I love him.
I don’t want to be near him.
I can’t help but come back for more.
Jackson reaches for me, his fingers cradling my chin as he lifts my face up so our gazes meet. “Kiss me.”
I slowly shake my head, denying myself what I’ve wanted for so long. “It’ll be a mistake.”
“No, it won’t. Come on.” He smiles, his straight, white teeth almost blinding.
“You’ll regret it,” I whisper.
“I will?” His brows shoot up, his thumb stroking my jaw. “You so sure about that?”
I nod, his fingers never slipping from my face. “You’ll kiss me once and want to keep kissing me.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” He touches the corner of my mouth with his finger and I want to melt, damn him. “Maybe you’ll feel the same way.” He frowns. “You’ll kiss me once and never want to stop.”
He smiles. Leans in closer, his mouth so close to mine, I feel it move when h
e speaks. “Let’s test this theory then.”
I should let him kiss me. Consequences be damned. I’ll survive. I’ve lived through all of his torture before. What’s one kiss? And what if he’s terrible at it? That would end my suffering once and for all, and besides, it’s the perfect time for him to be terrible at it.
He’s drunk. He’ll be sloppy. Unskilled even.
I don’t think too much about it. Instead, I tilt my head back, lift up and press my mouth to his. He goes completely still, I think from shock, and nothing happens for a second. Two. Three. I’m about to pull away, mortified that he doesn’t react, when he cradles my cheek with his hand and moves his mouth against mine.
Oh God. He’s kissing me. Jackson Rivers is actually kissing me. And it’s not sloppy at all. He’s just as skilled as I was afraid he’d be.
He tilts his head to the side, his mouth soft, his lips tugging on my lower lip. I open for him, his tongue sliding in, dancing around my own. My entire body turns to liquid at the first touch of his tongue and my fingers clutch fistfuls of his T-shirt as I anchor myself to him, drowning in his kiss.
It’s so good. Too good. Everything I was afraid of. How will I go on if all I ever get is this one kiss?
Jackson ends it first, pressing his forehead to mine, his breaths ragged. As if he’s just run a marathon. I swallow hard, trying to find the right words to say, but what can I do after a kiss like that?
Demand more, that’s what.
I edge closer to him, just about to press my lips to his again when he says, “That was—nice.”
I pull away, dread settling low in my stomach. “What did you just say?”
“Ellie. Come on. You know we can’t do this, right?” His hand drops from my face and he takes a step away from me.
I’m immediately cold at the loss of his warmth. Oh, and furious. Coldly furious.
“Right,” I bite out. “We can’t do this.”
“It was a great kiss though.” He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Why is he acting like this? Why is he pushing me away? “You’ll be hard to resist.”
His compliment feels like a smack in the face. The smack of reality I need. “You’re an asshole, Jackson.” I reach behind me, my fingers fumbling with the door handle before I grasp it tight. “Looks like you proved your point.”
“What point is that?” He sounds genuinely confused.
“That you can have me whenever you want me.” I open the door and am halfway out of his room before I say, “But that was your last shot. Hope you enjoyed it.”
I slam the door in his face before he can utter another word.