I was his right from the start.
I said nothing, returning his glare… and it was all the answer Jackson needed. He brought me back into his arms, right where I wanted to be.
I nearly sank at the knees as he reconnected our mouths together again, and we kept kissing, taking each other in, sucking and licking and nipping as our hands roamed each other’s bodies—tickling and touching.
Then grabbing and groping and grinding until the space between us ceased to exist.
Jackson was holding me as hard as I was holding him.
Fuck.
Fuckfuck…fuckfuckfuckFUCK.
Was this really happening? Were kisses supposed to feel like this?
Were they supposed to slam you between the thighs, making everything quiver? Were they supposed to resonate from the tips of your toes to the edges of your trembling fingers
