Page 68 of Worth the Wait

I step closer, close enough to catch the subtle scent of her perfume, to see the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. "And how long is that going to be? Another month? Another year? Or are you just stringing me along until one of us gets the promotion and the complication resolves itself?"

Her eyes flash with genuine anger. "That's not what I'm doing and you know it."

"Do I?" I counter, frustration building inside me. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're keeping me in this convenient limbo where you get all the benefits of a relationship with none of the vulnerability."

Tarryn crosses her arms, a defensive barrier between us. "You agreed to those terms. No one forced you."

"You're right. I did." I take a breath, trying to calm the emotions churning inside me. "I agreed because I thought it was a beginning, not a permanent arrangement. I thought you needed time to adjust, to get comfortable with the idea of us being together openly."

"And now you're changing the rules?" Her voice cracks slightly, betraying the emotion beneath her cool exterior.

"I'm done with half measures," I say, my voice dropping to that register that I know makes her pulse race. I can see it in the slight dilation of her pupils, the quickening of her breath. "I'm done pretending I don't want all of you, that I don't need everyone to know you're mine. Having you confess it to me while I make you come wasn’t enough.”

The word "mine" hangs between us. For a moment, she looks torn between anger and arousal, her body betraying what her words refuse to admit.

"You don't own me, Jackson," she says, though her voice lacks conviction.

I move closer, eliminating the remaining distance between us. "Don't I?"

The tension that’s been crackling is threatening to explode. Her eyes dart to my mouth, a tell she's never been able to control around me.

The dynamic shifts suddenly when I close the final inches between us, my hands framing her face with surprising intensity."You are mine, Tarryn. You've always been mine. And it's time everyone knew it."

Her breath catches. I feel the war raging inside her, fighting against the undeniable pull between us.

"Jackson—" she starts, but I cut her off.

"Tell me you don't want this," I challenge, my thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "Tell me you don't think about me every minute we're apart. Tell me you don't wake up reaching for me in the middle of the night."

Her hands rise to grip my wrists, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, her fingers tighten, anchoring herself to me as though afraid I might vanish.

"I can't," she whispers, vulnerability flickering across her features.

It's the only permission I need. My mouth claims hers with a possessiveness I've been restraining for weeks, months—years, if I'm being honest. The kiss is raw, unrestrained, eight years of separation and denial finally combusting in a single, explosive moment.

Her response is immediate and overwhelming, arms winding around my neck as she arches against me, her body betraying what her mind has been fighting. I back her against the wall, one hand tangling in her hair while the other grips her hip, pulling her tighter against me.

"Jackson," she gasps when my mouth moves to her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath her ear that always makes her shiver. "We should?—"

"Stop talking," I growl against her skin, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. "For once, stop overthinking and just feel."

My hands slide beneath her silk blouse, finding warm skin that jumps at my touch. She moans when my fingers trace the delicate edge of her lace bra, her head falling back against the wall in surrender.

I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her toward the bedroom. Her mouth finds mine again, the kiss desperate and hungry as her fingers work at the buttons of my shirt with frantic urgency.

By the time I lay her on the bed, we're both half-undressed, skin flushed with desire. I hover above her, taking in the sight of her—disheveled, wanting, her careful defenses finally crumbling.

"Say it," I demand, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other traces the curve of her breast through delicate lace. "Say you're mine. Not just in this moment but forever."

She arches beneath me, trying to increase the pressure of my touch, but I hold back, waiting.

"Jackson, please," she whimpers, frustration evident in her voice.

"Say it," I repeat, my fingers slipping beneath lace to circle her nipple without quite touching where she needs it most. "I need to hear you say it."

Something breaks in her expression—the last wall crumbling as her body surrenders what her mind has been fighting. "I'm yours," she whispers, the words catching in her throat. "Only yours."

The admission ignites something primal within me. I release her wrists to remove the barrier of her bra, my mouth replacing my fingers as I lavish attention on each breast until she's writhing beneath me, desperate for more.

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