Page 65 of Middle Ground
“Now,” Jackson says, “I think she saw that you and Ineeded each other.” I open my mouth to argue, but he holds up a hand. “I know,Meyer Ellison doesn’t need anybody. Maybe that’s the truth. In any case, I’m trying something new, and I implore you to do it with me.”
“And what is it that you’reimploringme to do?”
“Loosen up.” His hands plant themselves on my hips, and my lips part in a silent gasp. “And live a little.”
The next thing I know, I’m airborne. I shriek as I tuck my knees against my chest, just in time for my body to submerge in the creek.
The cool temperature of the water is a shock to the system, but it’s undeniably refreshing after facing the unbearable summer heat wave. I breach the surface, sputtering as I brush sopping strands of blonde away from my face. Jackson stands on the shore, eyes alight in laughter as he takes in my drowned appearance.
I’m still fully clothed. I glance down at my chest, noting the way the fabric of my white t-shirt is clinging to my skin. I also don’t miss the way Jackson’s gaze traces the visible outline of my bra.
An idea—not agoodone, but an idea nonetheless—infiltrates my brain. The rational part of me says to knock it off, but the rest of me tells it to get fucked. I wade closer to the bank of the creek.
Jackson follows my movements. He watches as I grip the hem of my shirt with both hands. Slowly, I begin to drag the material up. I lose sight of him as I tug the shirt over my head, but if his eyes were bugging at the sight of my midriff, I can only imagine what they’ll look like at the sight of my tits covered in lace.
I toss my shirt to the ground at Jackson’s feet. Then I let my gaze trail from his shoes up to his face. His jaw is clenched, his eyes roving over my chest. I mentally applaud past me for picking out a sexy bra today.
Edging closer, I cross my arms and rest them right on the bank. In this position, my folded arms push my bust upwards, giving Jackson an eyeful of cleavage.
“Alright, I’m loose,” I say. “Now what?”
Jackson’s eyes flash. I only meant to tease him a little, but now I think I may be in real danger.
He quickly tugs his shoes and pants off, and jumps into the water beside me. Then he advances, his gaze shining with predatory intent. I back away, but I’m not fast enough. His arm snags my waist, dragging me close to him.
Then his touch drifts to my hips, and I don’t even think before my legs encircle his waist. I’m buoyed by the water, but he palms my ass anyway, holding me up.
His gaze flicks down to my lips, then back up to my eyes. His honey irises are flecked by fire, desire seeping through. My fingers twist into the hair at his nape, holding him steady. Then my heartbeat trips as I close the distance, my breasts smashing against his chest.
His hands tighten on my ass as my lips brush his, the kiss of a feather.
“You can do better than that,” he goads.
I wait for my body to bristle at the taunt. To show some sign of defiance. Instead, my thighs squeeze around him, and I become acutely aware of the ache growing between my legs.
This time, I do kiss him properly. When I smash my lipsagainst his, he’s waiting for me. He coaxes my mouth open, and then his tongue clashes with mine. I shudder.
I know, without any doubt, that I want more. Need more. So I pull back, breathing heavily.
“Jackson?”
He looks at me with hooded eyes. “Hm?” he murmurs.
“Take me home.”
CHAPTER 23
MEYER
The car is stiflingthe whole drive back, but not from the late afternoon heat.
Normally, I would feel uncomfortable sitting here in damp clothes, but I can’t seem to care about that. I can’t seem to care about much of anything except this thrum of anticipation.
Jackson’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel in both hands. His jacket and tie are on the back seat, discarded. He looks good in just a button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
Logically, I know this is a terrible idea. I can’t seem to help myself from wanting it anyway. Maybe, with any luck, doing this will purge Jackson from my system entirely. If I flush all my attraction out in one evening, I can go back to simply surviving these next few months with him in town.
Jackson parks in his usual space in the parking lot, and I waste no time getting out. He follows close behind, and wemake our way down the gravel path. Then I’m unlocking my front door, disarming the fancy alarm system Jackson insisted on having put in, and spinning to face him.
