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The more I explain, the more his shoulder deflate until he drops his head almost shamefully. He glances up at me through eyes squinted with embarrassment. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” In his defense, it does look bad. If the situation was reversed, I'd react the same. No, I'd react worse. I would've been at that bar within the hour, dressed to the nines and ready to shove all my hotness in his face. I certainly wouldn't have sat at home quietly and let it happen.
“Fuck, Luna, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. A little dramatic but okay.”
With a hoarse chuckle, Jackson eliminates the space between, fingers hooking through the belt loops of my jeans, his forehead nudging mine with too light of a touch for my liking. “I don't share,” he reminds me, breath hot and words heavy, “I get jealous when I think the woman I like is on a date with someone else, especially when she's been ignoring me all day.” A guilty grimace twists my face for a moment before he wipes my expression clean with a swipe of his thumb against my bottom lip. “I get jealous and annoyed and a little upset, and the guys are assholes but they're loyal assholes so they do whatever they just did. I'm sorry we jumped to conclusions.”
“You were jealous,” I repeat, frowning when he nods. “But you still came to get me when I called?”
“Of course I did.”
“Why?”
For the first time tonight, Jackson touches me properly, not just a featherlight, fleeting brush, and the sigh of relief that leaves me is downright embarrassing. Smoothing my hair back, he cups my face with his hands and leans forward until we're sharing air, his breath tickling my lips and his gaze searching for something within mine. “I can't tell if you're purposely being difficult or if you really just don't know what it feels like to be liked.”
Probably a bit of both.
“You came because you like me.”
A small smile tugs at his lips, his nose gently brushing mine. “Atta girl.”
God, I feel ridiculously out of my depth. The way he looks at me, reacts to me, talks to me... It's rattling. Overwhelming. I'm not sure if I like it, but I know I like him and I can’t keep almost ruining shit.
Clutching at his wrist, I explain that as best I can. “I've never-”Had a healthy relationship that wasn't platonic, I finish silently. “I don't know how to do this.”
“I know,” he whispers softly, thumb stroking my cheek. “We'll take it slow. Whatever you're comfortable with.” He kisses my knuckles lightly, smiling against my skin. “How about we start with just dating? Exclusively.”
“I'm comfortable with exclusive,” I croak out. More than comfortable. The thought of him going out with or flirting with or even touching another girl makes me a little fucking rabid, actually.
Jackson's answering smile is utterly satisfied, just shy of smug. His grip shifts downwards, one large hand swallowing my neck and tilting my head upwards. I don't get any warning before his lips meet mine with surprising force, drawing a gasp out of me that he takes full advantage of by plunging his tongue into my mouth. It's quick and breathtaking and a little fucking depraved, all clashing lips, teeth, tongues.
When he pulls away after way too short a time, he squeezes my side, fingers digging into the layers of clothes separating me from him. With a groan, he tears himself away from me and heads for the door, leaving me panting in the middle of his room. “Where are you going?”
“Just need to talk to the guys for a second.” He pauses at the door and glances over his shoulder, jerking his head towards the bed. “I want you in that bed when I get back.”
“Naked?” I grin as his jaw tightens. Rolling my eyes, I sarcastically salute him and shrug off his jacket. “Yes, sir.”
Dark eyes gleam, and I half expect Jackson to stalk across the room and kiss me again. But, much to my disappointment, he slips out the door, leaving the door cracked behind him as he disappears downstairs.
A better woman would ignore the low voices drifting upstairs.
I eavesdrop shamelessly.
“Her date didn't pan out?” Nick quips dryly, something undeniably protective softening his snarky tone.
“Cut the attitude.” Jackson’s stern tone sends a shiver up my spine and God, isn’t it a little sick that I wish he was using it on me? “She wasn't on a date, she was with a friend. Not that it's any of your business. Or mine,” he grumbles the latter, regret tainting his tone.
The rest of the conversation isn’t clear but the reaction to Dylan’s murmured name is unmissable. Snarled curses erupt immediately, and I pick out Ben asking if I'm okay, Nick asking if Amelia is, both questions making me smile.
When their voices quieten and footsteps creep my way, I don’t linger any longer. I make quick work out of changing into a spare tee and boxers before burrowing under the covers. Only minutes later, warmth engulfs me, an arm encircling my waist as a woodsy scent wafts over me.
I snuggle back into Jackson, sliding my hand into his where it rests on my stomach. Lips press against the spot just below my ear. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“No, I really don't.” I squeeze his suddenly very tense hand. “It wasn't a big deal. I'm okay, I promise.”
Jackson says nothing, just buries his head in the crook of my neck, the arm trapped underneath me curling upwards to lock across my chest and hold me as close as possible.
