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Chapter ten
Brinn
My throat is dry, a sensation that lingers as I emerge from my sleepy haze. The warmth of the sun grazes my skin. I need some water.
I head to the kitchenette, still in my t-shirt and shorts. Jackson snores gently when I reach the living room, so I tiptoe past him as quietly as I can. Carefully grabbing a glass from the cupboard, I turn to the sink.
“Morning.” I’m so startled by Jackson’s voice that I drop the glass. It shatters on the counter. I instinctively reach for the pieces and cut my finger. Blood starts pouring from the slice.
Jackson moves quickly to my side without using his cane. His knee is obviously getting much better. That, or he’s just pushing through the pain for me. Either way, it’s a sweet gesture.
He pulls off his t-shirt and wraps it around my finger. I’m instantly drawn to the muscles rippling over his chest.
There are so many of them.
Eyes up.
Jackson takes my hand and raises it over my head, pulling our bodies closer to each other. Our eyes lock, and my breath quickens as he looks at me. “To stop the bleeding,” he says.
“Sure, no problem,” my voice cracks. I feel the blood pumping in my finger, along with a new thumping in my chest.
We continue to stand face to face in silence as he holds my hand in the air. “Well, this is awkward.” His voice breaks through the quiet.
Who knew he could be funny?
Jackson finally brings my arm down to check the bleeding. It’s slowed considerably. “Not too bad. It’s not deep. Fingers just bleed a lot. Let me find you a band-aid.”
“There’s some in my purse in the bedroom.” I smile. “Always need to be prepared in my profession.”
He starts toward the bedroom, giving me a much-needed break from standing so close to him.
What is going on with me?
As he returns, his foot catches on the carpet. Because he doesn’t have his cane, he goes down in a heap. My turn to rush to his side.
I kneel beside him, worried he’s done more damage to his leg, but he’s laughing. Jackson Reed is laughing.
“We’re a mess, the two of us!” he howls, looking up at me. He hands me the band-aid he managed to hold onto despite his fall. “Saved it! Here you go.” We both erupt into another bout of laughter.
When our laughter finally subsides, I ask, “Are you hurt?”
“Just my pride, falling in front of such a beautiful lady.”
He thinks I’m beautiful.
Jackson’s expression turns serious suddenly. As he pushes himself up off the floor, his eyes remain fixed on mine, creating a magnetic intensity. Time seems to stand still. His movementsare deliberate, each motion calculated yet filled with unspoken urgency.
The space between us narrows as the air crackles with anticipation. In the charged silence, the first brush of our lips becomes an inevitable reality.
But not yet.
Jackson takes my face in his hands, turning it gently to the side. His lips brush against my cheek, tracing slowly down my jawline. I close my eyes, breath coming short and shallow. Jackson continues to explore my neck, shifting to the soft spot behind my ear. I let out an audible gasp.
I feel Jackson’s mouth turn upward. He’s clearly pleased with my reaction. His lips continue making their own path, from one side of my neck to the other. He’s taking his time, enjoying the journey.
I can’t deny I’m enjoying it too. But the longer he waits, the more my head starts to swirl. Doubts creep in.
What am I doing? Where is this going?
