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I finished up and climbed out, still horny.
Jackson took over the bathroom while I dried my hair in my bedroom. He was quicker than me, though, and when I was done, I discovered him upstairs making breakfast.
He peered over his shoulder from the stove. “Poached egg on toast okay? We don’t have much else.”
“That sounds perfect. We should go shopping for food. Do you think I’d be safe if we went to a supermarket?”
He carried a plate to the table. “If we drove out far enough away from home, I’d think so. But ye wouldn’t leave my sight.”
I picked up my fork and gestured to him. “No problem there. Pretty sure my body would riot if I wasn’t near you.”
He plated up his food and sat across from me, his cheeks a little red. After a minute of eating, he framed a question. “What did ye enjoy most last night?”
I tried to contain my smile and listed on my fingers. “Loved the passion of nearly screwing on the stairs, getting down to it on the sofa, then again in the shower. Waking up to you fucking me blew my mind. I also really love the feeling when you come. When you twitch or pulse inside me. That is chef’s kisses delicious.”
“Hard to deliver that last item more than once a session, but good to know.”
“What about you?” I asked, finishing my last bite of toast. Sex really worked up an appetite.
Jackson raised a shoulder. “Everything.”
“Name one thing.”
His gaze shifted downward, but his lips curved into a satisfied smile.
I held my breath. “You’re not about to say we can’t do it again, are you?”
His focus darted back to me.
For a long moment, we just watched each other. In the past, his gaze on me had churned me up. I wanted him to look at me, but with lust, not tolerance or whatever he’d felt when he’d seen me as his friend’s younger sister.
I was something else to him now. What, I wasn’t sure. And I wasn’t going to ask either.
He shook his head in the negative.
“Good,” I breathed.
Jackson gave a laugh, jumping up to clear the plates. “Good, she says.”
“Hey, at least I’m giving information.”
“On the subject of information, tell me the next top three things from your list.”
I pulled the sheet of paper from my pocket. Shook it out. “More sex toys sounds fun. From behind again but on all fours. Semi-public with the risk of exposure.”
On the table, his phone buzzed.
“Your mom again,” I told him. “I’ll do the dishes. You handle that.”
He exhaled in frustration and returned to the table. “I’ll need to talk to her eventually. But Christ is she persistent.”
“Where does she live?” I asked.
“Inverness.”
The phone kept vibrating.
Last night, he’d rejected my help. I had a rush of intuition that things had somehow changed.
