For a second, he looks offended. “What’s that supposed to mean, Snowflake?”
I shrug. “I dunno, you just seem like the kind of guy that likes chocolate over… sour stuff? I think you can tell a lot about a person by the kind of candy they like.”
His chuckle shakes the bed beneath us as I lean up and pull my T-shirt over my legs, sitting crisscross.
“You’re not the kinda girl I could imagine sharing vending machine food with in a tacky honeymoon suite, but there’s a first time for everything, huh?”
I glance around again, my nose scrunching slightly at the red carpet and matching curtains before I look back at Jackson, who’s watching me with an amused smile on his face. “I mean, it’s not really that bad. It could definitely be worse. Maybe it’s even growing on me a little bit.”
Not at all, but he doesn’t have to know that.
With a cheeky smirk, I swipe the chocolate bar out of his hand as he’s bringing it to his mouth and take a bite.
“All of this candy here, and you want what I’ve got, Emmie?” he teases.
“Sorry, but yours is better. I meant to ask you… how did your parents take the news? Finding out about the party?”
He shrugs. “They weren’t overjoyed with the fact, but honestly? What else can we do? We’re all stuck in the situation and having to try and make the best of it.”
I nod. “I wish my parents felt that way. I mean, I feel like the disappointment of a century, but what’s new, right?”
Jackson’s brow furrows, and he takes the candy bar back from me, taking a bite, then mumbles around the mouthful, “Why would you be a disappointment to them?”
“I don’t know. I just… I constantly feel like I’m always falling short. My parents just have really high expectations for how I should act, and what I should wear, and how I should behave, and sometimes it just feels so heavy. Moments like the other day with my mom. Sorry, you probably don’t care about any of that.” I huff a laugh and drag my gaze off his.
It feels weird, yet oddly cathartic, to admit that out loud to Jackson.
Then, I feel his fingers on my chin, turning my eyes back to his. “I do care, Emma. You’re not a disappointment to anyone, and if your parents think that, then they’re blind. You’re beautiful, smart, and ambitious.”
I can feel my cheeks heat under his praise, and I swallow down the emotion that’s bundled tightly in my throat. “Thank you. That was sweet of you to say.”
“Just the truth.” His voice drops an octave as his eyes roam the expanse of my legs that have come out of the T-shirt.
God, how is it possible that I somehow feel the heat of his gaze on me? Like he’s reached out and ghosted his fingers along the places his eyes have roamed.
It’s impossible, yet I can feel my skin heating without a single touch.
“Jackson…” I warn.
“Emmie.”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
His brow arches, feigning innocence as he sets down the candy. “And how am I looking at you?”
He knows exactly the way he’s looking at me.
In a way he shouldn’t be looking at me because we said one night, and we said we’d never speak of it again.
Even if… it seems like neither of us truly wants that.
“Like you want to touch me.”
Leaning closer, he whispers, “How do I want to touch you, Snowflake?”
God, just the deep, gravelly baritone of his voice makes my clit throb. The power he has over me should be concerning, but the man makes me crazy, out of my mind horny for him.
“We can’t do this, Jackson. Things are already so complicated… The party…” I swallow, my heart speeding up in my chest as his fingers dance along the hem of my faded T-shirt, brushing against my skin and making me shiver. “Our parents… our families’ history. This is a distraction we can’t afford. I mean, we don’t even like each other.”
He chuckles humorously. “Yeah, well, I think I like you more than I should. I can’t stop fucking thinking about you. Don’t you think it would be easier if I didn’t see your perfect little pussy every time I close my eyes? If I could stop remembering for a single second how you came on my cock or the way you fit me so goddamn tight, like you were made for me?” With that, he scoots closer, and before I know it, I’m on my back, and he’s fitted his hips between my thighs, hovering over me as he continues. “My life would be a hell of a lot easier if I hadn’t started to realize that maybe I have a thing for this sassy, overly organized, takes no shit and gives it back twofold girl.”
I blink, fisting my hands into the sheets so I don’t do something stupid like touch him. “That sounds a lot like me.”
Laughing, he leans down and drags his nose along my jaw, causing my breath to hitch. “Yeah. That’s exactly who you are, Snowflake, and I think I fucking like it. I like it a lot.”
This would be the time to stop. To sit up, get my thoughts straight, and tell him that we’re done… doing whatever it is we’re doing.
Except when his hand slides underneath the fabric of my shirt and his fingers ghost along the hem of my panties, I know that there is no way that is happening.
There’s not a chance in Santa’s freakin’ winter wonderland that I am telling this man no. Not when he lights me on fire like this.
This… pull between us is just too strong. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as badly as I want Jackson Pearce.
Not the man I knew as my nemesis.
But the man I’m beginning to realize has more to him than I ever imagined.
As if reading my mind, he rasps, “Let’s worry about the rest later. Right now, all I want to do is taste you, Emma.” Lifting my shirt, he holds my eyes intently. “I want to feel you come on my cock again. I want to spend the rest of the night forgetting the world until it’s just you and I.”
I nod, helping him pull the baggy T-shirt over my head and discard it, leaving me in nothing but lace.
“You and these fucking panties. Pink and frilly, just like you.” His words are a grunt as he tears them from my body with a swift pull, much like the last time.
I’m beginning to think this man has a fetish for ripping my panties.
He licks his lips, then bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes roam my body, sending a bolt of arousal through me. Why is that so hot?
The man is looking at me like I’m his next meal.
“I’m committing this to memory, Snowflake. Every single inch of you.” His slow perusal stops in between my thighs, and his hands slide up, parting them so he gets a full view of my pussy.
I already know I’m wet and throbbing just by the way his gaze makes me ache.
Reaching behind his neck, he quickly pulls his shirt off and throws it to the side.
My mouth waters at the sight of his broad chest, chiseled abs, the delicious dips of his Adonis belt. The man looks like he stepped right out of a magazine, not from a construction site.
I drag my eyes down every sharp line of his muscles, stopping at the trail of hair leading below his waistband.
“Now, who’s looking at who?” He grins, unbuckling his belt and flicking his jeans open with one hand. He pulls the belt free with one powerful tug.