she cried out his name as he slid his fingers inside her.

“Jack—son—”

“That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

In one swift move he came down upon her and thrust into her throbbing sex. He gripped her shoulders, and her whole being flooded with desire as her senses spun out of control. Her hips bucked and her back arched, meeting his hard, muscular chest, as they both succumbed to the power of their passion. She felt every pulse of his release, every beat of his heart. As they hurtled past the point of no return, the only thought Laney could hold on to was the one she’d never been able to escape—Jackson, Jackson, Jackson.

***

JACKSON CAME OUT from under the fog of lust slowly. Despite the heat coursing through every inch of his body, the sheen of sweat he’d earned chilled his skin. He became aware of Laney trembling beneath him. He knew from the way she’d tucked her legs beneath his and folded her arms across her chest that she was seeking warmth. It was always like this with Laney after they’d made love. He was transported, and any other thoughts ceased to exist. The sound of water snapped his mind into action.

Clothes. Laney needed them. Now.

He kissed her quickly. “I think our clothes went downstream.” He helped her sit up and wrapped the blanket securely around her, then grabbed her socks and boots from the edge of the water. At least she still had those.

He crouched in front of her, ignoring the chilly air against his bare skin, and put her socks on her feet, then went to work situating her feet in her boots and lacing up them up.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked sweetly. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks still flushed. He loved how she looked after they’d f*cked.

Hell, he loved the way she looked any time of day or night. The longer he stewed over the proposal, the more he was coming to understand just how much he loved the things he’d taken for granted for all these years. And how much he’d miss them if she married Bryce.

He pushed thoughts of the proposal away and shrugged. “I’m fine. Are you okay with the blanket? I want to walk downstream and see if I can find our clothes.”

“I’m fine. Sorry about the fishing rod.”

He leaned forward, one hand beside each of her hips, and kissed her again. “Totally worth it,” he assured her. He stayed there for a moment, looking into the eyes of the best friend he’d ever known, and tried to envision a life without her bursting through his door and demanding sex, or a quart of ice cream, or a night out together. A life where she wasn’t a given, but a gift. A life where she kissed another man as her own and their intimacy no longer existed.

“Jackson. You’re shaking.” She touched his cheek, bringing him back to the present.

“I’m fine.” He was totally not fine, but he wasn’t about to lay that on Laney. She had a good, honest man offering her what every woman wanted—a future with one man and probably one day a family.

He pushed to his feet, unable to comprehend the idea of Laney having children with some other guy. What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he always known their arrangement couldn’t last forever? That one day she’d be swept off her feet and would move on?

And what was wrong with him that he wasn’t out looking for the same? He’d watched his older brothers, Logan and Heath, fall madly in love with their fiancées, Stormy and Ally, and they were happier than he’d ever imagined anyone could be. Shouldn’t that have flicked some sort of switch in his brain and made him want the same? He glanced over his shoulder at Laney, and in that moment he knew that even his brothers didn’t have as strong of an impact on him as Laney did.