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"I'm sor-"
"Eat!" he croaks out.
How the hell can someone confessing their love for you sound so angry and so painful? I did that to him, and I hate myself for it.
Hands shaking, I pick up my fork and knife, cut into my Beef Wellington, and bring it to my mouth. All with him watching me. Even the un-realness of this moment can't stop me from realizing how amazing this tastes. I have to fight to keep my eyes from closing at the pastry melting on my tongue, the soft beef exploding over my taste buds. I can tell he tries to fight it, the smile that begins making the corners of his mouth tick up, but he loses his battle, his smile forming, eyes softening. A weight, nowhere near all of it, lifts just a little from my stomach. I swallow, figuring if there's any time to try and speak again, this might be it.
"I never meant to hurt you, Jackson," I say.
He picks up his own fork and knife, and begins eating, so I take that as it's okay for me to continue.
"I thought... I was wrong to..." I sputter, not knowing the right thing to say, and not wanting to say the wrong thing. Clearly, I'vedone that enough. "I should have told you the truth, what I felt, why I was saying we couldn't continue being together, all of it. I should have asked, and I can't even explain to you how angry at myself I am that I didn't. I could have saved us both from heartbreak, apparently."
He chews, not giving me any expression, no words, nothing. I don't know what the fuck to do now.
"Eat," he tells me again, much more quietly than before.
I do, this time getting some green beans. Of course, they're amazing too.
"Do you..." I stop, too afraid to ask. Then I murmur to myself, "Maybe I don't have the right to ask."
"I would hope," he says with an arched brow, "that you've learned it's better to ask questions than to assume."
I nod and swallow. "Do you want to be with me?"
"You eat and I'll talk. I'll tell you exactly what's going to happen now."
If he did all of this, told me how he feels, made all of this happen for me, and then told me he didn't want me, told me my lie had cost us anything, I don't think I could bear it. Terrified, I cut off another piece and bring it to my mouth. He nods.
"Now that we both know everything, there's only one thing to do."
I stop chewing, listening like these next words determine my entire world for me. They do.
"We're gonna finish our meal, and the moment you eat the last bite, I'm going to pull you out of that chair and kiss you until you can't fucking breathe. And when I rip my mouth away from yours, it'll be to tell you words I've wanted to say and haven'tfor far too long. Then I'm gonna spread you like a fucking meal right on that counter over there, and devour you like one, before I fuck you on top of that cold marble until you're screaming my name. After that, I'm gonna take you home, to my house, where you belong, and we're gonna lay in bed talking about the forever I refuse to let evade us."
He doesn't ask me anything. Doesn't at all make it sound like anything he just said is an option. There's not anything for me to decide. Nothing for me to do but follow his instructions. And why wouldn't I, when everything he just said is squeezing my heart and igniting my body.
"You might wanna eat a little quicker than that," he says low. "I don't know if I have the patience to wait if it takes you much longer."
I want to tell him to just come for me now, to reach across this table and fuck me until all the time I had to spend without him disappears from my mind. But this meal, and what he made, means too much. We eat in silence, him staring at me, me watching him through my lashes. My thighs rub together under the table, nipples hard against the lace of my bra, wetness already soaking my panties. Then I get to the last bite. I look from my plate to Jackson. He's done, pushing his plate away, licking his lips, leaning forward like he's preparing to pounce.
I swallow and put my fork into the Beef Wellington. Bringing it to my mouth, I love the way his eyes flare when I close my lips around it. I chew, and I don't do it slow deliberately, but because I'm savoring the way he's looking at me. After seeing anger there, finding such desire and naked need in his gaze now seems impossible. I want every single bit of it.
Finally, I swallow. I see his shoulders rise with his deep inhale and exhale. And then he's moving. He shoots out of the chair,and by the time the gasp at his quick movement leaves me, his hand is at my throat, forcing me to standing. And his mouth crashes down on mine.
It feels like forever since I felt his lips, their demand for me to open, the way his tongue doesn't seek mine out, but moves against it like it has no choice but to lash his right back. It's been far too long since he's made me submit to his control. God, am I ready to.
His hand tightens on my throat as the other goes to my hair, wretching my head to the side until it's tilting like his. Then his mouth is opening more, taking more from me, demanding I give him more. Give him everything. As if I wouldn't.
Just when my lungs are screaming for air, as my hands come up and my fingers begin running through his hair, he rips his mouth away from me. And I freeze. Because I know what comes next. I know what words he'll say. And I will not breathe, will not move, will not blink until he says them.
"I love you."
A heavy breath bursts from my lips. Those words, they make it feel like the world is mine, but who the fuck needs the world when those words make him mine. His heart, mine. Jackson, mine. His mouth begins to close the small distance between us again, but I stop him, yanking on his hair for once to stop his progress. Because I can't wait another second, not until after he's licked me, fucked me, driven me to his house. I need to say it now.
"I love you, Jackson," I breathe. "I love you. I love you."
"Fuck me like you love me."
