Chapter 9

9

HARPER

I s it possible to lose my mind for only two hours? If so, that’s definitely what happened last night. Momentary insanity. Twenty-five and I’ve just had my first kiss. My first orgasm with another person and it was with Jackson “perfect face” Harris. Jesus Christ.

Soft light of dawn filters in through the edges of my blackout curtains. Even in the darkness of the bedroom, I can easily trace Jackson’s face with my eyes. His skin is the most beautiful shade of brown, adding to his unfairly beautiful face. I carefully trace one of his thick eyebrows with the tip of my fingers, pleased when he stays sound asleep despite my lingering touch.

He’s the earth-stopping type of gorgeous, skin as soft as satin. When he’d kissed me in the dark of the club, my heart had shot off like a firework through my chest. Frozen, like an animal caught in a trap, all I could focus on was the silky softness of his lips moving gently against mine. Thinking about the kiss even now makes my skin flush with want.

It’s terrifying, to want someone, but not know exactly how. Sure, I’m a virgin, but I’ve watched porn. I know what happens and I know what I want. Only the details get blurry when I think about it too hard. Being a fumbling virgin in bed with Jackson would be beyond humiliating.

I want to be everything he wants, everything he could ever dream of having. But at the end of the day, I’m still just me.

Plain old Harper.

The seizure kid.

Adopted by parents who wish they’d gotten a healthy kid, not a fucked-up one.

Jackson will have me, get bored of me, and move on. There is no reason to want to keep me. But he’s so convinced of his want that I don’t have the energy to deny him anymore. So I’ll give in. When I’m old and gray and lonely, I’ll remember the hot guy who fucked me a few times before moving on to greener, prettier pastures. A morbid thought, but oddly comforting.

Honey huffs loudly in the corner, her signal that she’s awake and wants to be let out. Leaving Jackson in the bed feels weird, but Honey will always come first. I have my priorities. Jackson proves just how sound of a sleeper he is as he keeps snoring softly while I get dressed, halfway falling over as I pull on a loose pair of sweatpants.

I impatiently rub at my arms while waiting for Honey to do her business. A chilly breeze blows past me, whipping my hair around my shoulders. Lifting my head into the cool wind, a smile curves my lips up. For just one moment in time, I’m free. I take these moments when I can, as they’re so far and few between. My favorite moments are the ones where I forget even for just a moment about the seizures, about the medicine, about everything except just being alive.

A yip of joy from Honey startles me out of the blissful moment.

Her body shakes and wiggles as she bolts up the wood stairs of the porch, running right past me. Jackson fills the frame of the back door, all broad shoulders, wearing just his undone jeans from the night before. God. He belongs on the cover of a romance novel. Except no, I’d hate that. No matter how many people have fucked him before me, while he’s with me, he’s mine. At least I can pretend so.

“Morning,” Jackson says, eyes still squinted with sleep.

“Morning.” I don’t know what to do, so I settle on saluting him.

Jackson’s lips tremble with a smile. “Your bed is extremely comfortable.”

“It should be. It cost me a lot of money.”

Jackson lifts his arms to grip the top of the doorframe, leaning out as he does so. My eyes automatically fall to the expanse of bare skin of his torso. The rippling muscle makes my mouth water. An embarrassing flush starts to creep up my neck, so I avert my gaze away.

“Do you have plans today?” Jackson asks, a smile in his voice.

I shake my head. “No. I mean yes. Yes. I have plans.”

“Oh?” Jackson’s tone is disbelieving. I hate him.

“I have very important things to do,” I tell him haughtily, lifting my chin in the air.

Jackson lets go of the doorframe with a disbelieving sigh. He stalks toward me, stride purposeful. I swallow loudly once he comes to a stop in front of me. Fuck. I wish last night we’d been able to do more before sleep came for me. What does his skin taste like? I wonder if he’ll let me sit in his lap as we make out. If I begged just right, would he be rough with me? Will his eyes darken if I call him Daddy?

His fingers gently grip my chin, turning my face up more until it slightly hurts to swallow. Thumb dragging along the length of my throat, he leans down to suck at the spot where my pulse pounds. My knees go weak at the touch of his lips, wildfire igniting in my veins. I bring my hands up to cup the breadth of his ribs, feeling them contract with his breaths under my touch. Last night I had wrapped my legs around his hips, knees over his ribs. Our size difference didn’t feel so insurmountable then, not like it does now.

Satisfied with sucking on my neck, Jackson nuzzles against my throat, then trails his nose up my face to bury in my hair. His fingers tighten in my hair, tugging my head just far enough back that it’s slightly uncomfortable.

“Harper,” Jackson says roughly.

The sound of his voice makes me melt in his grip. His other arm loops around my waist, tugging me even closer against the extreme heat of his body. Jesus. He’s so warm. I’m constantly cold, fingers freezing. Jackson is a furnace compared to me.

This time, Jackson sighs loudly. “I thought we worked it out last night. Are you going to still fight me like a rabid animal every step of the way?”

My nose scrunches in annoyance. “Rabid?”

“Like a fucking coyote,” Jackson declares. He lets go of me and takes a few steps back, then pivots on his feet to face me square on again. “I’ll let you have the day. But next weekend I’m taking you out.”

“As in kill me?” I ask, lips curling up in a smile.

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Regretfully, no.”

Jackson disappears into the house without so much as a word. I assume the conversation is done, that he’s gone, so I dip down on the stairs to sit in the early morning air. Honey returns to sit beside me, a heavy, comforting weight at my side. I tilt my head against the wood railing of the stairs, suddenly overwhelmingly tired.

The sound of Jackson’s footfalls makes my head pivot to the side, just in time for him to crouch low behind me. His fingers slide tenderly through my hair and his lip twitches at the corner, as if he’s holding back a tender smile. My traitorous heart leaps and loops in my chest just at the thought of him smiling only for me. I wish his smile belonged to me, just to catch and hold when I most need it. Smiles shouldn’t be that beautiful, that gut-wrenching.

“Please let me treat you good,” Jackson begs, voice a soft whisper.

“I’m not used to it,” I admit. I rarely let others see me vulnerable, taught too many times that vulnerability is weakness.

His thumb rubs at the edge of my jaw. “You need to learn.”

He bends down further to kiss me, uncaring about both of our morning breaths. His lips are silk-soft still, even dry, as they move against my own. When he pulls away, I feel an odd sense of loss. Like losing a limb, his touch now just a phantom weight.

“I’ll text you, punk.” Jackson stands to his full height to tower over us.

Honey’s tail thumps, and she whines as he disappears back into the house. I pat the top of her head, squeezing at her ears in the way she loves.

“He’ll be back. Maybe. If he doesn’t change his mind.”

Honey whines again as if in disagreement with my assessment. Great. Now even my dog is sick of my shit.

Halfway through the week, Andy demands that I visit her at the farm on her lunch break. The twenty-minute rideshare costs me a pretty penny, mostly because there weren’t any drivers in the area. I always have to pay a premium to get someone out in my neck of the woods. Annoying but it had to be done. Plus, the farm is one of my safe spaces when it’s empty.

The driver speeds away in a plume of dirt. At least he was mostly silent. Andy’s waiting for me just outside the office, a warm grin tilting her lips up. She looks the same as usual. Work jeans, tight curls in a messy bun, and weirdly happy just at the sight of me.

“Figured we could make Joey fix us lunch and have a little girlie chat.”

I groan. “You know I hate it when you call it that.”

Andy lets out a long-suffering, pained sigh. “Fine. A bestie chat.”

We amble together through the empty crowd, heading straight for Joey’s food truck. Andy loops her arm through mine and the smell of her sweet, familiar perfume wafts over me. I look around for Beau, but don’t see him. Odd. The man is usually somewhere on the farm.

“It’s his day off,” Andy supplies, noticing me looking for Beau.

“I forgot.”

Andy takes my hand in hers, rubbing at the palm of my hand. “Joey has all the fixings for a blueberry and brie grilled cheese. Want it?”

My mouth instantly waters at my favorite sandwich, the one never on a menu. Joey only ever makes it for me. “Yes, please.”

Tugging my hand, she pulls me the rest of the way towards the truck. Joey hangs out the window, an infectious grin on his wide lips.

“’Sup, trouble one and trouble two.”

“Ha ha ha,” Andy fake laughs. “Regular for Harp, pork sliders for me. Chop chop, we’ve got things to do.”

Joey rolls his eyes dramatically before hurrying back into the truck. The sounds of Joey cooking filter out to us, metal on the stove, bags being opened. It’s a familiar and comforting sound to me now. Beau and Joey have been best friends for as long as I can remember, since before I was born. I actually had a small crush on Joey when he was a teenager and I was a little kid. Even back then he was hard to resist with his black curls, light blue eyes, and sweetness. He’s too sweet for me, but I think he’d be perfect for Lee. If they ever admitted what they are to each other. I have epilepsy, I’m not blind. Those two are madly in love, they just can’t see it.

Andy leads me towards one of the large picnic tables by a firm hand on my wrist. It’s pointless to tug away from Andy. She’s going to get what she wants and I’ll not even be that annoyed about it. We sit down opposite one another, with Honey curled under the table at my feet.

“So?”

I aim a confused look at her. “Yeah?”

She rolls her hand in a tell-me gesture. “How did it go with Jackson the other night?”

“Oh.”

Joey thankfully interrupts us by placing our plates down on the table. He holds up one finger, returns to the truck, then jogs back to hand me a bowl of water for Honey and a few slices of cheese.

“I know she’s working, but for later. I’d hang out and pester you both, but there’s an event tonight, so I’m in the middle of food prep.” Joey reaches out one hand to ruffle my hair with a wink.

We both watch him disappear into the truck with dreamy sighs. I amend my earlier mention of a crush, we had a crush on Joey growing up. Pitiful. Andy won that one when Joey was clearly not gay. He’s got the whole DILF thing going on though since the birth of Savannah. But I still think him and Lee could be magic together if the man ever admitted to himself that he’s in love with one of his best friends. I read too many romance novels. Alas.

“Sooooo…” Andy takes a giant bite of a slider, a huge glob of barbecue sauce drips out the other end. Gross.

Taking a small bite of my grilled cheese, I try not to moan indecently at the flavor. Comfort and home. I wish I could hire Joey to make this for me every night. I’d never have a sad thought ever again.

“It was alright,” I finally say with a shrug.

Andy rolls her eyes and kicks me under the table. “You’re such a little shit. I heard he kissed you like they do at the end of a Hollywood blockbuster. All romantic and shit.”

I narrow my eyes in her direction. “Who told you that?”

Andy grimaces, silently returning to her pork slider like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the entire world. She mumbles something, but I can’t make it out.

“What was that?”

Andy sighs loudly. “Beau.”

A wince rolls through me. “Beau saw us kiss?”

“I mean, you kissed in front of all of them. They all saw.”

I carefully place my sandwich back on the plate. “Oh.”

“Harper, I am seriously begging here. So, first kiss? First, what else?”

“It was perfectly fine. He came back to my place after, but all we did was sleep.”

Andy slowly lowers her own sandwich onto her plate. Her eyes are full of fire as she stares me down. “All you did was sleep?”

I nod, hoping she won’t see through the lie. “Yes.”

“Bullshit!” Andy yells loud enough for metal to clink in the food truck. Joey’s head pops out the window, but Andy waves him away.

“I like him,” I say dejectedly. I push my plate away, suddenly no longer hungry, and tiredly rest my chin on my palm.

“What’s so bad about that? We can all see how he looks at you.”

With a roll of my eyes, I mumble, “For now.”

Andy chews her slider thoughtfully, eyes shrewd, gaze intense on me. Sometimes, I feel like a specimen under her stare as she tries to piece me together from bits of information she’s gathered over decades of friendship. But I’ve always been very careful to share just enough to keep people happy. The art of being mysterious.

“I wish I knew everything that’s going on in that big wonderful brain of yours, but I won’t even bother. Even if I did know, I bet none of it would make a lick of sense to me.” Andy finishes her food, making a grab for the pickle on my plate. I gesture towards it since I hate pickles, it’s been hers since we were kids. She takes a bite out of the crisp veggie, then waves it at me. “You think he’s going to fuck and run.”

I bristle at her correct guess. “No.”

“Yes,” Andy sings. “Well, I hope he proves you wrong. Trevor and Eli have been gifts to Beau and Colby. Maybe Jackson will be a gift to you too. You’re a delight, Harper, any man would be lucky to have you.”

I hum in answer, although I disagree. Once we’re done with lunch, Andy drags me over to show me the sunflowers as if I haven’t seen them a million times. Stupidly, and against every intelligent urge in my body, I pick a sunflower stalk to present to Jackson this coming weekend. He’s not the only one who can give thoughtful gifts. I can do it, too, if I allow myself to do it.

For the remainder of the week, the sunflower taunts me from a vase in the center of my kitchen island. Jackson texts me throughout the week, but I keep my answers short. Maybe he will get the hint and finally move on. Nothing about me is easy, so why stick around? I’ll let him have me, but I never said I’d make it easy. The man seems to enjoy the push and pull, so I’ll give him what he wants. Until he gets tired of me.

Saturday morning, Jackson shows up on my front stoop looking good enough to eat. Dark jeans again, a henley, and a leather jacket over his broad shoulders. Devil may care. His grin is wide and sweet, almost bringing me to my knees. I want to hate him; I do. But I focus on the sweet daisies held in his tight grip.

He holds the flowers out to me, eyes sparkling with some nauseating emotion I can’t parse. “For you.”

“Why?” I ask before I can censor myself.

Jackson quirks his head to the side. “’Cause I wanted to. Do I need a reason to bring you flowers?”

I bite back the urge to scoff. That’s not very nice of me. Instead, I turn around and lead him into the kitchen. I gesture toward the still-blooming sunflower.

“That’s for you.”

Jackson grins, but his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You picked a sunflower for me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Surprising me, as usual, Jackson puts the daisies in the vase so that they’re surrounding the sunflower. It shouldn’t work, but oddly it does. Kind of like me and Jackson. Again, this is another observation I’ll never utter out loud. I don’t need to go spouting nonsense about flowers representing us or some stupid, lovestruck word vomit.

Jackson finishes arranging the flowers with a triumphant grin. His gaze sweeps the room, obviously checking for Honey. Once he sees she’s still asleep on the sofa, no vest, his smile blooms even larger. He’d asked if she could stay behind today, although I didn’t quite understand why. Obviously, I can go places without her; I just prefer not to. She’s my safety blanket.

His large palm wraps around my neck, his skin still a little chilly from the outside. He promptly and without words drags me in for a lazy hello kiss. My body melts against him, in total disagreement with my overly loud brain. Curling my arms around his broad chest, I dig my fingers into the expanse of his back. Jackson moans against my mouth, taking the kiss from chaste to sinful in one single millisecond.

As we kiss, he backs me up against the kitchen wall. My back hits it with a loud thud, but Jackson cushions my head with a gentle palm at the back of my head. I moan like a damn porn star right into his mouth, needing, wanting more of him. One hand is in my hair, the other beside my head; he kisses me with so much passion that my brain just turns right off. All I can focus on is the sweet, gentle slide of his lips against my own.

The taste of his mouth will be seared into my brain for eternity. God. He tastes like coffee and a hint of mint, as if he brushed his teeth and then downed a cup of coffee. Something about that is just so decidedly human that it somehow turns me on even more.

He tears away from my mouth with a pained moan. “You kiss like fucking sin, Harper. Jesus.”

I blink up at him in a horny daze. “Really?”

Jackson nods, gaze still a little glassy from our kiss. “Who taught you to kiss like that?”

I cock my head to the side in confusion. Doesn’t he know? “You.”

Jackson’s thumb pauses in its gentle rubbing of my jaw. “Me?”

“I told you…” I trail off, embarrassment burning through me.

“Fuck.” Jackson dips down to kiss me again, softer this time. This kiss is more of a flicker than a raging inferno, but it still sends my heart galloping. He pulls away to rain sweet kisses across my face, murmuring words I can’t decipher through the onslaught of his lips.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are lit with joy, teeth glinting through his blinding grin. “You’re perfect for me. You really are.”

“Don’t be disgusting.” I shove him away while awkwardly clearing my throat. Jesus. He makes it hard to keep a grip on myself while he’s around. Something about him just makes me want to fall to my knees. I have no idea what I’d do then, but surely I’d figure it out. It can’t be that hard.

Jackson strides over to the couch to give Honey a sweet pat on her back. The dog has the gall to roll over, sweetly asking for belly rubs. Jackson acquiesces for a moment, then bends to press a kiss to her snout. A moment later, he’s hustling me out of the house, eagerness radiating off of him. My eyes immediately land on the gleaming motorcycle parked at the edge of my driveway. All the blood in my body rushes in my ears until I feel a little dizzy with it.

Jackson’s firm hand on my elbow holds me up when my knees threaten to buckle. “Harper, it’s okay.”

I gesture dramatically towards the motorcycle, gleaming in the sunlight. “I can’t get on that!”

“Says who?” Jackson presses.

“Every medical professional in the tri-county area.”

“I spoke to Beau and Colby, and they both said it would be fine if we take certain precautions. Don’t you think they have your best interests at heart?”

My brain gets caught on Beau and Colby. He spoke to them? I cover my eyes with my hands, hoping to stem the anxiety swirling inside me.

Jackson wraps his fingers around my wrists and gently tugs my hands from my eyes. His gaze is so soft, so tender, that again, my brain quiets when all I want to do is spiral out of control. I want to yank free from his grasp, snarl, spit, and cry at him, but before I can even muster an ounce of anger, he tugs me into his arms. His warmth bleeds through his clothes and right into me until all I can do is fall against him in a rare show of trust.

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” Jackson whispers into my hair, voice rough but low.

Fed up with being vulnerable, I push out of his arms with a stilted nod. Jackson seems to understand. He guides us to the bike and grabs a helmet off the handle. He places the helmet over my head with a small, pleased smile.

Watching Jackson put on his own helmet is borderline pornographic. I wonder if maybe one day he’ll leave the helmet on while I get on my knees for him. I’ve got to rush these fantasies before he gets bored.

He slips one long leg over the bike, straddling it in a way that has my blood pumping dangerously throughout my body. Now is not the time for a hard-on. Patting the seat behind him, he flips the visor of his helmet up to leer at me.

“Climb on, punk.”

I flush with annoyance at the nickname but decide against arguing. Climbing onto the bike behind his strong body, I lean heavily against the small backrest behind me. Jackson’s palm lands heavily on my thigh, squeezing just once in reassurance. My skin breaks out with goose pimples under his touch. I want to snuggle into his body while simultaneously shoving him away.

“Squeeze your thighs tight around me,” Jackson orders, voice gruff. I do as he says, then stare in confusion as he wraps what looks like a seat belt around us both. “Now wrap your arms around me and hold tight. If you loosen up at all, I’m stopping. We’ll ride as long as you hold on tight to me. Got it?”

There must be mics in our helmets because it’s easy to hear him as if he’s whispering right against my ears. Jackson’s voice is somehow simultaneously deep and soft. He always sounds like he’s speaking to a spooked animal when he’s talking to me. One would think that would piss me off, send me hissing his way. But it doesn’t matter as long as his voice curls around me like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. If he narrated my life, maybe it wouldn’t be total shit.

“Yes,” I say softly.

He pats my hands once in acknowledgment after I wrap them tight around his stomach. I can feel the muscles of his abdomen contract under my touch as he starts up the bike. The bike rumbles between my legs, forcing me to slide a little closer against his back. My groin presses flush to his ass, sending a rush of desire zipping through me.

A delighted laugh breaks free from me when the motorcycle jumps, only to rumble slowly down the gravel road. God. It’s just like I imagined. The wind whips against my body, giving me the feeling of flying. Jackson’s hands grip the handles tight, his gaze steady on the road before us. I tighten my arms around him in the imitation of a hug, hoping maybe he’ll understand the action for how I mean it.

“Good?” Jackson questions, just as he turns down the county road leading deeper into farm country.

“Great,” I reply honestly.

Jackson guides us through a maze of roads, until we’re on a small two-lane highway that rarely sees much traffic. Citrus groves line either side of the road, a familiar sight that keeps my anxious heart strangely calm. Jackson slows the bike slightly with no one behind us. The rumble of the engine is still loud, but I’ve gotten used to it. The gentle purr of the motorcycle is oddly comforting as the bike speeds along.

We ride for so long that I almost forget about anything else but the feel of Jackson strong between my thighs, the rumble of the engine, and the light yellow autumn sun in the cloudless sky. A perfect day. Surely things will go to shit soon.

“I’m going to let go, but I promise I’m fine. Okay?” I say into the helmet.

Jackson turns his head slightly to look at me through his visor, no doubt gauging the truth of my statement. He nods once, then says, “Alright, Harper.”

I untangle my arms from around him just in time for him to slow the bike to a crawl. Holding my arms out at my sides, I lean back against the backrest, pretending for one moment that I’m flying. Delirious with joy, my lips hurt from the large stretch of my smile. A delighted laugh bubbles through my chest until I could almost weep with happiness.

Looping my arms back around him, I hook my head over his shoulder to hold on for dear life. The bike winds and swerves through the backcountry of Clay Springs until we bleed deeper into the part of the county that I rarely visit. Large farmhouses dot the sprawling landscape beside us. Jackson comes to a slow stop beside a fence with a few horses grazing in the distance.

After unbuckling the belt, he hops off the bike in one single, easy motion, then gently picks me up by the ribs to help me off as well. A biting remark threatens to slip out of me, but I hold it back when I see the tender look on his face when he rips his helmet off. Jackson rests the helmet on the handle, then sweetly helps take mine off. He’s too nice, at least for me.

“Wanna pet a horse?” Jackson asks, grin wide and sweet.

I glance uneasily back at the house further up the road. “What if we get in trouble?”

“We won’t,” Jackson reassures me.

Jackson walks over to the side of the bike, dipping down to tug a bag of apples out of the compartment. A beaming grin covers his face as he eagerly leads me towards the weathered fence. The horses wearily wander over toward us, curiosity leading them to investigate the new outsiders.

Jackson makes a clicking noise with his mouth as the horses get closer. One’s dark chestnut brown, and the other is white with brown spots. Their heads shake, and their manes whip in the wind on their approach. Slowly, Jackson lifts his hand to reveal the shiny red apple. The braver horse, the chestnut-colored one, sniffs at Jackson’s hand before promptly taking the apple in his mouth. Juice flies all over, dripping down the horse’s teeth.

Haphazardly dangling over the edge of the fence, I prompt the other horse to step closer with a wiggle of my fingers. Reaching my hand out slowly, I carefully touch the white horse's muzzle, focusing on the ridge of its nose. The softest skin on earth, even as the horse trembles and shakes underneath me.

Jackson gently nudges my side. “Want to feed them?”

I nod excitedly, lips aching from smiling. He gently places an apple in my unoccupied hand. Holding it out to the horse, a giggle erupts from me when it quickly eats it up, lips grazing over my hand. Just like the other horse, juice makes a mess of the horse’s lips. I let my head fall against the horse’s, feeling all sorts of small beside the large, gentle creature. A little whine escapes the horse, but otherwise, it doesn’t seem to mind my petting it. They must be someone's prized possession. I know they’d be mine.

We feed the horses a few more apples, then watch as they amble away, no longer interested in us due to lack of food. I stay standing on the fence, hands carefully gripping the weathered wood to keep from falling. Only when I look down do I realize that Jackson was carefully situated behind me, hands on either side, in case I fell.

He helps me down with a firm grip on my hips. I stumble a little when hitting the ground, but he steadies me.

I brush a hand over his shoulder, letting it rest gently against the warm nape of his neck. “Thank you.”

Jackson dips down to kiss me, just a soft brush of lips. “You’re welcome. You have a way with animals.”

“I’m feral like them. We understand one another.”

“Feral, huh?” Jackson teases, one eyebrow raised.

I bite my lip and nod. “Wild and free.”

Jackson lightly brushes the pads of his fingers down my face, finally hooking his fingers under my chin. His gaze is fathomless, swallowing me whole in the depths of his eyes. I think I could stare at him forever, smell the sweet scent of his skin. Everything about Jackson is beautiful, almost painfully so. It’s going to hurt so bad when he moves on.

“Let’s sit for a minute.” Jackson scopes out the side of the road before settling on a small patch of wildflowers close to the fence. After checking for bugs or snakes or God knows what, he pats the ground beside him as he folds his legs underneath himself.

I collapse beside him in a gangly pile of limbs. Usually, I’d feel self-conscious, but his heavy gaze makes me feel anything but. Plus, he’s already seen me naked, so obviously, he at least likes what I’ve got going on.

The breeze is cool when it whips over us, sending the tall grass over the fence swaying. I tug my knees up to loop my arms around my legs, resting my cheek against my jean-clad knees. Jackson plays idly with a piece of grass between his long fingers. A seemingly nervous habit.

After a while, his gaze lifts back to mine.

“I used to be an escort,” Jackson announces, apropos of nothing.

“Oh,” I say like an idiot, absolutely not knowing how to reply.

Jackson shakes his head softly. “I really like you, and I want to see where this goes. But it didn’t feel right to go into this without being upfront. I quit when I moved here, mostly because, well, I’m kind of tired of it.”

“Why’d you do it at all?”

Jackson sighs heavily, flicking the blade of grass to the ground. “I told you about my knee and the NBA. I’d always had this dream of paying off my parents’ home for them, letting them retire early. I had a friend in college who did escorting on the side, and I just kind of fell into it. It helped me stay sane, although I didn’t really need the money. I do just fine with my stocks.”

“So you’ve been with a lot of people, then?” I ask, unable to help myself. Jealousy curdles in my stomach, awful and angry.

“I’ve been with a lot of people, yes.” Jackson reaches over to splay his hand across my thigh. The touch is comforting, although I don’t want it to be. “But I don’t think about them when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. Okay?”

I flush and look away from him, but I don’t lash out. Progress. Instead, I keep my gaze focused on the hills behind us and gently tangle my fingers with his against my thigh.

“If you’ve been with so many people, why on earth would you want to be with me?”

Jackson’s fingers squeeze mine. I keep my gaze averted, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Not yet, at least.

“You’re a spitfire, Harper. You hiss, spit, and claw at every sweet advance I make on you. There’s probably something wrong with me, but I find more joy in you than I’ve found in anyone in the past few years. Trust me when I tell you that, please.”

When I turn back to look at him, his eyes are soft, expression painfully sincere. What a fucking speech. Unable to form a word myself, I opt to tell him just what I think without uttering a sound. I hurriedly crawl into his lap and slam my mouth against his own. His hand finds a home in my hair, as he loves to do. The kiss is soft, perfectly sweet, and I wonder again what the time limit for this whole shebang is going to be. But in the meantime, I’ll take his kisses, and I’ll take his attention, storing it away for a cloudy, lonely day. Today was the date of my dreams, so surely there’s no way any of this could last.

His thumb sweeps over my scar and his eyes ask a million questions. “Will you tell me?” Jackson asks softly.

“It’s stupid,” I murmur.

Jackson smiles that smile of his that makes my heart want to leap out of my chest, do cartwheels around the room. “I want to know every part of you, even if you think it’s stupid.”

So sweet I might barf.

“I had my first seizure while in a treehouse with Andy, when I was eight years old. I fell to the ground.” I gesture helplessly at the scar that most of the time I forget about. “Hit my head and broke my leg. Andy screamed bloody murder until Beau showed up, he carried me home.” I laugh bitterly at the memory. “My mother was so annoyed. Until she realized we were describing a seizure. Treehouses and adventures ended after that.”

Jackson’s thumb sweeps across the scar again as his eyes devour me whole. “I’m glad Beau helped you.”

“That’s Beau, the helper.”

“You trust him.”

I feel heat crawl up my neck. “He and Andy are basically siblings.”

“Good.”

And then he kisses me again, soft and sweet and some weird part of me starts to knit itself back together as his lips softly glide over mine.

Sometime later, we climb back on the bike and ride for a few more hours, until the sun hangs low in the sky. Jackson guides us back to my house, along the gravel road. The sound of Honey’s familiar barks float to us the moment I take my helmet off. Skipping towards my home, I’m so focused on Honey that I miss the boxes at the front door. Only when I open the door to let her out do I notice them.

Honey, the little slut , beelines right for Jackson as he climbs off the bike. Helmet off and held in his strong grip, he crouches down to lavish her with attention. Annoying, but also endlessly sweet. It’s important to me that if I end up with someone, Honey adores them. Two large pieces of my life need to get along well.

“Ah, good, I was worried it might not be here before we got back.” Jackson strides up the stairs and dips down to grab the boxes. He gestures inside with one finger. “In you go.”

“Excuse me?”

Jackson nods his head this time. “Inside, punk.”

Normally, I’d dig my heels in, I’d fight, or make some kind of biting comment about being bossed around. But something about Jackson relaxes all those urges, probably because he’s not doing it because he doesn’t think I’m capable, he’s coming at me from an angle of kindness. He wants to take care of me for some odd, stupid reason. So, I head inside the house, even though every urge inside me says to flee.

I watch in confusion as Jackson settles boxes on the kitchen island. Wait, the one box is lilac. Oh my God. It’s Bee’s. He flips the lid open with a grin, showing off the four cupcakes inside. But I don’t recognize any of them as flavors I know.

“What are these?” I ask, leaning over the island to peer inside.

Jackson chuckles in amusement at my antics. “Trisha’s testing some things out. Thought that we could try them for her.”

I turn my head in surprise. “Really?”

He nods softly. “Got a plate?”

“Hell yeah.” I skip around the kitchen to grab two plates from the cabinet, along with two forks.

Jackson carefully takes the cupcakes out one by one, then peels off their liners before setting them on a single plate. The final cupcake he does the same, but places it on the other plate. He chuckles at my look of confusion.

“For Honey.”

And my heart promptly skips ten million beats when he gently places the plate on the floor for Honey.

“What’s in hers?” I ask, voice thick with emotion.

Jackson calls Honey over with a few snaps of his fingers, grinning widely when she licks at the cupcake without a question. “Peanut butter based. All of it is safe for her, Trisha promised. Let’s try ours.”

So we stand around the kitchen sampling the new Bee’s flavors. One is a rich and velvety gingerbread flavor for the upcoming holidays, one a dark, spicy chocolate, and the final one a sweet orange. I love them all.

I point at the chocolate one. “My favorite.”

Jackson snorts, then licks the length of his fork. “Not surprised. Chocolate is your favorite, huh?”

I roll my eyes at his awful innuendo. “Yes, chocolate is my favorite flavor.”

“I’ve never liked it much myself.” He places his fork down, grabs my hips, and tugs me roughly against him. “Maybe that’ll be different now.”

Before I can even blink, his mouth descends on mine. His tongue delves into my mouth, searching out every ounce of the chocolate flavor remaining from the cupcake. I dig my fingers into his neck, needing an anchor for the decadent ride that’s his kiss. His hands cup my ass and lift, then he gently places me on the island. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull him in closer, until I’m pressed so tight against him that it’s borderline painful. The feel of his body against mine doesn’t scare me like I thought it would. Instead, my heart calms, and my brain fills with this delightful loud static.

His warm palm slips under my shirt, caressing the skin at the small of my back. As he kisses me, his fingers dip under the waistband of my pants, skimming against my skin until his hand presses against my stomach. I tremble under his touch, mind hyper-aware, but silent at the same time as he kisses me into behaving.

“Can I suck your dick?” Jackson asks fervently against my parted lips.

I pant hard, delirious at the idea of his mouth around me. “Fuck.”

Jackson chuckles darkly. “Is that a yes?”

Stay cool, Harper. Be cool. Chill. I unwind my legs and arms from around him, splaying my palms on the cold island behind me in a show of absolute chillness. Leaning back in the most effortless way I can, I nod my head towards my lap.

“I’m yours.”

Jackson swallows thickly, eyes firmly on mine. “Don’t say that unless you mean it, punk.”

I lie back against the cold kitchen island, dramatically splaying my arms out to my sides with a dreamy sigh. “Suck my dick, Daddy.”

Jackson growls and unleashes weeks of pent-up horniness on me. I gasp in shock when he all but rips my jeans off. He tugs me closer to the edge of the island, using his shoulders to hold up my thighs. Burying his head in my still-boxer-covered groin, he moans and mouths at me through my underwear. Oh, fuck. I definitely should not have goaded him. He’s going to kill me.

Fingers digging into my thighs, he goes at me like I’m the last meal he’ll ever have. The heat of his mouth bleeds through my boxers, straight into my skin. Fuck. My head spins with the ecstasy of his rough touch. Just when I’ve gotten used to his mouth on me over cloth, his fingers slip into the waistband to tug my boxers down. My cock slaps against my stomach and his gaze pings up to mine.

“I’m going to put my mouth on you now. Okay?”

My head taps against the granite as I nod rapidly, just wanting his mouth on me already. Jackson grins, feral and wicked, then sucks my cock down to the back of his throat. Oh my God. I claw at the island just for a moment, before giving in and laying my hands over Jackson’s head. His hair is short and prickly against my palms as I gently rub my hands over his head. He swallows around me, throat constricting against the head of my painfully hard cock. Stars explode in my vision at the glorious sensation. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Pure ecstasy.

Jackson’s fingers dig hard into the meat of my thighs, tugging me closer just to bury his nose against my overheated skin. My thighs tremble around his head, squeezing tight when he pulls off to lick at the crown of my cock.

“Oh no. Jackson… if you don’t stop…”

His dark eyes flash at me. “You’ll come when I say you can.”

“What?” I gasp out, chest heaving.

Jackson swirls his tongue around the head, making my toes curl tight. His fingers curl tight around the base. “You’ll come when I say you can, understood?”

“And if I come when I want?”

Jackson licks a stripe up my cock with a devilish grin. “Well, you’d be a bad boy, then. And bad boys get punished.”

I lean up on my elbows, groaning when he sucks me back down again. “What will you do? Spank me?”

Swirling his tongue around the head of my cock, Jackson hums against the sensitive head, igniting sparks of pleasure in my veins.

“I think you’d like spanking too much. It would have to be something else.”

“Whatever, Daddy,” I mumble, mostly teasing but also a little serious.

Jackson dives back down on my cock, visibly hungry for me. My legs quake and shake around his shoulders until I can’t hold it back anymore. Punishment be damned, I’m just about to come when Jackson pulls off quickly to mumble, “Come, Harper.”

The best orgasm of my life rolls through me like waves in a violent ocean. My brain fills with static, and my limbs turn into jelly. Jackson swallows every ounce of my cum down, then proceeds to softly lick my cock until I’m a trembling mess underneath him.

Warm and satiated, I blink up at the ceiling in a liquified daze. Jackson carefully drags my boxers and jeans back up, placing a sweet kiss just underneath my belly button. The soft kiss tickles, startling a laugh out of me. Jackson leans against the island, elbows on either side of my head, and cocks his head to the side.

“Can I kiss you?” Jackson asks shyly, expecting me to say no.

Instead of answering him with useless words, I wrap my palm around the nape of his neck and tug him down to press our mouths together. He still tastes like Jackson, but he also tastes like me. It shouldn’t work, it should probably gross me out. But I like the taste of myself on his tongue because just for a brief moment in time, he belongs to me.

“My turn?” I ask against his mouth, the words more of a mumble than a coherent sentence.

Jackson grins wide and broad, pressing the smile to my lips. “You wanna suck my dick?”

Yes, I do. But I’m also scared because what if I’m bad at it? What if I choke, literally? Jackson must see something in my eyes because he hovers over me, a considering, careful look in his eyes.

“Another time.”

I’m oddly relieved but also a little annoyed. I settle for kissing him some more, searching out the taste of myself on his tongue. Jackson slows our kiss with shushing noises as if I’m a wild cobra, and he’s calming me from biting. Maybe, in a way, he is. By the time he pulls away, I’ve memorized the taste of him. And before he leaves through the front door, he presses one lingering kiss to my brow. I hold my hands to my lips to keep the taste of him there. Forever on my lips.