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“You made me a PB and J?”
He swallowed. “Yeah. I know it’s not fancy, but…”
“It’sperfect.”
Carly’s eyes flicked over the plate in front of her before she scooped the toasted, crusty bread up in both hands. “Oh, you buttered the toast. Brilliant.”
Jackson blinked, committing the image of Carly’s face to memory. The lone curl that had fallen from the knot on her head now played across the swoop of her cheekbone, softening her expression even further, and she lifted the sandwich to her mouth. She closed her eyes, mahogany lashes creating shadows on her face, and inhaled deeply.
“Ohhh, God it smells divine.” Her stomach growled—not a ladylike “ahem,” but an out and out snarl, as if it had teeth. Something about the visceral reaction made Jackson want to lay waste to the flimsy counter between them, and he gripped the edges of the chipped Formica hard enough to make it creak. An apologetic blush crept across Carly’s cheeks, but he headed her off before she could say a word.
“Don’t say it.” The gruff edge to his own words surprised him, but Jackson didn’t relent. “If you’re hungry, eat.”
Carly opened her mouth and took a huge bite, and when she released a faint moan of pleasure, it was all he could do to let her keep eating.
“This,” she mumbled, covering her mouth with one hand as she finished chewing, “is so good it should be illegal.” Her next bite sent a dribble of grape jelly down the curve of her hand, but Carly either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She ate ravenously, taking bite after bite, her expression leaving no guesswork as to whether or not she was enjoying herself.
Jackson laughed, the low rumble filling him to the brim. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
“Hmm-mmm.” Carly’s protest was more in her eyes than her words, and she shook her head for emphasis. “It’s total comfort food.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
A streak of want blazed a path from his chest to his gut before heading even further south. There was zero chance he was going to last much longer on this side of the narrow breakfast bar. Jackson forced himself to stop looking at the tiny purple smudge lingering in the corner of her mouth. Christ, he’d give his left arm to be grape fucking jelly right now.
Carly snorted, which was probably no easy task with a mouth full of peanut butter. “Like it? I think I want to marry it.” She took another bite, and Jackson promptly burst out laughing.
“I should’ve known you’d take your comfort food seriously.” He pulled himself away from her long enough to grab a glass from a nearby cupboard, pausing briefly at the fridge on his way back to the breakfast bar.
“That’s because this is serious comfort food.” Her eyes crinkled in happiness as he poured her a glass of milk. “I have to admit it. You nailed the food experience.”
“With a PB and J?”
She popped the last edge of the crust into her mouth, nodding with a grin. “Oh, yeah. It was just what I wanted—simple, feel-good food. Perfect for today, actually.”
Something about her words broke through the tough surface layers of Jackson’s consciousness, shooting past the red flags and warning signs in his brain. How good he felt, just standing there in the kitchen watching her eat, should’ve made him wary. Hell, if she’d been any other woman, he’d have cut and run weeks ago. But there was something about her that madewantingher a foregone conclusion.
And for once in his life, Jackson didn’t want to fight it.
“There’s not much by way of dessert,” he apologized, watching her brush the crumbs from her hands. The scar on her finger flashed in a thin, white line, and Jackson reached out instinctively to capture her hand in his.
“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t…” Carly stopped, eyes shuttering closed as he stroked her palm with both of his thumbs. Her hands were a lot smaller than his, yet so strong and capable, and a rush of need swirled around in his belly as she curled her fingers into his.
“I don’t want dessert,” she whispered.
“What do you want?” He rounded the meager expanse of countertop that separated them without letting go of her hand.
“I want you.” Carly stared at him, unblinking. Honest. Real.
He didn’t think twice.
Their mouths crashed together, both seeking and finding all at once. Jackson cupped the back of her neck, threading his fingers in the dark fall of her hair to free the knot over his hands. He parted her knees with his body, releasing her from the kiss for just a breath.
“I want you, too.”
The crush of her chest against his was wicked and hot, and he gripped her hips with both palms to pull her to the edge of the bar stool. The move brought their bodies flush, and when she wrapped her legs around his waist, the friction made his already hard cock throb with need.
“Jackson.” Carly’s voice was thick with desire, daring him not to stop, and he considered ripping every stitch of her clothing off right there in the kitchen. The perfect components of their perfect day, the way he felt so fucking good around her, how maddeningly sexy she was just sitting there, all of it made him want her that much more.
