Page 110 of And Now, Back to You

“Yeah?” Jackson’s palm slides over my side, chafing up and down. “How about now?”

“Mm,” I hum. “Good.”

“And this?” His hand drifts, back to my belly, palm going up, up, up until it’s flat between my breasts. Right where my heart is pounding in my chest. He rubs gently with his thumb. “Warmer, now?”

“Yeah,” I breathe. He noses my hair away from my neck and presses a soft kiss against the knob of my spine. I am aware of all the places we’re tucked neatly together. How my breathing slows only for my heart to beat faster. His hand shifts and his finger edges under the top of my bra, tracing the curve of my breast. My nipples tighten and I arch my back, trying to force his touch lower, but he keeps his hands perfectly, frustratingly polite.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a low murmur right below my ear.

My body feels like it’s vibrating, twisted so tight with anticipation I might snap.

But I’m stubborn, and as much as I like pushing Jackson, I don’t think I want to push with this. I want it to be his choice. Whatever happens next.

“Delilah,” he whispers. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re sure?” he asks. His finger ghosts another light touch, just beneath the strap of my bra this time.

I clench my teeth so tight they click together.

“You’re messing with me,” I accuse.

I can feel his smile against the back of my neck. “Maybe.”

I turn and try to glance at him over my shoulder. All I can see of him is the curve of his ear and some rogue, messy bedhead. The very edge of his shit-eating grin.

“I don’t like this version of you,” I huff.

He laughs, his arm tightening around my waist. “Which version is that?”

“The one where you don’t follow through.”

He hums behind me and gently guides my bra strap over my shoulder. “Did you want me to touch you, Delilah?”

“Please,” I all but beg.

A rough grunt punches out of him and he pushes his hand down, fingers flexing around the heavy curve of my breast. “That’s what I wanted,” he whispers against the delicate skin at the back of my neck. “For you to ask.” His thumb strokes over my nipple, and a tight little whine hitches in my throat.

“Well,” I arch back, reaching behind me to thread my fingers through his hair, “maybe mention that next time.”

“Noted,” he says, still swiping lazily with his thumb. It’s a single point of intentional contact, but I swear I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

“That’s how it’s going to be with us, isn’t it?” he asks. “We’ll take care of each other. Better than anyone else.”

I nod.

“You’re so soft,” he tells me, his hips pressing into the curve of my ass. Rocking, once, like he can’t quite help himself. He stills with another pained grunt, hand squeezing.

“How much am I allowed to take, Delilah?” His thumb inches up and traces a delicate path along the top of my breast. “How much will you let me get away with before you start to have regrets?”

I shake my head, frantic. Every inch of me is pulsing. I want him so much. “No regrets. We promised each other.”

He peels the cup of my bra away, tucking it beneath my breast. I try to help, to slip my arm out of the strap, but Jackson stills me with his other hand at my hip.

“No,” he says. “Leave it. Like this, you look—” He has his chin hooked over my shoulder, staring down at the shadows of my curves beneath the blanket. I notice the glint of black just above his ear. The only part of him I can see clearly.

“You put your glasses back on.”