“Yeah, babe. I will. Promise.” His smile had a softness to it, a fondness that grew each time I saw it. “And that brings us to another thing. A better thing.”
His voice deepened. Even though a hint of tension remained, a more primal wish overcame it. My cock jumped in my jeans.
Jackson pushed himself off the bed. One hand reached down to grab the hem of his T-shirt and pull it over his head. And he did have scars. Scars that whispered stories of bullets and knives that bullied their way through his flesh, of abrasions made by the jagged Martian soil however it had reached his skin. I let my gaze wash over them so my brain would learn the pattern and gain a baseline for his apparent health, then I forced my perspective to change.
No scars. No old wounds and old memories. Flesh and blood, muscle and skin, a dusting of hair that covered his chest and led down his belly to the Promised Land, the beautiful body that became more attractive each time I saw it. Workouts and exertion in his service had done well by him. He had both earned and cultivated muscle, and the result was muscle groups I could see and touch without an overbuilt look to them.
I let a smile spread over my face. “You’re perfect,” I said, my voice husky. “Absolutely perfect. God, I knew you were gorgeous, but it’s so much better in real life.”
“Even better when you touch it,” he said, and reached out to pull me closer. His hand slid down my arm to my hand, which he lifted to place on one glorious, sculpted pectoral.
I’d started to tremble, though I didn’t know when. My breaths came in swift, shallow gulps as I caressed his skin. Warm beneath my hand. Soft and addictive to the touch, with firm muscle beneath it. I traced the line of his chest up to his collarbone, ran my fingertips over the bone and muscles there, then explored the curve of his shoulder and bicep.
Trust me when I say I’d seen plenty of men without their shirts. None of them could ever compare to the man I had married. His body showed a lifetime of hard work and fearless action, and I felt like a teenager who’d never seen another person naked. Gawky. Awkward. Stunned by the wealth of flesh showed by the removal of a shirt.
Strong hands moved to unbutton my shirt, as eager as a birthday boy with a gift to unwrap. When he reached the bottom button, he kissed me, pressing our bare chests together and kicking my heartbeat into overdrive. It was the best of excuses to remove my hands from his chest so he could pull my shirt sleeves over my arms and throw my shirt at the hamper.
I was breathless when he broke the kiss. He stared into my eyes, searched them, then urged me back a step for his own look. I watched his gaze sweep down from my face, over my torso, and catch on the first of the scars along my left side.
He hadn’t expected those. No one does. Joan had recoiled from them, though they’d looked far angrier when she’d first seen them. Jackson walked a slow circle around me, investigating how those textured memories wrapped over the entire left side of my waist and disappeared into my waistband to cover my hip. Perhaps he’d find the rest of them on my leg and over the left cheek of my ass, too, if they didn’t put him off removing my pants.
Warmth enveloped my back as he pressed his chest against it. Strong arms wrapped around me, hands trailing over my waist and down my belly to rest on my waistband. “We don’t ask about scars,” he murmured in my ear. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready. But whatever happened there? You’re hotter for surviving it. It makes me want you more.”
I couldn’t help it. I shivered, a full-body shake that brought a gasp out of me. He suckled my earlobe between his lips, teasing it with the tip of his tongue as he unfastened my belt and unbuttoned my jeans.
“I want to see more of you, babe. You’re so goddamn appealing, I have to see more.” He had a way of turning his voice into a gentle but firm command, one that brought out an immediate desire to do whatever he said.
I nodded. Breathed harder. “Yes. Please.”
“We’re gonna go slow, Bastian,” he said, breath hot on my ear as he spoke. “We’re gonna let it build until you’re begging for my cock. You told me to teach you. I’ll teach you. One lesson at a time. Hear me?”
I heard him. Heard him, and almost didn’t need more than his voice to force a whimper out of me. “Yes. Whatever you want.”
“It’ll be what you want, too.” A growl, and a promise, and a plea. “You’ll see.”
The warmth left my back as he walked around in front of me. Hunger burned in his eyes with the ferocity of a wildfire that will not stop until it consumes all in its path. He pushed my jeans down, forced them over my legs and took my socks with them, until only my deep blue underwear remained.
My cock strained against the fabric, desperate for touch. He gave it no more than an accidental brush, but even that pulled a gasp from me. Then he stood up to look me over, to do as I had done and take in my scars before he turned his attention back to the rest of my body. I had forgotten how to move. He set my hands on the button of his fatigues and raised an eyebrow at me.
That was all the reminder I needed. I worked the fastens and pulled his camouflage pants down, over his legs and removing his socks as he had done for me. His legs had just as much muscle as the rest of him, strong and, I imagined, unfaltering as he charged over the Red Planet’s surface. I could imagine them driving his cock into me, muscles taut as he worked them…
Fingertips beneath my chin brought me back to the present. He drew me up to him with a firm touch, and claimed a tangled, heated kiss. Our bodies pressed closer together, chests touching, arms wrapped around each other, cocks brushing with a near-forbidden feeling that made me so damn hard I ached.
This. I’d wanted this for decades. No, I’d wantedmorefor decades, butmorebegan here, with cocks restrained by cotton and desires slipping their leashes. He groaned as our shafts brushed again, a shudder shooting through him and bringing out a sympathetic shiver in me.
“I need you,” I murmured against his lips. “Jackson, I fucking need you so much right now.”
“I know,” he said, and nipped at my lower lip. “I know you do. I need you, too. My cock is so goddamn hard. But we’re gonna go slow, babe. I want you begging for me to fill you. We have to make sure you want me.”
I whimpered and kissed him, as desperate as I’ve ever felt, and somehow, I knew that was only the beginning. “Idowant you. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”
“Mmm,” he said, and stroked one hand down my hip to dip into the waistband of my underwear. “You’re gonna be good and ready to take me. I want you dreaming about me inside you when you shower. Or grinding against the bed, thinking about when I push myself inside you.”
Every word felt like a burning brand that seared me and stoked the fires higher. My cock ached with the sweetest pain as it begged for touch. “You’ll be the first inside me.”
“And you’ll be all mine.” Jackson’s hand ran along the inside of my waistband, so close to the shaft pleading for him to touch it. “I will fill you with my cock, and fill you with my come, and you will be all.Mine.”
My hips rocked forward, towards his hand and towards his cock, because I had to feel him. Had to taunt myself with another of those restrained touches. He growled a chuckle and bent his head to kiss my neck.