Page 119 of A Perfect Fit

“Mine too.” Jackson smooths a strand of my hair. “But I have to admit, not being able to kiss you tonight really challenged my restraint.” His voice is husky, low, sending heat to my skin.

“Kiss me,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. I don’t even care that we’re in public right now. “Please.”

His eyes darken as he registers my words.

Before he can do anything, the sound of a car pulling up resounds as Tony parks by the curb.

“Can you be patient for me, Bella?” Jackson murmurs.

“I’m always patient. The question is … can you be patient?”

Chapter Thirty-One

JACKSON

The car ride back to my apartment feels more torturous than Isabelle not letting me kiss her earlier this evening, and I don’t think I’ve ever hated New York traffic more than I do tonight.

Every minute stuck in the long line of cars feels like a long hour, and all I know is that I’m shaking with the need to kiss and touch Isabelle again.

Technically, I could kiss her now, but I want to be respectful toward Tony.

I can tell Isabelle’s affected, too, with the way her thighs are clenched together and her breath is hitching.

When we finally arrive at my apartment building, we thank Tony and exit the car. The moment he drives off, I crash my lips against Isabelle’s, not having the patience to wait until we’re inside my apartment.

I kiss her passionately, fiercely, fervently, and with all of me. I kiss her like a desperate man who’s craving the taste of her, like an enchanted man who will give up anything for her, and like an infatuated man who’s absolutely smitten with her.

“Jackson,” Isabelle cries against my lips.

My hands roam her back, bolts of electricity rushing down my spine as she melts into the kiss and plays with the back of my hair. Neither of us pulling apart, we ride the elevator up—grateful that it’s just the two of us inside—and stagger to my apartment.

I only end the kiss to dig out my apartment key, my heart racing at a million miles. Fuck. It’s really happening.

My hands fumble as I unlock the door, inadvertently turning the key in the wrong direction.

“Hurry,” Isabelle gasps.

I turn to her, admiring the pretty sight of her ruined lipstick—all work of mine. “Not so patient anymore?”

“I am patient,” she huffs. “You’re just taking too long.”

“Want me to kick down the door?”

“Yes.”

The door opens, and I flash Isabelle a smirk. “In that case, I’d have to get it repaired tomorrow morning and bill the fees under your name.”

Before she can respond, I curl a hand around the back of her neck and crash my lips against hers again.

Isabelle and I are still kissing as we step inside my apartment. Miraculously, I manage to shove the door shut. The suit jacket I’m holding drops to the floor somewhere in the living room.

We only pull apart for air when we arrive at my bedroom. It’s pitch-dark, so I flick on a light switch.

“Is this lighting okay?” I rasp.

I want to see Isabelle’s beautiful body clearly, but if she prefers to leave the lights off, then I’m happy with that, too.

Isabelle nods, her chest heaving up and down. “Yeah.”