Page 24 of Diesel’s Second Chance

We stumble into the hallway, still kissing, hands everywhere. She backs toward a door, her bedroom, has to be, and I follow like she's gravity and I've got no choice.

By the time we cross the threshold we're both down to underwear. She's in black lace that makes my mouth go dry, and I'm trying very hard not to just throw her on the bed and skip all the parts that should probably come first.

I stop, panting, and just look at her.

June Brannigan standing in her bedroom in black lace and nothing else, hair messed up from my hands, lips swollen from my mouth, looking at me like I'm the only thing she wants.

Most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

"Christ, June," I say roughly.

"What?" She sounds breathless.

"You're—" I can't even finish the sentence. Just shake my head and close the distance between us again, kiss her slower this time, trying to memorize every second.

She kisses me back just as thoroughly, her hands mapping my chest, my shoulders, my back. Like she's memorizing me too. Like she's afraid this is the only time we'll get.

It won't be. I'm making damn sure of that.

Her hands slide down to my waistband and my control snaps. I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed, and she sits on the edge, looking up at me with those blue eyes that have wrecked me since the day I met her.

Part of me still can't believe this is happening. That she's here, kissing me, touching me, looking at me like she wants this as much as I do.

Part of me still feels like I'm betraying Tommy. Like this is wrong and selfish and everything I swore I'd never do.

But I can't stop. Won't stop. Not now.

I drop to my knees in front of her, and June's breath catches.

"Jackson…"

"Let me," I murmur, running my hands up her thighs. "Please, June. Let me taste you."

She squints her eyes. "Okay."

I kiss her knee. Then higher. Then higher still, working my way up the inside of her thigh while she trembles under my hands. Her skin is soft, warm and I can feel her pulse racing under my lips.

When I reach the edge of that black lace, I pause, look up at her.

"You sure about this?" I ask, even though stopping might actually kill me.

June's hand comes down to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "This is hard," she says quietly. "It's complicated and messy and part of me still feels guilty. But it doesn't feel wrong, Jackson. It feels right. It feels like something that was always going to happen eventually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiles, and there are tears in her eyes. "I think Tommy's probably looking down at us right now calling us both idiots for taking so long to take a step forward and be happy. That's the kind of man he was. He'd want this for us."

A rough laugh escapes me. "He'd probably call me a knucklehead."

"Definitely." June's still smiling through the tears. "But he'd be glad. I know he would."

The guilt doesn't disappear completely, probably never will, but it eases enough that I can breathe again.

I kiss her inner thigh one more time, then stand and pull her up with me. Lead her further into the bedroom until we're standing beside the bed, her bed, the one she shared with Tommy, and I shove that thought down before it can derail everything.

"Lie back," I tell her.

She does, scooting toward the center of the mattress, and I follow her down. Brace myself above her on my forearms and just look at her for a long moment.