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There’s a moment when her hands brush against my chest, with her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, that our eyes meet. My heart hammers, my blood heats and I swear she almost says what I’m thinking.

Instead she kisses me, pressing her lips to mine as if she would die without it.

I go slow for a moment, wanting it back. Wanting that moment back and needing to know what she was going to say.

The three words are right there for me too, but I swallow them down and lower my chest to hers, holding her as I fuck her faster, but deeper still.

“Fuck!” she yelps and her pussy flutters around my cock. My thumb finds her clit and a cold sweat forms on my back as it all intensifies.

Her muffled cries of pleasure fill the room and I fucking love it. I’ve always wanted her, I’ve fantasized about it, but this? The sight of her getting off on my cock is better than I could have imagined.

“Jackson.” She calls out my name again, this time with desperation as I hook my arm under her knee and pull it up so I can get even deeper.

“Don’t worry,” I say and kiss her neck. “You can take me.” With that whispered, I piston my hips, fucking her deeply and roughly.

She comes again, screaming my name this time and I can’t stop. I take her savagely. Without holding back a damn thing and I don’t come until she reaches her third climax.

AUBREE

It’s all slow and fuzzy when I first wake up, which isn’t uncommon for the morning after a Sunday night out. It all depends on how the game goes. If it’s a close one, with lots of tension and shouting, I can still feel it in my muscles the day after. But something is off. I know it even before I’m aware I’m unfortunately hungover.

It’s not the lingering effects of too many shots that’s making me feel heavy and sated, though.

Since when did my blankets have this much weight to them?

It only takes one weak stretch to feel another person under the sheets. With wide eyes and a quick glance around Jackson’s living room, all of last night tumbles into my memory.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

It comes back all at once, and the shock feels like a shot glass slamming down on the bar. Jackson. I came home with Jackson last night.

It’s futile to pull the sheet up against my bare chest as I stare down at his naked form. How the hell did we both sleep on his couch?

I did more than sleep on this sofa.

The cushion groans slightly and I slow my movements as I attempt to slip out, still very much naked and groggy.

Every little moment flashes back and the conflicting emotions intensify. He kissed the side of my neck in front of the entire bar. He upped the ante in the game we played for years. Was he jealous of the guys who were hitting on me? Or … I don’t know. All I know is that it became something else when I kissed him back.

I barely remember anything about the ride home. All I remember is his mouth on mine, the deep murmurs and lust-filled groans. And how warm his body felt against mine.

Last night was better than I ever imagined it would be. The morning after, though? Well, there’s a reason I’ve never dreamed of this moment.

Bottom line: we crossed a big red line last night in front of everyone. That truth is a flashing bright light in my face as I tiptoe across the living room in search of my underwear.

Sex with your best friend’s brother is a no-no. I can already see the look of shock on Cheryl’s face. I can already imagine how awkward our group outings with friends will be.

Blood drains from my face and the regret slips in.

I never meant to take it this far.

My heart pounds as I stand paralyzed, clinging to Jackson’s navy blue comforter which is pressed against my chest. His living room is neat and masculine in the pale early morning sun filtering through the blinds. Apart from our clothes from last night strewn across the carpeted floor.

Eventually, I take in Jackson’s sleeping form. His firm—and bare—ass is fully on display, his arm hanging over the edge of the sofa. He’s dead to the world and guiltily I lay the comforter across him. His face is turned toward the back of the sofa, and his other arm is tucked under his pillow in a way that shows off his muscular frame. Broad shoulders rise and fall with every deep breath. Just as I feel a touch of ease, he mumbles something I can barely hear and I freeze. A beat passes and then another.


Tags: Willow Winters, W. Winters Romance