Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)

Maybe she’s hasn’t worked her way through this particular fucking scenario, and it’s throwing her off her game.

She shakes her head as she backs up again. “I’m not backing away from you.”

Maybe I don’t give a fuck either way.

“Then what do you call it?”

She’s at the hallway now. She turns her head slightly, then smiles when she meets my eyes again. “Leading.”

When her back hits the wall, I close the gap between us.

She seems nervous but in a good way.

We’re close. I can smell her shampoo of the day. I can’t say I know the scent off the top of my fucking head or anything, but it’s inviting. It’s making me wanna do things to her I haven’t done in a long damn time.

“You teasing me, Green?”

A slight shake of her head is all she gives me.

I slide a hand around the base of her neck.

“You?” Like she’s really gotta ask me.

“No such luck,” I tell her. “And Connor?”

“What about him?”

“You sure there isn’t some lingering doubt about cutting the poor guy loose?”

She doesn’t hesitate when she tells me, “Definitely not.”

“You aren’t gonna change your mind about that?” It’s been known to happen.

Green looks me straight in the eyes when she shakes her head. “Nope.”

I’m not an idiot, despite what a lot of people think. I know I’m gambling here. Typically, I like better odds, but quite frankly, I’m fucking tired of second guessing this woman.

At some point, I’ve gotta go with my gut.

And my gut tells me it’s time to let shit happen.

So with that, all the adrenaline, anger, and confusion from tonight is gone. Instead of entertaining the idea that this is a bad idea, I forgo the formalities and dip into a kiss that says I believe her.

We’ve kissed. It’s not like it’s rocket science or anything, but this isn’t curiosity or me being “interested” because she’s new and a mystery or a damn she’s sexy kinda thing.

It’s all or nothing. Everything’s out there. No hidden agendas or conspiracy theories. No Walker lurking, or Anonymous. No boy-toys or family bullshit. This is up close and personal with all the suspicions and questions and pent-up frustration coming through in one fell swoop.

She arches, pressing herself up against me in just the right way. It throws my libido into overdrive.

My fingers drift from her neck to her shirt, and I do her the honors of unbuttoning the damn thing. She lets it fall to the floor when I push the sleeves over her shoulders, and when she moves to work on my jeans, I grab her wrists.

I smile as I press her hands against the wall. I slide them up above her head. I clasp them together, pinning them there with my right hand, while the left drinks in her skin.

“Last chance,” I warn her, but she doesn’t squirm an inch.

“I’m good.”

I might smirk. I’m not sure, to be honest. Then a thought hits me that Nick’s been driving into my head since I hit puberty.

“We gonna need a condom?”

“No.” She bites the corner of her lip. “I’m good there, too.”

“Birth control?” I try to clarify.

“IUD,” she corrects me, and I lift an eyebrow.

“I had a boyfriend.”

Had being the operative word there.

“Indeed.”

Goosebumps trail every kiss I place against her shoulder.

I’m becoming a huge fan of the fact that I have this effect on her, along with the blushing—not gonna lie. The blushing is fucking phenomenal.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Green,” I tell her in between kisses along her neckline.

“What?” She tilts her head to the side for me. I find her ear and put my lips there.

“I’m still pissed at you,” I whisper it into her ear while I find the snap to her jeans.

She takes in a deep breath.

“Why?” She seems unconcerned.

I unzip them, and I whisper into her ear, “You lied to me.”

I have to release her hands to work them around her hips.

She helps.

“Not lied,” she says. “So much as…” Her voice is shaky. Just the way I like it. “Left a few things out of our conversations.”

I manage to work the jeans and the silk fucking underwear down to her ankles. She kicks them off the rest of the way.

Thank God, she’s cooperating.

“Do me a fucking favor,” I tell her. My hand grazes her stomach before I reach behind her and unclip the bra.

Last to go.

She starts on my jeans again, and she’s fast about that shit.

“What’s that?”

She starts to work on getting them off me, but I take over, and once they’re gone, so’s the shirt.

“Don’t leave anything out any more.”

Green allows herself to look down in a moment of weakness. When her eyes meet mine again, she gives me a short nod with a slight grin.

“Promise.”

It’s all I need to fucking hear.

I nudge her legs apart, and she obliges.

I follow some deep-seated instincts—maybe dreams—by sliding a hand down between them.

Jo Richardson's books