Page 40 of Haven

eight

IDON’T KNOW HOW LONGI sit there. Too long. Trapped. Stuck.

Just stuck.

I thought this world never pulled its punches, but I’m still alive right now. Brett is dead and Molly is dead, but I didn’t have to kill her. Nothing makes any sense. It’s new. Unfamiliar. And I’m absolutely terrified.

I’m not as strong as I want to be because eventually everything inside me hurts too much. I need Jackson even if I have to fuck him to have him.

If that’s what it takes, I can do it. It’s better than nothing.

It’s better than this.

So I pick up my candle and leave my room, making my way slowly down the hall and to his room. I open the door without a sound. Step inside. I haven’t even yet made it to the squeaky third floorboard when Jackson is out of bed and striding toward me.

“There you are,” he says gruffly. “It’s about time. I was about to come find you.”

I’m taken aback by his words, so I can’t think of a response. I let him take the candle from my hand and set it on the table. Then he draws me over to the bed. The bedcovers are rumpled and pulled back. I lie down.

When Jackson climbs in beside me, he doesn’t kiss me immediately like normal. He rolls onto his side to face me, looking at me in the dim, flickering light.

I don’t want to be looked at. It feels like I might shatter at any moment.

In a weird numb daze, I push him over onto his back and move on top of him. Stroking his chest. Kissing his neck. Trying to get the sex started.

“What the hell, kitten?” he murmurs thickly, grabbing my hands from where they were sliding down his naked body toward his cock. “What are you doing?”

“Was going to...” I’m still trying to kiss his shoulder and free my hands. “...fuck...”

He gets control of my body by wrapping both his arms around me and rolling us back over onto our sides. “I don’t want to fuck like this.”

I’m so out of it emotionally that I’m genuinely bewildered. “But you were... waiting for me.”

“Not to fuck.”

“You were grumpy I took so long.”

“Not to fuck. Not today. Not after... everything.” I’m not struggling anymore, so he settles me more securely in his embrace. “What the hell kind of asshole do you take me for? You think I feel like fucking after today? You think I’d fuck you when you’re feeling like this?”

I’m panting. I pull back enough to blink at his face. It’s too dark to see all the details, but I can tell his expression is pained and slightly confused and also maybe—maybe—tender. “You don’t want to fuck?”

“No.”

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