Page 1 of Until Waverly

Prologue

Waverly

The night of Waverly’s birthday party...

The BOOM.

I thought my brother and his friends were joking about that. Seemed I was the fool now. Standing there, staring into a set of luscious green eyes framed by red lashes—the same color as his hair—I was a goner. His clothing style was monochrome, black on black, with the only pop of color being his red suspenders. The guy’s unruly mop of red, curly hair enhanced his aquiline features. At his neck was a red, curved tattoo with a date.

In a word, he was stunning.

Model-worthy.

Curious, I traced the only barely visible mark on his neck with my gaze, wondering who could have been important enough for him to want to get their lips or something akin to a mouth inked into his flesh. The words “in loving memory” part of the design had me chiding myself for being both jealous and inquisitive. Someone special to him must have passed away.

“Waverly,” Mack said, drawing my attention from the guy’s freckled, blush-colored skin. “This is Jackson. Ireland’s youngest brother.”

“Happy birthday, Waverly,” Jackson’s gravelly voice rumbled through me, and a soft sigh passed my lips.

“Awe,” July teased. “They’re adorable.”

Jackson’s gaze never wavered from mine. He stared at me with such adoration and intent that he took my breath away. I didn’t want to share this moment with anyone.

“Thank you.”

“Without a care in the world,” December added.

“Someone has a new puppy,” Ireland stated, humor filling her voice. I agreed. Jackson put off Golden Retriever vibes for sure.

“Don’t listen to them,” I said. “They’re jealous.”

The corner of Jackson’s mouth kicked up in a devilish smirk. I was in so much trouble with him. “I haven’t heard a word they said.”

His green eyes were mesmerizing. Ensnaring me. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. “Well, that makes one of us.”

“Is there somewhere you’d like to talk? Get to know each other?” Jackson questioned. His looming presence sent a bolt of attraction straight to my stomach, knotting my lower belly in the most delicious ways.

If this was what Mack felt when he met Ireland—this all-consuming, needful desire to take what was mine and claim him—I could understand why he’d been a dick to her. My mind was discombobulated. My heart fluttered. I should have been afraid of Jackson, yet I also felt as though I’d known him my whole life.

Resistance was futile with him.

I exhaled slowly, giving him a nod. “There’s this place we can go.”

“Lead the way.”

The whispers of “puppy love” followed us. I was infatuated with him to the point I should have been scared, especially since I’d just met him. Maybe I was. The second we were inside the house and out of view of our families and friends, he kissed me. Not this slow tentative meeting of the mouths. This was full-on, heat-of-the moment, slap-your-momma kiss.

He pressed me to the side of the house, blanketing my body with his. The cool metal did nothing to ease the heat engulfing me. Jackson palmed my ass, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his hips. I did. I didn’t need to be told twice. This was all moving at lightning speed. I should have voiced my concerns or asked for a moment. Instead, I went with it, holding him to me as he devoured me with a ravenous kiss. Our teeth clanked. Our tongues tangled. The moans we shared were dripping with arousal. I was burning up in his arms. Afraid I’d combust if I didn’t cool off.

Yet, I didn’t let go.

He took a shuddered breath as he pulled back. His green eyes glittered like two gemmed pools of arousal banked in wildfire and resolve.

Still, I didn’t experience an ounce of anxiety or caution.

This enigmatic blaze of desire forced my hand. I’d worry about the consequences later. Later, I would ask all the pertinent questions. Later, in the dark, I would berate myself for being foolish and foolhardy. This magnetism drawing us together could also be our destruction.

Jump first.

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