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“Please!”I whisper, my voice aching, rough with need.
“Oh, princess. You are asking for it. But you’re not getting it here. And I’m sure as hell not taking you back to your mothers or my mothers.”
My head lifts, my eyes cloudy and hazy with lust. “Then where?” I wail, feeling so close to crying at losing his touch when he tosses me over to the other side of the seat. He shifts the truck into drive and pats my hand.
“It will all work out, baby girl. It will. We just need to hang on a little longer. I’m so sorry but I absolutely will not take you for your first time on the front seat of my truck. Not fucking happening.”
I huff out a breath and slump in the seat, my body thumping with need. I push my lip out and he glances over, laughing lightly.
“You look like a toddler that just got its toy taken away. I promise you. I’ll take you. I’ll claim you and make you mine. But it’s gonna be right. Even if it’s killing me to wait.” He shifts on the seat and his full, soft lips curl wryly. “It feels like my balls are going to explode right now and believe me, this is hurting me more than it’s hurting you. But I want forever with you, baby girl. And forever doesn’t start with a hurried fuck in the front of a truck. It has to be perfect.”
I glare at him and growl, “Nothing’s perfect.”
He shoots me a serious look with something dark and deep and knowing in his eyes. “You are.”
ChapterFive
JACKSON
Fuck! My body feels like it’s on fire when I drop Joy off at her house. It feels like a piece of my heart stayed with her. Like it tore out and dropped to the ground and she picked it up in her little hands and carried it off with her.
I grimace. Poetry isn’t my strong suit. Sure, take a guy out with about a thousand different gestures of my deadly hands? I got you covered.
Bleed from a thousand different wounds and keep on coming until I get the bad guy and drop him like a bad habit? Yep, I can do that too.
But toss words like forever and love around and my body seizes up like I just walked into an electric fence and got stunned with a million volts.
Doesn’t sound good, does it? Fuck no, it doesn’t.
But I must be a closet masochist because I want nothing more than to stick my entire body into the stream over and over again and feel all those volts coursing through me.
“Shit, fuck!” I growl, rolling over in bed and knowing I’m not gonna get a fucking bit of sleep tonight. Not one second until I’m watching her ride me and then I’m driving my seed deep in her waiting body. My body thumps with desire and my heart feels like I’ve been running a marathon.
I sit up and stare at the little clock on the bedside table from when I was a kid. This room hasn’t changed a bit in the last ten years. The only thing that this room doesn’t have that most teenage boys’ rooms do is a poster or two or three of the models or whatever that you wanted to beat off to.
I’ve never felt like that about any other woman. I had Jessie. But strangely, I didn’t care about that kind of thing with her. I just wanted to feel her wrapped around me. See that shitty ass smile of hers that always told me she was about to blast me for something else.
Yeah, I must have been a masochist. I never fucked her. She was too squirrely for that. Always prattling on about perfect. How our life was going to be perfect when I was a famous football player and how we were going to have a big house and people waiting on her hand and foot.
And maybe that’s why I never pushed the issue of sex with her. It’s hard to get excited about a woman, even the woman you think you love, when she doesn’t say anything about you except how much money and glory you’re about to have.
And it didn’t feel like it was worth it. So I could throw a fucking ball. I could make a touchdown and win us a championship.
Girls threw themselves at my head even though I had a girlfriend and yeah, it felt good. What guy doesn’t like knowing that women want you?
But they didn’t want me. They wanted what I brought to the party. Money, fame. Bright lights and a big-ass diamond to slip on their fingers.
But that wasn’t what I wanted. What I needed.
I wanted to make a difference. To feel like my world meant more than a quick fuck and a few hours on a football field with a casual wave at the latest hook-up.
That’s not me.
So I went into the military. And that was a mess from the get-go. My sergeant hated my guts and made my life hell. But he got off on doing that to everyone so I wasn’t special in that regard either.
And then the first mission. And I got my first taste of what the life I asked for was going to do to me.
I did what I was told. I killed when I was told to. When I needed to. But every time I did it was like whiplash to my body. Each cut was deeper and harder, flaying me alive.
