Page 97 of Just One Look


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“I have.”

I plant several kisses along the middle of his chest before looking up again.

A crease forms between his brows as he stares blankly down at me. He doesn’t know what to make of that. But I don’t care. If this is going to be a one-time thing, something neither one of us ever mentions again, I’m not holding back. I’m going to say and do what I want, and I don’t care how romantic it may be.

Tonight, I’m going to make Jackson Huntermine.

“This has to go,” I say, digging my fingers into the towel.

“If this goes, so does that.” He points a finger at the boxer briefs I slipped into after I left him in the bathroom.

“Fine.” I pepper kisses along his pecs, up to his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, stopping just short of his mouth, pulling away as I stand to full height in front of him. “On the count of three?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot. Shut up and get naked already.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but my already hard dick gets even harder after he says that. I slide the boxers down my legs and step out of them, watching with a laser focus as Jackson unhooks the towel, letting it fall to the floor.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say, hooking one hand behind his neck and taking in his naked form. I may have blown the guy, but it was near impossible to see anything under the cover of the blanket he was holding over us.

But I get to see every glorious inch of his naked body now. His dick is hard and wet at the tip, and despite his joking around, his eyes are dark with desire, lids hooded as he takes in my body.

“I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you, Jackson,” I say, taking him by the hand and moving us both over to the bed.

“Do you come with an Off button?”

I open my mouth and gesture toward it. “Down the back of my throat. I believe you’re familiar with it.”

His cheeks flame. He may not know what to make of all this, and I sure as shit don’t intend on making it any easier for him. If I want to be romantic, I’m going to be romantic. If I want to talk dirty, I’m going to talk dirty. If I want to fuck him senseless and then hold him in my arms afterward, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

And there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

Outside in the field, everything was rushed and urgent. Now that we’re indoors, warm, and not being pelted by rain, I’m goingto take my time, savor every moment, every breath, every moan of pleasure I draw from him.

He lies down on the bed, and I move on top of him, bringing our noses together. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You sure you’re okay with everything? Is the room bright enough for you?”

His breath catches. “It’s fine.”

“Because, not to brag, I do fantastic work. You’ll want to see it. Trust me.”

He averts his gaze, sliding his hand across my chest. “I’ll stop with the jokes if you stop talking, period.”

“Deal. Just don’t kill me after, okay?”

He opens his mouth with what I’m sure is another smart-ass retort but stops himself at the last minute.

I drop a trail of kisses starting at his chin, down his neck, then follow a central line south from his Adam’s apple, licking my way down to the base of his neck, his breastbone, his solar plexus, the faint lines of his abs, his belly button, the dark trail of hair leading from his navel downward, the base of his cock, down the length all the way to the tip.

I curl my fingers around it, firm but gentle, and take in every inch of his arousal. As he pulses beneath my skin, I marvel at the weight and heat, the slight upward curve, the precum oozing out of his slit.

Ducking down, I glide the tip of my tongue gently against his crown, scooping up his salty release, letting the burst of flavor dance on my tongue, before swallowing. I take him in my mouth as I turn my gaze up to him.

Jackson moves through the world with purpose. Determination. And a bit of rage thrown in for good measure. He’s a man on a mission, going from point A to point B.

But not right now.