Page 49 of The Summer We Played Pretend

“You are,” I whisper.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day,” he confesses.

I almost sigh with relief. I’m so glad I’m not the only one feeling like this.

He leans in, his lips brushing against mine softly at first, then with growing intensity. Tingles spread through my body, and I instinctively press closer, craving more of his touch.

Jackson slides his hand to cup under my hair. I'm lost in the sensations—the warmth of his body, the taste of his lips, the urgent way his hand presses against my spine.

I tilt my hips into him, feeling the hardness of his body as desire flares through me. It’s crazy how strongly I feel about Jackson. I’ve never felt this way before.

Jackson slowly breaks away and presses a tender kiss to my forehead.

I must make a disappointed sound as he chuckles against my skin and draws back. "Your parents' porch probably isn't the best place for this." His voice is gravelly

I feel a flush creep up my neck as reality crashes back. Right. We're on my parents' front porch in full view of nosy neighbors and potentially my mom peering through the curtains.

"You're probably right," I say reluctantly.

Jackson's eyes crinkle as he smiles, clearly amused by my disappointment. "Don't worry, we've got plenty of time," he promises, voice low.

As Jackson heads down the path to his truck, I lean against the porch railing, watching him go. My lips still tingle from our kiss.

Part of me is grateful for Jackson's self-control—I definitely don't need my parents or the whole neighborhood gossiping about us making out on the porch. But another part of me is frustrated, wanting to throw caution to the wind and just be with Jackson without worrying about what anyone else thinks.

Another, more persistent part of me, doesn’t know what to think. How did I go from being called frigid by Brendan to wanting so much more with Jackson? How can I even be ready for something more? Jackson’s older than me, more experienced. It would be stupid to rush into anything.

I slip inside and dash upstairs to my room, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

Flopping onto my bed, I grab my phone. My fingers hover over Sara's contact. She's been blowing up my phone ever since I told her about Jackson and me becoming "official." I hesitate, then hit FaceTime.

Sara’s grinning face pops onto the screen. "Chloe! Finally. I’ve been dying here.”

I roll my eyes. "I told you everything all ready.”

“No, it’s still not enough. I want every little detail.”

“Well, we just kissed. Like, really, really kissed."

Sara squeals, making me wince and turn down the volume. "So, how was it? Is he a good kisser? I bet he's a good kisser."

"It was...intense," I admit, my voice dropping to a whisper even though I'm alone. "But then he pulled away, and I just...I don't know."

Sara frowns. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

I sigh, picking at a loose thread on my comforter. "No, nothing happened. That's kind of the problem. I mean, I get why he stopped, we were on my parents' porch. But..." I trail off, unsure how to voice the doubts swirling in my head.

"But you wanted more?" Sara prompts gently.

I nod, feeling my face heat up even more. "Is that bad? I mean, we just started this whole thing, and I don't want him to think I'm...I don't know, too eager or something."

"Chloe," Sara says, her voice firm. "There's nothing wrong with wanting more. You're allowed to have desires, you know."

I let out a shaky breath. "I guess. It's just...after everything with Brendan, I feel so...inexperienced. What if Jackson thinks I'm too innocent or something?"

Sara's face lights up with a wide grin. "Chloe, babe, you're overthinking this. First of all, you and Jackson are so perfect for each other. It’s like…the brains and the brawn—”

“Jackson is hardly stupid. He’s created so much business for his dad since he joined the repair shop—”

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