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He hums a laugh. “Really.”
Jesus.September. That's a while. No wonder I'm fucking coated in him.
As selfishly pleased as his confession makes me, it also incites a pit of guilt to settle deep in my chest. I shift awkwardly, curling into a ball on my side and dropping my gaze to a random spot on his chest.
“I, uh, slept with a few people,” I admit quietly. “A few one-night-stands and the guy from my office.”
The former, I barely remember. They were done in a drunken haze, nothing memorable about them. And Paul, I haven't touched in months. Not since I started talking to Jackson again. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize, sweetheart. We weren't together.”
His words do nothing to soothe the guilt heating my skin, spreading nausea all through me.
“Lu,” Jackson sighs quietly, gripping my chin and forcing my gaze to his. “It's okay. I'm not angry. You didn't do anything wrong.”
“But-”
“No buts,” he insists firmly. “Do I like it? No. Am I jealous that someone else got to have you like this? Fuck yeah.”
It's sick, really, that the concept of him being jealous sets something churning excitedly in my lower stomach. He knows it too, because his eyes spark for a brief moment, his grip momentarily tightening, before his expression softens.
“You did nothing wrong,” he repeats, so sincere and sure of himself that I can't help but believe it. “You sleeping with other people when we weren't even speaking, let alone together, does not change how I feel about you.”
My forehead rests against his, our noses brushing as I whisper, half-joking, half, serious, all terrified, “You still love me?”
“Always.”
53
JACKSON
I wakeup to the dulcet tones of my girlfriend screaming.
And not the kind of screaming she was doing last night. This is the banshee-esque, furious kind she does when she's pissed off.
God bless whoever the victim of that scream is.
Sighing, I roll out of bed and amble towards my ajar bedroom door, remembering I'm butt-ass naked at the last second and quickly tugging on some sweats. I yank the door open just in time to catch Luna kicking Cass in the shin, simultaneously socking him in the gut. “You little shit!”
Cass yelps, trying and failing to evade her attack. “I'm sorry!”
“Liar!”
My second sigh in the space of a minute escapes me as I hook an arm around my girlfriend's waist and scoop her up. Perfectly manicured hands slap at my forearm, sharp nails digging into my skin. “Let me go!”
I drop my head, brushing my lips against her cheek because that usually calms her down. Not today, apparently, because her escape attempts don't cease. “Explain why you're beating up Cass first.”
“He fucked my sister!”
Well, fuck.
Wasn’t expecting that.
For the first time, I notice Pen lurking in the hallway too, lingering just in front of Cass' open bedroom door. One of his jerseys is draped over her body, so big on her it slips off her shoulder slightly and reveals an array of reddish-purple marks scattered across her neck and chest. She’s trying not to laugh, a hand slapped over her mouth hiding her smile but there’s no doubting the humor sparkling in her eyes.
Really?I mouth at her.Cass?
Pen winks and holds up her hands, palms facing each other as she positions them a generous distance apart, wiggling her brows at me. When I cringe at her implication, she erupts into silent cackles.
