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My breathing stops. Did he just say what I think he said? Maybe I heard him wrong. I must have heard him wrong. I’m frozen, my wide eyes searching his and asking the millions of questions I can’t form into words.
His lips—his stupidly perfect lips—pull into a slow smirk at my reaction.
Then nothing.
He doesn’t lean toward me.
He doesn’t reach for me.
He doesn’t even look at my mouth again.
Instead, he rolls onto his back with an arm above his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I gape at him, flustered and out of breath. “What are you doing?”
He raises an unconcerned brow and gives me a side-long glance. “Going to sleep?”
I blink, unsure of what just happened. Did I imagine it? “Are you serious? You talk about kissing me, and now you’re going to sleep?”
He looks over at me. “Was there something else you wanted me to do?”
Glaring at him, I mutter, “No,” but it’s a lie. And right now, it feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Turning toward me again, he asks, “Are you sure?”
I scoff. “You’re an asshole. You barely talk to me for weeks and now . . .” I shake my head. “Forget it.” I start to roll away from him, but he puts his hand on me, stilling me. His hand is strong, sure as he pushes me flat on my back. Before I even realize what’s happening, he has me pinned beneath him, expertly keeping space between us other than the light brush of our arms and legs.
But even that light brush is enough for me to feel my pulse throughout my body. He takes up my entire view, and from this angle, he’s even more devastatingly good-looking. His tousled hair falls forward, his blue eyes are bright with mischief, but there’s a darkness to them, too. A shadow of what might be mistaken for lust if I didn’t know better.
“Maybe this is why I’ve been avoiding you,” he croons in my ear. “Maybe you distract me.” His breath on my skin alone could make my back arch, but I force myself to hold my ground.
I swallow hard. “I don’t think that’s true.”
He pulls away to look at me with a tilt of his head. “It is. All I can think about lately are the things I’d like to do to you.” The pad of his thumb brushes my bottom lip and I suck in a breath. Everything inside me is short-circuiting. I don’t understand what the hell is happening, but I know I want more of it. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so badly, and the fact that it’s Jackson of all people has me dazed. My chest rises and falls with anticipation, and I hate how obvious it is. He knows how turned on I am right now—he has to. His nose skims mine, his thumb gently parting my lips like he’s about to take one between his teeth. “There’s only one problem.”
I wait. When I don’t say anything, the corner of his mouth twitches. “You can’t seem to tell a guy when you’re not interested.” He leans in close, our mouths almost touching. “How do I know you want this, too?”
“Because you always know,” I blurt without thinking, hating the truth of it, and hating the heavy heat that settles between my thighs at the thought.
Amusement flares behind his eyes. “But where’s the fun in that?”
I squirm underneath him, trying to ease the building ache.
“I’ll kiss you,” he says as he brushes my hair from my forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture. “Right now.” When he looks me in the eyes again, he adds, “I’ll do anything you want.” A faint whimper leaves my throat, and his wicked smile grows. “But you need to say it. If you want me to kiss you, tell me.” Lowering his lips to my ear, he adds, “If you want me to do something else, you can tell me that, too.”
But when he pulls back to look at me, I can’t speak. I can’t do anything. Part of me doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Because as much as my body wants him right now, his game has me fuming.
“Tell me what you want, Margot.”
The fact that he uses my name sends a shot of electricity down my spine. I don’t understand what’s happening right now. Does he want this? Does he want me? My face runs hot—just another way my body has betrayed me tonight.
He moves, and my entire body tenses. I thought he was leaning in to kiss me, but he just tilts his head the other way, leaving me disappointed.
I’m disappointed.
I want him. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to slip my hands under the hem of his shirt and feel the muscles of his back. I want him to press his hips against mine. I want to feel how badly he supposedly wants me.
I want to know if this is real.
