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Chapter Thirty-Six
Lena
Istood with my back against the door and sank to the floor. My God, what just happened? I couldn’t believe I let Jackson kiss me. Earlier in the evening I’d made a promise to Brodie, and myself, that I wouldn’t get involved with Jackson that way.
I skimmed my finger over my lips, remembering his touch, the texture, the taste. Jackson’s lips had been so soft. He’d been so tender and loving. I could tell he was holding back the second time because of the way he let me take control. The first kiss had been more urgent, but the second … the second kiss was tender and caring. I’d never been kissed like that before. I licked my lips and thought about what to do.
Oh God, I wanted him so much.
I got up, yanked off my clothes, and got into the sweat pants and T-shirt that belonged to Jackson so I could have him close to me. I reached over and grabbed the headset and phone he’d lent me. Then I climbed under the covers, bringing them up under my chin, a poor substitute for Jackson’s warm body. Music always soothed my spirit, and it was comforting to sleep by, particularly the Christina Perri album he’d downloaded to it. As the song “Arms” played softly, I wrapped my own around my shoulders and thought about Jackson’s strong biceps, pretending he was right there beside me, rocking me to sleep.
But I couldn’t sleep. How could I sleep thinking about that kiss and the song he said was about me. I couldn’t believe he thought about me that much to write a song. I lay there for about fifteen minutes more and decided to get up and make some tea.
