With the swirl of my tongue, I brought her close to climax and backed off, feeling her body tighten, as her fingers dug into the sheets above.
“Jackson!” she whimpered in frustration, feeling the loss of my mouth from her core.
Without answering, I shoved my hands under her ass and hoisted her onto my shoulders. A yelp of surprise followed.
“What are you doing?” she said in a hushed voice.
I answered by pushing her against the far wall and picking up where I’d left off. My tongue rubbed her clit, and I held her high up above me on the wall. Muffled cries came soon after as her body pressed and writhed against me until she finally broke apart.
Sliding her body down, I pinned her between me and the wall with one hand. Not wasting a second, I undid the button of my jeans.
“Teach me to sin, Jackson,” she whispered, watching me with hooded eyes.
I grasped my hard length in my hands and slowly lowered her inch by glorious inch.
“Being with you could never be called a sin, sweetheart,” I answered.
“Then, make me, make me love you,” she cried out, ad-libbing the poem, as our bodies joined tightly together.
Her legs wrapped around my waist as my fingers dug into her backside. Every thrust was rough and merciless as I made good on my promise to shake and rattle the walls around us.
I would continue to make this woman love me until the last breath left my dying body. With my soul, my touch, and my heart, I would capture hers and hold on to it like the precious treasure it was.
My primal need to claim and make her mine raged on as I buried myself into my chosen mate, over and over, feeling like my soul was being branded by her just as strongly. As we both hurdled over the edge, my lips crashed into hers, and our muffled cries softened.
I knew only one thing.
Olivia Prescott owned me, body and soul.
I just hoped she understood what that meant.
~Liv~
“I’m going to beat you!” I nearly sang into my cell as I turned around the corner toward our houses.
Jackson and I had both scheduled short days, so we could be there when Noah arrived home from the bus on his first day. Every other following day, he’d come home by himself. Jackson had decided Noah was old enough to do a trial run.
But today was special, and we wanted to celebrate it—assuming Jackson ever made it through downtown traffic.
“Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes, ten tops,” he grumbled loudly.
“He’ll be fine. I’ll bring him over to my house and make him a snack. We’ll see you in a few.”
“Sounds good. And, Liv?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
The call ended before I could respond, but it didn’t stop the multitude of butterflies from coming to life in my stomach. That man did an amazing job of making me feel like a giggly schoolgirl just by uttering three tiny words.
Hell, one lopsided grin could turn me into mush.
Turning onto our street, I parked in front of my manicured green lawn, trying to stop myself from smiling when I noticed the way Jackson had taken extra time to mow diagonally rather than straight across because he knew I liked it.
Now, I was getting crazy over grass.
I had become one of those women, the kind who went weak in the knees when her man was around and sighed like a lovesick puppy when he wasn’t.
Love was weird.
Luckily, I didn’t have much more time to find anything else to send my heart a flutter. With a high-pitched squeal of the tires, the bus came to a stop in front of Jackson’s house, and I watched as the door was tossed opened.
Not wanting to ruin any cool points Noah might have earned during the day, I stayed back, and for a moment, I pretended to be highly interested in my flowers, all the while looking over my shoulder as he made his way off the giant yellow bus.
Head down, hands shoved in his pockets, he didn’t make eye contact as he headed straight for his own house.
Did he not see me?
“Hey!” I said cheerfully as the bus pulled away. “How was your first day?”
He didn’t answer. He pulled out the key from his backpack and began to unlock the door.
“Your dad is running a bit late. We’re supposed to go to my house and wait for him.”
With the key halfway home, he paused. Shifting slightly, he pulled the key back out of the lock, shoved it in his pocket, and turned back around toward my front door.
Still, there was no peep.
“So, what’s up with the silent treatment?” I asked. I’d been given it more than once in my career. It didn’t really faze me, but it hurt a great deal more coming from Noah.
We made our way through the front door, and he continued saying nothing. He dropped his backpack on the floor next to the couch and followed me into the kitchen.
“Want something to eat?”
He shrugged.
Well, that was something I guessed.
Riffling through the pantry, I pulled out a box of organic cookies he always seemed to love, and dumped a handful out on a napkin. I turned toward the fridge to grab the almond milk—something else he had grown to like since meeting me.
I’d thought I was on that list of likes as well, but now, I was starting to doubt myself.
He begrudgingly sat down at the counter and silently stuffed a cookie into his mouth.
“Okay, Noah. I can handle this with my patients, but this is driving me nuts. Please tell me what’s going on.”
His eyes met mine, and I was nearly slapped in the face by the sheer volume of his anger.
“You lied to me,” he said slowly.
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“You said I would have a great day. You said everything would be okay.” There were tears in his eyes that he quickly brushed away with the sleeve of his shirt.
I took a step forward, wanting to comfort him, but stopped as I watched him move away.
“No one was nice, Liv. No one was kind. They all laughed at me and called me Hillbilly Jack because of the way I speak.”
“Noah, I—”
“Don’t.”
He turned and walked away, collapsing into the couch in the living where he tried to make himself invisible by curling into a tiny ball.
I took a few hesitant steps forward before walking toward the living room. I chose a seat across from him, hoping the small amount of distance would give him some breathing room.
“You don’t need to baby me, Liv, or pretend like you care.”
“But I do care,” I fought back.
“Why? You’re not my mom!” he said, the hurt in his voice bleeding through.