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I groan as my heart sinks. Great. He probably thinks I fell in love with him or something last night.
I mean, I had an amazing time. And even if I initially want to cringe that I told him what I told him…it actually feels good to have done it. It feels like a little of the background noise I usually carry with me is quieter. Like the weight I usually feel is lightened.
Butplease. I don’t regret any of last night. He might have redefined what I consider the definition of an orgasm last night. And I’m relatively sure I’m not going to find that kind of ecstasyanywhereelse, which is a sobering thought. But it’s not like I’ve fallen head over heels for the man.
Jackson—however incredible he felt last night, and as amazing as it felt to open up with him—is still Jackson.
He’s still the drunken Mad King Asshole of Ego Island.
I shiver. Yes, last night was fun. But at least I didn’t lose my mind completely and give him my freaking virginity or something. I mean you’d have to be psychotic to want your first time to be with drunken, drug-abusing egomaniacal rock star.
I swallow, making sure that sticks good and deep before I take a breath.
I glance around, spotting my underwear and the rest of my clothes with a blush before reaching over and yanking them under the blankets. I slip them on, gasping a little as I’m yanked further from warm, cozy sleep into wakefulness.
Icy cold panties will do that.
When I’m dressed, I finally stand, wrapping one of the blankets around me as I pad into the kitchen to make some coffee.
My brow furrows. The coffee is already made.
I pour a mug in mild confusion, inhaling the steam as I bring it to my lips. Okay, maybe he’s got it on a timer or something? But then I turn, still frowning as I glance back at the fireplace. Okay, the logs crackling in it are clearly fresh, not smoldering embers from last night. So…what the hell is going on?
And then, I hear it.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
Frowning curiously, coffee mug clutched in my hands, I walk over to one of the kitchen windows and peer outside.
My face instantly flushes.
The thwacking sound is Jackson, swinging an axe high and then down to chop a log into firewood. And even though the snow and wind is whipping and swirling around him, he’s in just jeans, boots, a Henley with the sleeves pushed up, and a beanie.
Andfuck me, does something about that whole situation make my legs weak. And makes my core tighten and throb with heat. I don’t know what kind of messed up, monkey-brain caveman shit this is, but watching him—muscles rippling, jaw set tight against the swirling snow as he manhandles that axe—takes me from zero to hundred inseconds.
My thighs squeeze together, my eyes gleaming with desire as I just stand there in the window, sipping my coffee and watching him like a complete creep. Like a horny teenage boy spying on the girl’s locker room or something.
He keeps chopping another ten minutes or so before he starts tossing the pile of firewood around him into a wheelbarrow. He rolls his shoulders, dropping the axe in as well before he turns and shoves it though the snow back towards the front of the house.
I’m still in the kitchen when I hear the front door open and then shut with a loud bang. I can hear him muttering and grunting about the cold as he kicks his boots off. Then, my eyes follow him from my lurking spot in the kitchen as he stomps into the living room with an armful of wood to dump next to the fireplace.
Suddenly, he turns, and I blush as his eyes lock with mine. A devilish smirk curls the corners of his perfect lips.
“Morning,” he grunts.
“Good morning.”
My eyes devour him. And the lust I feel surging inside of me honestly scares me a little.
“The place should start warming up soon. I have a generator out by the garage that was supposed to kick on last night and didn’t. But I just reset the pilot on that, so, it’s running…”
He frowns and walks over to a vent by the floor, crouching to wave his hand over it. He grunts.
“There it is.”
I just swallow, feeling heat of my own pool between my legs. Feeling my chest constrict as my nipples harden.
Jackson sighs, tossing another log on the fire before he settles on the sofa and drops his head back.
