you choose to confront it every day. You push your boundaries, whether it’s on a surfboard or letting me drag you to a barbecue. You have loyal friends, which means you’re pretty damn loyal yourself, and when death came flying at you in the form of the weathervane that time forgot, your first instinct was to protect my daughter, which is enough to make me fall at your feet without the fact that you’re the most exquisite woman I’ve ever laid eyes on—which you are.” He lifted that eyebrow in challenge again.
My lips parted, and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered so fast the friction warmed me from the inside out, even as they threatened to turn to flame and catch my body on fire. He actually wanted me. He saw the mess and wanted me anyway, somehow finding beauty in everything I called wreckage. Damn it, I didn’t want it to be wreckage anymore. I wanted to be whole again. I wanted to have something to offer this man who took me hiking in the moonlight and pulled me away from my own shadows with his light.
My breath abandoned me as the realization hit—he made me want to live, not just survive and hope for the best. He’d reignited that spark within me from the moment I’d felt that flare of attraction on the beach and the care he’d taken when rescuing me from my own staircase. That spark grew every time he made me laugh, or smile, or roll my eyes. It thrived when I made plans with him, finally willing to look forward in my life. I might have been doing the work in therapy, but there was no denying that Sam was right—Jackson had become my reward for learning to live again.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He raked his hand over his hair. “You’re gorgeous, and that’s not even close to being the best part about you. Every time you let me in to that head of yours, I feel like the luckiest asshole on the planet, and there’s nothing I’ve found that would make me want you any less. God, everything about you pulls me in closer without even trying. Like I said—I can own that. And sure, the way I feel about you scares the shit out of me, but that’s what tells me it’s real. So yeah, I’ll respect your lack of feelings because I feel way too much, but please don’t tell me that I can’t want you, because I do. And I’m sure of this enough to wait until you’re in a place to see just how amazing you—”
I stopped his words with my lips.
Chapter Eleven
Jackson
One second I was laying into the woman about how incredible she was, and the next, she was pressed against me with her mouth on mine.
I lost a heartbeat or two in shock, but I got with the program in the next breath, wrapping an arm around her waist and cradling the nape of her neck with the other.
“Morgan?” I whispered against her lips in question.
“Kiss me, Jackson,” she demanded, looping her arms around my neck.
The words struck me like a match to a pile of kindling—the flame instant and consuming. I locked down the need pounding through my veins and kissed her gently, savoring her quick intake of breath and the way she rose against me for more. I was not going to fuck this up by moving too fast. I’d keep up these light, sipping kisses all night if that kept her in my arms. Sound plan. Take it slow.
She swept her tongue over my lower lip, then gently tugged it between her teeth.
Fuck the plan.
I kissed her deep, sinking my tongue between her parted lips with a groan I couldn’t contain. She tasted sweeter than I could have imagined, citrus with a hint of vanilla on her lips. Her arms tightened around me, and I tilted her head slightly so I could sink into her mouth over and over, learning every curve and line as her tongue rubbed and swirled around mine. More. I wanted more.
I wanted to kiss her until neither of us could remember any kiss that came before this one. My fingers flexed at her waist, holding her tight as our mouths moved together like we’d been kissing for years, not minutes. She fit perfectly against me, soft and curved everywhere I wasn’t. My hand slid into her hair as the back of her dress whipped at my arm