22. Mandy

My head felt like it was going to explode—literally.

I grunted as I rolled over, a pillow clutched between my arms and legs, and squinted my eyes open the moment I felt something warm against my hand. Wherever I was it wasn't my room. There was a hint of blue light coming from Jackson's phone as he scrolled aimlessly through social media…

Jack.

Despite the pounding in my head, I suddenly felt wide awake. Where's my dress? I had on shorts and a big T-shirt. Where am I? Jack's house. How? He picked me up. Slowly the events from the night before began filtering in, memories assaulting me one after the other. On one hand, I was thankful that I'd never been the type of person to forget anything that happened on a drunken night out, but on the other, I wished I didn't remember throwing up down the front of his hoodie.

"Oh my God," I mumbled, burying my face in the pillow beneath my head as I clung to the one in my arms.

Jackson chuckled as he laid his phone facedown against his bare chest. "Good morning, princess. How are we feeling?"

"Morning?" I breathed, peeking out at him over the crest of the sheets. It was so dark I could barely make out the features of his face, could only see the small amount of light in the room reflecting off his eyes. "It's the middle of the night."

"It's eleven in the morning, Mandy," Jack drawled, his body shifting beneath the covers. "It's just the blackout blinds."

I groaned as I rubbed at my eyes, my headache annoyingly localized behind only one of them. It made me want to gouge it out of my skull. "I feel like I want to die."

"Do you not want me to open the blinds, then?"

I shook my head, the sheets rustling beneath me and filling my ears painfully. "You can open them."

He rolled to his left, his hand reaching out toward the bedside table. One click of a button and light began to filter in from behind me, his upper body coming into view muchclearer than before.

"I'm sorry I threw up on you." He turned back, every muscle in his chest rippling as he fought to get the covers over him before I saw the tattoo.

But it was too late.

My hand reached out instinctually, stopping him from covering the little bit of ink on his left pectoral. My fingers on his bare skin, his breathing shuddered as I traced the lines, any existing thought evacuating my mind. A tiny panda, fairly simplistic. The view was from the side as it sat on its butt, his face peering down at the little crown in front of him, lying limply on the ground. I couldn't breathe.

"Please don't," he whispered, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "It's nothing."

It wasn't nothing. It was something, it was everything.

Gently, he wrapped his fingers around mine, removing my hand. "I'll run you a bath, okay? We should get you cleaned up."

I watched as he shuffled out from under the sheets, his boxers clinging far too tightly to his ass, his bulge. He disappeared around the frame of a door, leaving me alone in his massive bedroom, the sound of the faucet turning on and water running filtering through.

Two of the four walls in his room were glass, the blackout blinds sitting on electric wheels at the top of them. What I assumed was usually greenery filled the view, a few auburn leaves left from the change of the season, most of the trees bare and stiff from the cold. Little specks of snow fell between them, coating the already white ground below. It was peaceful and calm. I couldn't remember the drive here, I'd likely fallen asleep, but based on the view I assumed we were about halfway up one of the mountains just outside of Boulder's main center.

It was a completely different environment than my plain ol' neighborhood.

I tried not to let my eyes wander back to the ink on his chest as Jack came back in, his jaw steeled as he walked over to my side of the bed. "Come on, princess," he said, offering me a hand.

I winced as I sat up, the pain filtering back in and slamming against my left eyeball. I took his offer as I covered my eye with my free hand, planting my feet on the ground, slowly lifting myself out of bed. The world turned on its axis, the wobble of last night still ever-present. I almost lost my footing entirely as Jack wrapped an arm around me to keep me steady, and it definitely wasn't because of the hangover.

He ushered me into the bathroom, the tile beneath my feet warm to the touch. Of course he has heated floors. The room was grand, about half the size of his bedroom. A large garden tub sat separate from the fully tiled, glass-walled shower that looked like it could easily fit a basketball team. "I'll find some decent clothes for you while you relax. I doubt you'll want to go home in your dress."

I turned, catching another quick glimpse of the tattoo as Jack walked back to the door. "Wait," I breathed. He paused. Nerves bubbled in my stomach, my chest aching, my head throbbing. "Stay."

He blew out a breath, the muscles in his arms flexing as he clenched his hands into fists. "You don't want that."

"I do."

"Mandy…"

"Please," I added, my fingers grasping at the hem of the oversized shirt covering me. I didn't have the energy to fight him on it. I couldn't hate him right now. Not after last night and how he'd taken care of me, and definitely not after I'd seen what marked his chest. I couldn't even try to pretend.

I lifted the shirt up and over my head, baring my upper body to him. Somehow, despite the glaringly obvious fact that I'd had sex with him recently, this felt more intimate. Maybe because in our haste we'd been too turned on to even get undressed. He hadn't seenme fully naked in ten years, and I could tell that just the sight was enough to fluster him.

The tub, nearly full, was big enough for both of us. "Help me get cleaned up?" I asked quietly.

A beat of silence passed, his eyes hooked on me. But then he moved, feet padding across the floor one slow step at a time. His chest met mine as he pushed me back into the counter, one hand on my cheek. His eyes were wide, his pupils massive as they flicked between my own, his lips parted just barely. "This is a line we haven't crossed," he breathed. "If you want this, there's no going back."

A knot formed in my throat, big enough to choke me. I nodded.

So slowly, so softly, I felt like I could have imagined it. He placed a little kiss on my forehead as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of the shorts I had on. I could feel his heart hammering against his chest, and with one breath, he pushed the garment down, letting it pool at my feet. He placed his hands under the slope of my rear, lifting me up onto the ledge, and I immediately wished his heated floors had been extended to include the counter too.

I made a move to remove the ring, not entirely sure if I should wear it in water or not, but his hand stopped me. "Leave it on."

His boxers fell, joining the shorts, and when he slotted himself back between my parted thighs I thought I might pass out. "Jack."

He lifted me again, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist and my pussy to rest just above his cock. He was hard, but he paid it no mind as he carried us over to the tub and climbed the steps to the bath, stepping into the warm water. Slowly, he crouched down, submerging my lower half, and stretched out his legs in front of him so could sit.

The water was perfect. Not boiling, but enough to warm my body, my bones. He didn't need to say a word as he tipped me backward, my back arching, my breasts rising and falling with my breath as I soaked my hair thoroughly. I could feel his gaze on them, could feel the heat from his hand as he gripped my waist to give me leverage.

I righted myself, his hands doing every bit of the work for me. I couldn't choose what I wanted to watch more—his eyes, his mouth, his hands or the panda bear tattoo. My hand found its way back to it, tracing each little individual, simplistic line as he covered my hair in shampoo, working it into every single strand.

"Do you like it?"

I couldn't decide. A part of me felt so fucking swollen with emotion that I wanted to cherish it forever, stare at it forever, but then another part of me, the more sensible and reasonable side, wanted to scream at him for marking himself as permanently mine. But even that made the butterflies take off in my gut. "Yeah," I breathed.

"I was worried you'd hate me even more if you saw it," he sighed. His fingers ran the shampoo through to the ends until he coaxed me back again, my spine curving, my breasts up. He rinsed every drop from my hair.

"I almost did," I admitted, my voice small, strained from the position. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to calm down, forcing myself to focus on the feel of his body against mine, his hands on me. It felt too right, too perfect. "A part of me still wants to scream at you for it."

"You can if you want to." He lifted me back up, my soaked-through hair clinging to my breasts, my back. "I deserve it."

"You don't." I wasn't sure if I believed the words that came out, but I didn't give myself the chance to take them back. I didn't want to.

"You called me it last night," he whispered. I leaned into him as his fingers traced my jaw, my lips. "Do you remember?"

Thanks, panda bear. It had slipped out in my inebriated state, the nickname so easily finding its home again. I blushed, my lips twitching upward in the smallest smile imaginable.

"It's okay. It was nice to hear it again."

His fingers slid beneath my ear, behind my neck, holding me. Too nice. Too much. I didn't resist as he pulled me closer. His lips met mine, tentative and soft. I didn't want to fight him anymore, I didn't want to pull away from him. I wanted him, and that was okay. It had to be.

My heartbeat kicked into overdrive as I let myself feel what I wanted to. I kissed him back, eagerly and needy, bringing my bare and wet body flush against his. His free hand slid around my waist, holding me tight to him, not giving me an inch of space as he met my urgency and desperation. Lips against lips, teeth, and tongues; it was too much to put into words. We let our bodies do the talking instead.

Sex with him on his jet was nothing compared to how this felt. This was ten years of lost time. Thiswas two people who should never have been separated. Thiswas bleeding nails against a brick wall, trying to get to one another.

His lips moved, nipping and kissing my jaw, my neck as he rotated us. He lifted me up, out of the water, my ass landing solidly on the hard edge of the tub where it met solid marble. He slotted himself between my legs, the hard length of him laying flush against my wetness as his hands explored the rest of me.

His fingers cupped my breasts, his tongue soothing the little nip he'd left below my ear. "I want this, Mandy," he breathed, his grip against my breasts turning just a little rougher, pulling a little moan from me. "I need it."

My legs dangled in the water as he leaned me back enough to kiss his way down my chest, his lips locking around my left nipple. His tongue dragged across it, slowly, then quickly, causing more sounds to escape from my throat. "Take it, then," I replied, my shoulders hitting marble, the biting cold of it making me gasp.

"This is more than last time?—"

"I know." I gripped the back of his neck, forcing him to look at me.

He held my gaze as his fingers trailed down my body, slipping between my parted thighs. Featherlight, he ghosted across my bundle of nerves, slick already from too much passion and need. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," I breathed. His touch grew stronger, little circles around my clit as he positioned the tip of his cock at my entrance.

"Would you have said yes? If I'd asked you to marry me, if I'd never left, would you have said yes?"

My breath halted and he slid in halfway, my grip tightening on him as my body adjusted to his width. The knot in my throat returned with a vengeance, his question throwing me for a loop. I don't know. I don't?—

"Mandy." He said sternly, drawing my attention back to him, back to his body, his cock inside of me. He slid in further, slowly, achingly, until his hips were flush against my own. "Answer the question, princess."

"I…" Heat flushed my cheeks as he pushed my thighs up, giving himself a bit more room to sink even deeper. The sensation was unreal, better than before, too much and not enough. I needed more. I needed him. Always had, always would. "Yes. I would have said yes."

He breathed out shakily as he lifted his mouth from my breast, eagerly finding my lips instead. His hips began to move, slowly at first, gentle little thrusts. My mind fogged as he kissed me, everything else falling to the wayside. The hangover, me chucking up on him, his question, my own questions. Ten years disappeared in the blink of an eye, and it was just us, nothing else but the water sloshing in the tub around his thighs as he made love to me.

I absolutely would have said yes. Had he not disappeared and we'd carried on the way we were, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. He was the closest thing I'd ever found to happiness, to a fulfilling relationship that didn't end in violence or screaming. He was the only one I'd ever let get close enough.

"Fuck," he grunted, his thrusting picking up the pace as his free hand interlocked with one of mine. "You're perfect. So goddamn perfect."

I could feel the pleasure building in my gut already, tempting me, baiting me. It was as if he remembered every curve of my body, every movement I liked. As if he'd stored it in his mind for ten years in some kind of time capsule, ready to go the moment he needed it. Perfect little movements with his fingers, the exact angle I needed for him to hit that spot inside of me that made me want to scream out in unabashed pleasure, exactly how I wanted to be touched and spoken to. It was too intense. Everything with him was.

His fingers squeezed my own. "Tell me what else you want," he growled, his face contorting with pleasure with every thrust. "Anything, princess. I'll give it to you."

"Nothing." I dragged my free hand down from his neck, right on top of the panda tattoo. I gripped him, digging my nails into his skin. "Just you."

His eyes flared as they met mine, his thrusts harder, his fingers working faster. His pupils were wide enough that I could see myself reflected in them. "You already have me."

My orgasm snuck up on me far too rapidly, my moans escalating with every touch, every thrust. I crashed over the edge, ecstasy ripping through my veins like a wildfire, nails in flesh and back arched. A cry tore from my throat, loud enough to hurt as my body locked and released, holding onto him, refusing to let him go.

He kissed me, coaxed me through it, his hips still moving, faster and more wanting. He groaned against my lips as he took my hands in his, holding them above my head. Sputtered grunts and desperation left him as he found his release, filling me so completely, warm liquid spilling down into the water below.

Our breathing ragged and strained, he held me as he kissed me. Wet flesh against wet flesh. The height of our orgasms still coursing through us, I'd lost any filter I had on my words, my thoughts. "I still love you." My voice cracked, my eyes burned. I didn't want this to end. I was giving him myself on a silver fucking platter again.

He pulled back, just an inch. He searched my eyes for any hint of deceit, any glimmer of the part of me that still hated him for everything. She wasn't here. "And I still love you," he muttered, his fingers squeezing mine.