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per column.”
He tips his head back and lets out a boisterous laugh. When he looks back at me, his eyes are still laughing. “I suppose that’s not all that far from the truth.”
“Do you sleep with them all?” I don’t even know why I care.
Slowly, he arches an eyebrow.
I quickly add, “I’m not going to slut-shame you or anything. There is nothing wrong with people fucking for fun, as long as no one is getting hurt in the process. Just call me curious.”
“Curious, hmm?” He slides one hand up to my nape, earning a shiver, when he adds, “No, I don’t sleep with them all. Very few, in fact.” He begins to smile at whatever crosses my expression. “My answer surprises you?”
“A bit,” I admit.
“Why?”
“Um, hello, you’re Jackson Keller.”
He snorts. “I am, yes, but what has that got to do with how many lovers I take to my bed?”
“It has everything to do with how many lovers you take to your bed because it also makes no sense,” I tell him honestly. “If you don’t have a lot of casual sex, then why don’t you have a steady girlfriend? I mean, I totally pegged you for having big commitment issues.”
“Did you?” He grins.
I nod. “Hence the casual sex. So, if I’m wrong about that, then why are you single?”
He hesitates, and with the moon lighting up one side of his face, I note the haunted look on his face when he explains, “I don’t want to do what my father did to my mother.”
It takes me a second to catch up. His answer blindsides me. I finally ask, “Sorry, can you explain that further?”
“My father broke my mother,” he says, voice soft. “While I know I’m not him, I also don’t want to do that to anyone.”
The cool water slides against my skin but I’m invested in this conversation, unable to look away. “If you know you’re not like him, then why do you even worry about ever acting like him?”
“Because I’ve never met a woman I’d go all in for,” he explains, dipping us lower in the water, bringing my shoulders underneath. “I won’t fuck up some woman because I want to fuck her. I date, and I date a lot, but at the end of the day they’re not what I want in my life.”
I cock my head, admittedly very curious about this new development. “How about women you do sleep with, what about them?”
“They only want sex, and when I do sleep with them, it only happens once.”
I stare at him, shocked by him. Of all the things I thought he’d tell me this certainly wasn’t one of them. And then suddenly something dawns on me. My mouth drops open, embarrassment flooding me.
His brows rise and he chuckles. “What is that look for?”
“Oh,” I say whimsically, “I’m just sitting here thinking that I thought you were a total playboy so I got all daring and totally seduced you.”
“Which I quite enjoyed,” he murmured, pulling me in closer.
“And yet, if I had known what you just told me before I probably would have never done that.”
He winks. “Good thing you didn’t know then.”
Apparently done with the conversation, he seals his mouth over mine. I’m still not sure what’s on his mind but his kiss is rough, telling me he doesn’t intend to stop until I quit thinking altogether. His hands are warming me, erasing the cold water around us. I reach for his face, embracing the power of his kiss, grinding myself against him in the way I’ve discovered he likes.
He groans and backs away then, swimming us over to the flat rocks at the edge of the island where we’d left our clothes. The water comes up to his knees when he takes hold of my waist and hoists me onto the edge of the rock. It’s not exactly comfortable, but I’m not thinking comfort when I watch Jackson reach for a condom out of his pants. I’ve seen three of my ex-boyfriends apply condoms, many, many times, and somehow, Jackson eroticizes the action.
The moon is casting a glow over him which further reflects out onto the water resembling black glass. Hard sculpted muscles fill my vision. There’s not one muscle more developed than another, he’s perfection. His chest perfectly squared, his abs perfectly cut. His cock my idea of perfect.
“You’re fucking me with your eyes, Mallory,” he says, breaking my trance.
