Mine Would Be You (77)

Committing the sound to memory.

The pressure builds again between my thighs and deep in my stomach, and I grip his shoulders tightly as one of his palms spreads flat on my back, pressing us together tightly. I can feel his chest rise and fall with every short breath, and his fingers dig into my back.

And before I know it, he’s spinning us over until I’m on my back. Quickly, he has my hands intertwined with his, and he holds them above my head, stretching me and taking control.

“Jackson,” I breathe out as he rolls his hips in a terribly addicting rhythm. “You’re killing me.” My fingers curls around his as my pulse quickens and my skin heats.

He leans down, lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck. “You killed me first.”

A laugh bubbles past my lips but it quickly turns into a breathless moan. He settles in between my drawn-up knees, pushing them out with his body. I fight to have my hands back, burning to touch him as he strokes slowly. And I need him to kiss me, to do anything but torture me slowly. Jackson trails kisses everywhere but my lips, over my hot chest, my heart pounding painfully, up my neck as he takes me higher with each stroke.

My body is burning, all for him, and I would’ve waited years more if it meant he was at the finish line.

“Come on, baby,” he says huskily against my lips.

Every time he calls me that, I forget my name for a second. And in the haze of my pleasure, I almost beg him to never call me anything but that again.

“I want it all Nina,” he whispers softly against my neck, nipping at the skin. “Every inch of you, every sound that leaves your mouth.” He slows, drawing out the torture he’s delivering so beautifully well. “I want you.”

I dig my nails into his palms where they’re held hostage and push up against him, feeling him everywhere as my body tenses. He lets go with one hand and drags it down my hot skin until he’s pressing against me in rhythm with his body.

My grip tightens as he brushes his lips against mine. “Only if you give me the same,” I murmur against him. After a moment, he slips his tongue between my lips in a silent but addicting answer.

I can feel a tremor pass over his body as the sensations burn through me. And the loud, throaty groan against my throat he lets out as he comes echoes in my head and all around me over and over again. The pressure peaks again and blossoms out, setting my nerves on fire in one single burst, spreading all over my skin until I’m slowly burning in the best way seconds after him.

This man might very well be the death of me.

His body slows, his breath still coming in short pants as I sink into the mattress and my entire body relaxes, my hands still in his hold. After a moment of us just simply catching our breath, he leans up and kisses me softly, warmly, relaxing me further. He lets go of my hands as we lay there, him on his side and me tucked as close to him as I can get. My leg between his and my chest against his own.

The silence is comfortable, it always has been with him. But I want to hear him talk to me.

“Tell me, have you always been this beautiful?” I ask. I brush my thumb over his nose and press it against his lips. He nips it in response, his cheeks flushed. From my words or our actions, I’m not sure. When he stays silent, I continue. “I mean it. Not just your looks Jackson, but everything about you. Your optimism, your quiet strength, the way you care about people.” I shake my head, moving closer. “The way you care about me.”

Jackson smiles softly when I blink, clearing the emotion from my eyes. “Don’t even try it, Valentina. Have you seen yourself?” The heat of his body seeps into mine. “You’re one of the most loving people I know. You would go to war for the people you love, and you’d make them cupcakes for the journey there. You’re confident and you’re funny and you light up entire rooms when you enter them.” He traces over the dark spot on my bottom lip. “I can’t get enough. Of you, of everything that makes you who you are. And your smile, I think I love that more than anything.”

He leans in, tugging at my bottom lip with his teeth before ending it in a soft kiss. “And I hate that I’m leaving because I’m going to miss you too.”

It feels like flowers are blooming on my heart at those words. Even though he’s leaving, and I have no idea what will happen, if his dad will be okay, if he will, I enjoy the fact that I’m feeling something I never thought I’d feel again.

Except it doesn’t feel like falling this time. It feels like flying.

And I hope neither of us has to crash.





The Georgia heat suffocates me as I step out of the sterile hospital environment.

The front desk greets me as I exit, for almost the fifth week in a row, and I recognize almost everyone on staff by now. I could do this in my sleep. Every day, I head down the left hall towards the cardio department, to the D elevator up to the fourth floor, turn left, and walk past the first nurses’ station, and head eight rooms down to the left. And to leave, I just retrace my steps.

I hate how easy it’s become.

The weight sits heavy on my shoulders.

The first two weeks I was here, it wasn’t so bad. My dad smiled at me, giving me a big hug and ignoring his instructions to not get out of the hospital bed. He was still strong with the lean strength he always carried with him from building all sorts of things for Mom or for the house, the strength he had from always moving, always finding something to do, and his volunteer hours at the fire station. And he was so happy to see me. My entire family let me spend most of the first week with him alone, only stopping in to say hi or make sure he was doing okay.