Hating the idea of her in pain, I did my best to at least make this part feel good. I feasted on her, savoring her taste on my tongue until she was writhing and breathless. Then I leaned back to take her all in.
Her hoodie was bunched above her breasts. Her knees were splayed open. And her eyes, full of lust and devotion, were aimed at me.
Only me.
I was the only man who’d ever seen that look on her face.
“Sweatshirt and bra off, babe.”
She nodded, scrambling to sit up. While she yanked it over her head and unclasped her bra, I whipped off both my plaid shirt and the T-shirt underneath.
“Pull back the covers,” I ordered. “Get in bed.” I didn’t want to risk getting blood on her grandma’s quilt.
Willa nodded again, obeying my commands without question.
As she scooted under the bedding, I stepped onto the floor and ripped down my jeans while simultaneously toeing off my boots. When I turned, Willa’s eyes were wide and aimed right at my bobbing cock.
“Touch me,” I whispered, stepping up to the bed. Then I took one of her hands and brought it to my dick.
She looked up at me as her palm fitted around my shaft. Her hands were so dainty but damn if she didn’t have a fierce grip. As her fingers closed around me, I fitted my hand on top of hers, just like I’d done when I’d taught her how to jack me off.
We stroked in unison, our eyes locked as our hands moved. A flush of color spread across her bare chest, rising up her neck as her grip tightened.
“Fuck, your hand feels good.” I closed my eyes and dropped my hand, letting her work me for a minute. When her thumb touched the drop at the tip, my eyes opened just in time to see her lick her lips.
Shit, I was going to come if she kept at it. I grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from my cock. Then I planted a knee in the bed and urged her onto her back. I settled into the space between her legs, careful not to crush her with my weight.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“Tell me, Willa. Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.” Her hands came to my cheeks. “Promise.”
I leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. “Say the word and we’ll stop.”
“I don’t want to stop.” She angled up her hips, brushing her damp curls against my dick.
“I’ll go slow.” I reached between us, gripping my cock at the base. I used the tip to toy with her clit over and over as I latched my mouth onto hers and kissed her deep.
Her legs began to tremble and her tongue twisted in a frantic rhythm against mine, so I gave her clit one last flick and then positioned at her entrance.
The change made her freeze and her eyes pop open. I broke my mouth from hers and held her gaze as my hips inched me forward.
“Okay?”
She nodded.
The tip slid right through her wet folds, her heat beckoning me further. I balled my fist in the bedding, using every scrap of willpower to take it slow. Inch by inch, out then in, I worked myself deeper until I was seated to the root.
She winced as I planted myself deep and I cringed. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “It’s not that bad. Just give me a sec.”
“Take your time.” I hovered above her, careful not to shift until she was ready. When she opened her eyes and gave me a small smile, I smiled back. “You’re amazing, babe.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re not so bad yourself, Jackson Page.”
“You ready for the good stuff?”
She giggled. “Show me what you’ve got.”
I pressed the base of my cock into her clit, earning a soft purr before pulling out slowly. My strokes began slow and measured, as I wanted to make sure she wasn’t in pain. But when her legs wrapped around my hips, urging me on faster, I lost control.
Thrust after thrust, I pistoned into her until her moans filled the room. When I reached between us for her clit, it barely took two flicks and she was coming apart, squeezing me so damn tight, I nearly blacked out.
“Fuck, Willa!” I roared to the ceiling as her inner walls clenched, milking my own release. I kept my hips moving, my finger on her clit, until the stars cleared from my eyes and I collapsed after the most intense orgasm of my life.
Willa let out a contented sigh as she came down from her high. Her arms wrapped around my back and her legs around my ass.
“I think you killed me, woman,” I murmured into her hair, making her giggle. I took one last drag of her sweet scent and lifted up to see her face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? That got a little rougher than I’d planned.”
“I’m perfect. You were perfect.”
This woman. She always knew exactly what I needed to hear. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this but thank you. I’m honored you wanted it to be me.”
Willa swallowed and looked to the ceiling, blinking furiously as she tried to keep the tears away.
“Come on.” I kissed the tip of her nose, then pulled out of her slowly, knowing she’d be sore. “Let’s take a shower.”
I stood first, then scooped her up in my arms to carry her into the bathroom. When the water was hot, I helped her under the spray.
It was a tight space for two people, but we made it work. As she stood close, I took my time washing her hair and body, savoring the steam filled with the smell of her coconut-and-vanilla shampoo. When we were both clean, dry and exhausted, I carried her back to bed and tucked us in.
“Good night,” Willa whispered, snuggling her back into my chest.
“Night, babe.” I closed my eyes and relaxed into her down pillows.
My arms pulled her even closer as peace settled over her dark bedroom. Being here, being Willa’s big spoon, was exactly the right place. Things just felt right.
“Jackson?”
“Hmm?”
Her hand slipped under mine. “Thank you.”
“For what? Sex?” I chuckled. “You don’t ever have to thank me for sex.”
“No.” She laughed. “Not for sex. For making a dream come true.”
She’d done it again. She said things that made my heart beat too hard. She said things that made me unable to speak.
So I kissed her hair and held her close as she dozed off.
I was glad I’d been able to give her this dream. Some other man—a man who believed in love—would get her others.
But at least I’d gotten this one.
“Morning, babe.” Jackson wrapped his arms around me as I stood at the stove. “What are we trying for breakfast today?”
I smiled up at him. “French toast.”
“Sounds good. Want more coffee?”
“Sure.”
He kissed my neck before letting me go and grabbing my mug. He went to the other side of my kitchen to refill it, delivering it with another kiss, then he got out his own coffee cup from the cupboard. After he filled it, he leaned against the counter to watch me cook.
He was wearing nothing more than a pair of navy boxers, his muscles on full display. His eyes were still heavy with sleep as he sipped his coffee. The longer strands of his hair on top were disheveled.
It was my favorite time with Jackson.
Had I known how handsome he was in the morning, I would have worked harder to get his attention all those years ago.
Not even the view of the lake in the spring with the flowers in bloom after a long winter, with the grass neon green and the mountains royal blue in the distance, was as beautiful as the sight of Jackson Page standing in my kitchen drinking coffee.
It had been over a month since the first night we’d had sex, and Jackson hadn’t slept at his own house once. He’d settled into my tiny loft apartment so quickly it was hard to remember what it had been like here without him.
“Want to get out the syrup and butter?” I asked. “These are about done.”
“You bet.” He took his coffee into the living room along with our supplies and put it all down next to the plates I’d already set out.