CHAPTER 67

west

H is warmth , the spice of his soap, the rough calluses in his touch. I was fucking sky high, my nerves ablaze and misfiring all over the place. His fingers skated up my sides as I walked him across the room, dripping wet and not caring. My teeth scraped over his lower lip, and I drank up the moan he let out.

We collapsed on the bed. As I settled between his thighs, Jackson ran his hands up my side. The simple gesture sent a myriad of sensations rolling through my body. When his fingers skated over the scars on my ribs, pain laced the pleasure. I went rigid, instinctively grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“It’s okay,” Jackson whispered. “Do you want to stop, West?”

“Just…” I shook my head, struggling to find the words. How did I make it make sense to him? I couldn’t explain them—the reminder of them. “Not there… just… don’t touch them…”

“Okay.” He lifted off the pillow and kissed me, slow and reassuring, while moving his hand to my lower back. I flexed my hips against his and groaned at the friction it created. My nerves lit up violently in a way that I couldn’t control. Couldn’t predict. My chest tightened .

Focus.

I could do this. I wanted this.

I wanted a normal relationship with Jackson. He deserved it.

I could fucking do that for him.

Dragging my tongue up the length of his neck, I used the taste of water and sweat to ground myself. When I sank my teeth lightly into his neck, the sound he made only helped. Who knew Jackson could make such sexy goddamn sounds?

His hand wrapped around my cock and his, stroking both of us slowly. The feel of his hand, the way his dick moved against mine, the pounding of my own heart… it was all so overwhelming.

Good? Bad? I couldn’t tell.

It was too much.

That familiar clawing built in my chest—tearing me apart little by little. I desperately tried to drag myself back from the edge, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough.

I couldn’t focus enough to stay grounded in the moment. Breathing was a fucking chore. I was suffocating in my own skin—dying without certainty.

“I can’t… I can’t…” I let out pathetically, whimpering as I rolled away from him. I damn near scrambled to the other side of the bed to put as much space between him and me as possible.

”Okay. It’s okay,” Jackson said. The bed shifted as he hurried to get up, moving across the room.

I slung an arm over my face as hot tears burned a trail down my face. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t handle the idea of him looking at me. The blinding need to run away clawed through me, but I promised I wouldn’t. It took everything I had to stay rooted in place.

“I put pants and a shirt on the bed for you,” he told me softly. “Get dressed. My eyes are shut, but I ain’t going nowhere, okay? I’m right here, West.”

The shirt was too much. Just the thought of it on my skin was awful. Hell, the way the sheet rubbed against my skin was fucking torture. I managed to pull on the athletic pants while Jackson sat down on his side of the bed, eyes closed like he promised he would. The small gesture was appreciated—somehow giving me back a little bit of control over my body .

But when I was dressed, I just stood there like an idiot. How the hell did we move past this? How did I make him not hate me after this?

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed all at once. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide and avoid him all over again.

“Just lay down,” he replied. “Stay, West.”

He wanted me to stay? Why the fuck would he want me to stay? I struggled to understand that. Why didn’t he see what I was?

Pathetic and broken.

I wasn’t fucking worth it.

“Lay down, West,” Jackson repeated. The gentleness in his voice killed me. I’d never deserve someone like him.

But I made myself lay down again. I put as much distance between us as I could, hugging the edge of the bed. The idea of any contact with him kept me there. My skin crawled painfully and everything fucking hurt.

Closing the distance between us, Jackson carefully took my hand. I tensed at the contact—his fingers like razors across my skin. Instead of holding my hand, he placed my fingers over his pulse before letting go of me completely.

Steady and strong.

The feel of his heartbeat under my fingers was soothing—a needed comfort. The simple gesture shattered something in my chest. A sob I had no hope of controlling tore through me, the quiet sound filling the silence. I buried my face in my elbow to hide from him as I lost the fight to stop them.

“It’s okay, West,” Jackson said. “This right here is more than enough.”

I wanted to believe him so fucking bad, but I just didn’t see what he did.