Single Wolf Female

Chapter Seven

When breakfast was over, the kids scattered to unpack their things and return their rooms to normal. Holly, always the thoughtful one, offered to help Dan set up his room. Trina naturally wanted to help as well, and tagged along. Before I knew it, they were all hanging out in Dan’s new room, pointing out how he should arrange furniture and asking him what sports he liked, what TV shows he and Jackson watched.

They seemed to be settling in okay. “Jackson and I are going to run and visit the rent houses. You have my number if anything comes up, right?”

They nodded. Holly smiled gently at me. Trina texted into her phone, ignoring me. Heck, things were almost back to normal.

“Okay then,” I said, and left them upstairs. I headed back down to where Jackson was hanging out in the living room. He seemed to realize that hovering would only make everyone more anxious, so had split off from the group once he’d finished eating. I headed in to the living room and his gaze immediately went to me, though he didn’t get up off the sofa. “I want you to come on a business call with me.”

“Sure thing,” he said, voice easy.

“Unless you have somewhere you need to be?”

“No plumbing calls at the minute,” he told me. His gaze didn’t leave my face, though. “Business is slow when you’re new to an area. I imagine that’ll change soon enough.”

Thinking about the future made me all flustered again, especially when he was looking at me like that.

We got into my truck, since I insisted on driving. Jackson was fine with that - again, not something I was used to. Cash would always fight me on this sort of thing, because he liked to be in charge of everything. Just one more way that Jackson was different than the alphas I was used to.

Of course he’s different, I chided myself. The others were your family. This one’s your mate.

The thought of having a mate freaked me out a little. I cast another nervous look his direction, my hands tight on the steering wheel as I turned the truck onto the local farm road.

My phone rang, and I fumbled for it, grateful for the interruption in my thoughts. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Alice?”

I frowned at the female voice. I hadn’t looked at the number before I answered, my concentration on the road. I noticed Jackson’s posture had changed. He was listening; werewolf ears were so keen that we could pick up phone conversations from several feet away. Likely he was just being protective, knowing I’d been harassed lately. It still bugged me. “Who’s this?” I asked, my voice brusque.

“Oh, this is Bathsheba Ward-Russell, from Midnight Liaisons. I thought I’d call and see how things were going. I noticed your profile was updated and attached to Jackson Wilder’s. Have you guys made a match?”

My mouth worked silently as I tried to process this. I hadn’t updated my profile? A quick glance over at Jackson and he raised his eyebrows at me, as if challenging me to answer her. “Match?” I asked, the nervous squeak in my voice again.

“Tell her we’ve mated,” Jackson said in a low voice, not wanting to interrupt my conversation. Despite the soothing tone of his voice, I still felt that irresistible urge to please my alpha. It was not a comforting feeling. Jackson was an alpha with a strong personality, despite his charming demeanor. Whatever he wanted, he could get, just by a smile and a softly worded command.

“Um. Profile. Yes. I updated it,” I lied. “Jackson and I have combined our packs.”

“Mated,” Jackson corrected again, off to my side.

I ignored him. “So yeah, I won’t be needing your services anymore.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Bathsheba said, her voice happy. She was oblivious to the tension on the other side of the phone. “Then that brings me to my other reason for calling. My husband Beau wanted me to invite you two out to dinner to discuss the possibility of the Savage pack - though I guess it’s the Savage-Wilder pack now - joining the Alliance?”

“I don’t think—“ I began.

“We’d love to go,” Jackson told me, his voice firmer and louder. “Tell her that.”

I cast him an irritated look. “Would you shut up for two seconds?”

“I’m sorry?” Bathsheba said, confused.

“Not you,” I told her quickly, glaring at Jackson and trying to drive at the same time. “I have a backseat driver that won’t be quiet.”

He simply grinned at me, amused by my surly attitude. “Just tell her we’ll go to dinner and I’ll be quiet.”

I didn’t want to go to dinner. Not with the Alliance, who were a bunch of busybodies that stuck their noses in where they didn’t belong. My pack didn’t need the Alliance. That was for shifters that didn’t have pack support. We had everything we needed now that Jackson had arrived to lead us.

Except my new leader? Had some ideas I wasn’t keen on. I glared at him again, and found him giving me a challenging stare. An alpha stare. I continued to glare at him, not willing to break gaze. The first one to look away would lose the challenge.

“You’re about to run over that mailbox,” Jackson murmured at me, eyes still locked with mine.

Shit. I broke gaze, righted the truck on the road, and gritted my teeth. “We’d love to go to dinner.”

“Perfect,” Bath said happily.

We made plans for over the weekend. A double date (god) over dinner. When the conversation ended, I clicked off my phone and tossed it into my purse, glaring at Jackson out of the corner of my eye.

“Challenging me while I’m driving is totally not playing fair.”

“The Alliance would be good for the pack,” he said.

“I disagree.”

“And that’s why I had to challenge.”

“Yeah, but while I’m driving? Not cool.”

“I guess I could have used other methods of persuasion,” he said in a husky voice. “Would you prefer those next time?”

A ripple of awareness ripped through me, and I remembered his mouth on my neck, licking my skin. I sucked in a breath, my nipples going hard. “A challenge is fine,” I said flatly.

He laughed.

A few minutes later, we pulled into a tiny suburb sprawl in the midst of nowhere. Jackson gave me a curious look when we took a right on Alice Lane. “Is that a coincidence?”

“Nope,” I told him. “I own all these houses.”

He looked impressed, staring out the window at the small ranch-style houses, neatly lined up on acre plots. “How many are there?”

“Fifty-six,” I told him. “I wasn’t joking when I said I was a slum lord.”

He chuckled. “These aren’t slums to me. They’re nice houses.”

They were. I was proud of them. “My dad was a builder,” I told him. “Worked for other people for the first twenty years or so, and then came into some money when his father died, and left him a couple hundred acres out in the country. My father decided that he’d do something with that land and that money, and built a bunch of houses so he could rent them out to people that needed housing but couldn’t really afford it.”

“Your dad sounds like a great guy,” he murmured, still looking out the window.

“He was,” I said, my throat getting tight as I thought about my father. Gone five years now, still missed him every day. I swallowed and cleared my throat. “We could probably get a grand a month for each of these houses, but we only charge three hundred. Everyone that lives here needs some sort of assistance. We have a lot of single mothers, elderly, disabled, you name it. Lots of shifters, too,” I said, glancing over at him. “Gotta look out for our own people.”

“Of course.”

“Anyhow, our pack does fine with what we bring in a month. Fifty-six houses at three hundred a month is still a good living, and we’re helping people out. I can’t bring myself to do it.”

I’d argued with Cash about it time and time again, too, because he didn’t have the same generous spirit that Dad had. I got a vague pang of worry about Jackson. What if he thought the same way that Cash did? That fifty-two grand a month instead of fifteen was worth putting the squeeze on our poor residents?

But he only looked over at me. “You got any plumbing issues? I’m more than happy to help out.”

And that was why I was starting to think that maybe this could work, despite our issues. “All the time,” I admitted with a smile. “Summer tends to be heavy on electricity issues, though. Air conditioners going on the fritz and such. I do a lot of quick maintenance on them, but I have to call someone out every now and then.”

He grinned at me as we pulled into a driveway. “I’m starting to learn that you’re a rather self-sufficient woman.”

His praise made me feel warm inside. I couldn’t help but watch him as I introduced him to my tenant and we stepped inside the already-warm house. I tinkered with the AC, checking the p-trap and resetting the breakers while Jackson chatted with Eliza and even held her baby while she pointed out issues with the toilets running and making their water bill climb.

Luckily, the AC fix was an easy one, and I had it blowing cool air again within an hour. Jackson fixed her toilets, a leak in the kitchen sink, and by the time we left, had completely charmed Eliza. I drove him out to another house that I knew had leaky faucets, and we got those fixed as well. With fifty-six houses to maintain, I pretty much ran out to visit at least one a day. That was my job - making sure everyone was taken care of and collecting rent. Once we were done, though, I drove around the small suburb since Jackson seemed interested, and gave him a tour of Alice Lane as well as Cash Drive, June Court (my mother’s name) and Donald Way (my father’s name). We unofficially called them the Savage Estates, and even though it was just a bunch of ranch houses out in the boonies, I was proud of them and what they represented. Jackson seemed pleased at them, too. I then gave him a tour of the rest of Savage property, since my big Victorian was situated on a couple hundred acres in the other direction. They’d been seeded with a lot of fast growing trees and barb-wire fenced some time ago so we’d have a safe place to run and play and be wolves without fear of getting shot by hunters. It was a rarity in this day and age, and I loved the freedom we had.

The Savage pack was self-sufficient. We didn’t need anyone. We especially didn’t need the Alliance.

And part of me kind of hated that we needed Jackson. The fact that he made me feel all weird and fluttery inside? Felt a bit like betrayal. Like being attracted to him meant I was somehow doing a disservice to my pack history.

~~ * ~~

The day was a long, long one.

By the time we’d finished running around the Savage Estates and touring our property, we came home and ordered pizza. I found that the rest of the pack seemed to be getting along great, with the exception of Len, who had returned but was still sulky. We all hung out in the living room and watched movies together, eating pizza and popcorn and chattering through the movie.

Holly held the baby, and I noticed that Dan sat next to her on the loveseat, though he was stiff and awkward.

I knew how he felt. I’d sat on the sofa and Jackson had promptly sat right next to me, draping his arm over my shoulders in a possessive move that Len hadn’t missed. I knew it was for show. Jackson had to push his role as alpha and my mate onto the others. Once they accepted it, they’d relax and settle in and things would smooth out. Len would step back into his role as beta and be fine with Jackson.

It was just me that was skittish. Me that had a hard time relaxing when Jackson’s arm lay over my shoulders or played with my hair. And when I yawned through the second movie and Jackson suggested that we head to bed? I was pretty sure that everyone scented my nervousness, even though no one commented on it.

We headed up to my room after saying our goodnights to the others. Our Victorian was split, bedroom-wise, and the alphas had rooms opposite from the rest of the pack. Our rooms were bigger than the others, and the room that Cash had shared with Joanne was currently empty. Jackson could always take that one once his dominance was firmly established.

But for now? While we were still establishing pack hierarchy? He’d be bunking with me.

And that made me nervous and on edge.

His hand was on my back as we entered my room. My bed was a full size and stood in the center of the room. I stared at it as I entered, painfully aware of just how small it would be with two normal-sized people in it. I turned and shut the door, trying to think. There was a chair in my room, but I was aware that Jackson hadn’t slept much last night. Putting him back in the uncomfortable chair would be unfair to him, and I needed him strong.

But I still hesitated.

“I can sleep in the chair,” he said, as if sensing my thoughts.

“No,” I told him. “It’s cool. We can share the bed. We’re supposed to be mated, anyhow.”

“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Oh yeah,” I said, making sure my voice was as casual as I could make it. “No problem.”

“All right, then.” He moved into the room and began to strip off his shirt. “You want the right side or the left side?”

“Left.” We were so normal about all of this. Like it was nothing. I glanced over at him from under my lashes and noticed his broad bare chest. He was unbuckling his belt and sliding down his jeans, and I caught sight of a pair of checkered boxers before I turned away again.

I needed to change, too. I could just strip down my clothing. Nudity wasn’t anything for shifters, especially werewolves, since you tore off your clothing before a change so you didn’t ruin it. I’d seen everyone in my small pack more naked than most people saw their spouses. But this was different. This was me, getting undressed to climb into bed with my mate.

But I couldn’t leave the room to change. What if the others noticed? Plus, I needed to get used to seeing Jackson naked - the full moon was tomorrow night and that meant a pack run. If I acted all maidenly around him then, it’d make things worse. Sucking in a deep breath, I turned my back to him, pulled my shirt over my head, and began to change out of my clothing.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, staring at the wall as I methodically undressed and changed into my sleep t-shirt. If he watched me, I didn’t notice. I concentrated on undressing and then tossing my clothes in the hamper. When I turned around, Jackson was already in bed - right side - and fluffing one of my pillows. I sucked in a deep breath, turned off the light, and climbed into bed next to him.

My bed was small. Way freaking small. Even when I turned on my side, I could feel Jackson’s skin against mine, his arm against my arm. I turned on my side, but then it meant that my ass brushed up against his arm. Didn’t want that. Of course, if I flipped around, my breasts would be rubbing up against him and my face would be inches away from him. Didn’t want that, either. I laid on my back again, staring up at the ceiling.

“Do you wanna talk, Alice?”

Jackson’s voice was ultra low, so low that I could barely hear it over the distant roar of another movie downstairs, and the low hum of conversation. He was deliberately trying to keep our conversation quiet, so the others wouldn’t pick up that we were talking. I looked over at him in bed, and as I did, he turned on his side, facing me. His scent overwhelmed my nostrils.

God, he smelled good. God, I was so nervous.

“Talk?” I whispered. “About what?”

“Me and you. You’re scared of me. I can smell it.”

So humiliating. “I am not.”

“You’re also lying in this bed, stiff as a board.”

I said nothing.

He rubbed his neck, then sighed. “Hell, Alice, you’re making me feel like a damn rapist.”

That only made me go stiffer. “Sorry.”

“Look, have I made you uncomfortable somehow? Done something to freak you out?”

I shook my head, feeling a little guilty. “It’s not you. It’s me. Everyone’s going to be expecting, you know. You and me. And I’m…”

“A virgin. I remember.” He sighed. “Trust me, I remember.” To my surprise, he reached out and brushed a lock of hair off my forehead. It was a possessive, yet weirdly comforting gesture. “And they’re not expecting you and me to marry. They just want pack life to get back to normal. They’re desperate for it and looking to us for cues.”

I was desperate for it, too. But I couldn’t say that.

“Thing is,” Jackson said, then paused. “You jump every time I touch you. You’re stiff with dread every time my arm brushes yours. And that’s just going to keep dividing lines.”

Stiff…with dread? “I’m not stiff with dread,” I pointed out. “I’m just…a virgin. This is a lot for me to take in, you know.”

“I know.” His voice was achingly soft. “You ever been kissed?”

I could feel my face heating up in the dark. “Once. When I was twelve. Then Cash beat the hell out of him for touching his sister.”

Jackson chuckled. “Cash sounds like a good brother.”

He was an overprotective, arrogant ass. He was a risk-taker, quick to argue, hard-headed, stubborn, and unbending. And I desperately, desperately missed him. “He was the best,” I said, my voice hoarse with tears.

Warm arms wrapped around me, and I found my face being pressed against warm male chest. “I’m sorry, Alice. I know this is hard on you. You haven’t even had a chance to grieve. Not properly. You’re too busy trying to hold shit together.”

Hot tears poured from my eyes. To hear someone verbalize exactly how I felt? Lost, alone, and so miserable? It felt good - and awful - at the same time. I buried my face against his chest and tried to muffle my sniffles even as I continued to cry. I couldn’t weep for my lost brother in front of the pack. I had to be strong. But here? In a stranger’s arms? I was going to be allowed to grieve.

Jackson continued to stroke my hair and my back while I cried quietly, simply holding me and comforting me. Eventually, my tears died away. I remained in his arms, though, comforted by his gentle touches and caresses.

“Is my touch bothering you?” he asked, his voice low and husky against my ear. “Do you want me to stop?”

Just the feel of his breath against my skin made me shiver. But…I didn’t want him to stop. I was warm, and comforted, and for the first time in weeks, I felt safe. “I…no. I like your touch.”

And then I felt a blush crawl up my cheeks for saying that.

“Good. I like touching you, too.”

My body prickled with awareness, and I became extremely aware of how I was pressed against him. My breasts - loose under my sleep shirt - were pressed to his chest, and one of my knees was between his. “Well,” I said shyly. “This is one way to get used to each other.”

“It is,” he agreed, and there was a hint of amusement in his voice. I couldn’t see his face, though, since I was pressed against his chest, but I could picture the smile on his mouth. “You know…you’re welcome to explore me, if you like.”

“Explore?”

“Yeah. Your virginity? It can stay as long as you want. You take the lead. But…if you want to explore me without fear, get to know a man, you can. I’m willing.”

I sat up, frowning down at him in the bed. His face was utterly serious - and utterly gorgeous - in the low moonlight trickling in through the blinds. “Is that a pick-up line?”

“Not at all. But you and I are mates.” His fingers reached up to brush against the bite mark on my neck. “For the good of both of our packs. So I figure this relationship can be as chaste - or not - as you want it to be. I know what I want, but I’m willing to let you lead.”

Anxiety - and anticipation - fluttered through me. “And…what is it you want?”

He just gave me a sleepy-eyed look, full of desire. “You could touch me and see exactly what I want.”

I sucked in a breath, my mind filling with images. Me, leaning over the bed, pulling down the blankets, and exposing Jackson - all of Jackson - to my gaze. Leisurely touching him however I wanted. Seeing how he liked it.

The thought was incredibly appealing.

“Go on,” he murmured, pulling the blankets down and exposing his chest to me. “I won’t touch you, Alice. Not unless you ask me to.”

Hesitant, I sat back on my knees and regarded him. I placed my palm against his chest, right over his heart. The heavy thump thump in his chest sped up a little at my touch. He felt warm, too, his skin soft. His chest was tanned, though I could see tan-lines on his body - darker mid-bicep and around his collar. A redneck tan, Trina would laugh. But looking at this gorgeous man in my bed? It wasn’t amusing so much as it was fascinating. He had a sprinkle of chest hair across his pectorals, too, and it narrowed to a trail that led down his belly and disappeared into the waistband of his boxers. I pulled the blankets down, unable to stop myself from looking…and stopped.

His boxers were tented, his arousal evident.

My startled gaze flew back to him, but he hadn’t moved. He was still watching me with that predatory gaze, his eyes gleaming with wolf. He was…aroused at my touch? At the thought of me exploring him?

I felt my own arousal rise through me, speeding my pulse even faster. I knew he only wanted me because I came with the pack, but it was hard not to be attracted to him. Jackson was gorgeous to look at, and utterly masculine. And despite that outward serenity? He was all alpha, and it called to me and sang in my blood. Likewise, he probably felt a pull to me because I was a female alpha, but I wasn’t a beauty. My nose was short, my chin stubborn and square, and I didn’t do anything with my hair other than wash it. I’d lost weight in the past few weeks because of stress, so I probably looked all hollow and lost.

I hesitated, then brushed my hand down his thigh. It was lightly sprinkled with hair, and strong. I felt his muscles twitch as I touched him, and he groaned, shifting in the bed. I could have sworn his boxers moved a little, too. That was fascinating.

But I wasn’t ready to touch him there, yet. So I ran my fingers back up his leg and then across his stomach, feeling the hard muscles there. He was trim, not an ounce of fat on him. His biceps were corded with muscle, and all of him was gorgeous. He was built like a statue, except warm and flexing under my touch.

My fingertips skimmed one nipple, and I glanced at his face to see his reaction.

He gave another low groan, his gaze on my face.

I could feel my own breathing becoming rapid, my nipples tight. The scent of my arousal began to hang in the air, along with a thickening musky smell that I’d come to associate with Jackson.

I ran my fingers along the taut nipple again, curious. “Do men like to be touched here?”

“Not as much as they like to be touched in other places,” he admitted, his voice tight.

“Oh,” I said, fascinated by his reactions. And I wanted more of them. Wanted to see what else I could do to him. So I went back to touching him, my hand stroking down the firm wall of his chest. Did I dare to continue exploring?

“You can stop if you want,” he told me, again in that curiously tight voice. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

But I was having fun. And I’d never explored a man’s body before. I wanted to continue, so I just shook my head and slipped my hand into his boxers.

His skin was scorching hot. Immediately, my fingers brushed against the hard length of his cock, and something wet.

Jackson’s breath hissed out of him, and then his hands were pushing past mine to tug at his boxers. “Take these off.”

I retreated, watching as he slid the boxers down his legs and kicked them to the ground, and then he was naked and laying before me.

And oh mercy, he was utterly gorgeous. Shifters tended to have appealing bodies anyhow. We were naturally athletic as a race, and our metabolisms allowed us to eat like monsters. But some people were just flat out mouth-watering, and Jackson was clearly one of them. He had a tan-line right above his groin, and below that, his skin was pale white. The dark trail of hair seemed bold against his skin, leading to the curls surrounding his cock and balls. And, well, he was lucky enough to be extremely well-equipped. His cock was long and smooth, the head glistening with pre-cum. His balls were tight round globes underneath, and I was curious to see what they’d feel like.

I glanced up at Jackson.

He nodded at me, that heavy-lidded gaze watching my every move. His hands still lay to his sides, but I noticed they were curled into fists, now. So he wouldn’t reach for me and spoil my fun?

I hesitated a moment longer, and then my wolf curiosity got the best of me. My fingers stroked through the curls of his sex, and I brushed them against his sac. The skin there was softer than I’d imagined, yet delicate. Fascinated, I trailed my fingertips upward, tracing a large vein that ran along the underside of his cock.

His breathing became rapid. “That feels good, Alice. I like your touch. Your hands are soft.”

“Softer than yours,” I said, surprised at my teasing as I wrapped my fingers around his length, testing the girth of him. Thicker than I’d imagined, too.

“Feels better on my cock than all these calluses,” he told me, spreading a hand out so I could see.

As he did, I wondered how those calluses would feel against my skin. I shivered at the thought, my nipples pricking again, and I shifted in place, feeling deliciously slick between my legs. “Have you had many lovers?” I couldn’t help but ask. I had to know.

“Not many,” he admitted. “Don’t like to get involved without some sort of commitment.”

I understood that. It was exactly why I was a virgin still: pack came first in all aspects. I studied my hand on his cock and wondered if I was brave enough to take him into my mouth and taste him. Maybe not yet, though I was curious what his flavor would be like on my tongue. Instead, I gave his cock an awkward stroke, then frowned when my fingers dragged on his skin and he winced.

“Am I doing this wrong?”

“Depends on what it is you’re wanting to do.”

My cheeks felt scorching hot. “I thought I’d…um…”

“Hand job?” he murmured, his hand moving to my thigh and stroking it in a comforting fashion. Not sexual, just petting me, letting me know everything was okay.

I nodded.

“Those are tricky without lube of some kind. You could spit on your hand.” At my screwed up face of disgust, he chuckled. “Or not. How about lotion?”

“I have lotion,” I said breathlessly, and leaned over to my nightstand, grabbing the tube of lotion I kept for winter nights, when my legs were dry. As I sat back down, I noticed his gaze had slid to my ass and he’d been watching me move. That made me feel all hot and achy inside, in a pleasant way.

I held out the tube to him, settling back down to my place at his side.

He shook his head, hot gaze on me, that thumb still lightly stroking my thigh. “You do it. Put some on your palms and rub them together to heat it up.”

I hesitated. “What if I do something wrong?”

“You won’t,” he said, and gave me that lazy smile that made my heart flip-flop in my chest.

I squirted an enormous amount of lotion onto my hands and tossed the tube aside, then rubbed them together until they were slick. Then I looked over at his face, judging to see his reaction. When he nodded again, I laid my hands on his cock and encircled it, then pumped.

“Ah, fuck,” he bit out.

I flinched, my hands flying away. “What?”

“No, no,” he said quickly, his hand going back to my thigh and patting it. “You’re doing good, Alice. It just felt…really damn good. Startled me with how good.”

“Oh.” I studied his face a moment longer, then encircled his cock with my slippery fingers again, stroking the hard length of him up and down. I repeated the motion slowly, once or twice, then looked to him for guidance.

“Tighten your fingers like a circle,” he told me, and strain was evident on his face. “Stroke hard and fast. I like it that way.”

I focused on him again, my gaze sliding back to his cock. The head was beaded with even more pre-cum, and as I watched, a drop dribbled down one side of the crown. I wanted to lick him - but at this point, I’d get a mouthful of lotion. So I just gripped my fingers around him and squirmed hard at the low groan he gave in response, my sex wet with my own need. God, who knew that jerking a guy off would be so hot?

He made a low growl in his throat that I found incredibly erotic, and I began to stroke again, my slippery fingers gliding over him. I tightened my grip, moving harder and faster against his hot skin, and his hand began to clench my thigh, hard, which only excited me and made me apply more pressure.

Then, suddenly, his big hand covered one of mine and he began to guide my stroking, tightening my hand against him and guiding me harder and faster. Then, with a heavy exhale of breath, he came. Semen spurted onto his stomach and my hands, and I watched, fascinated, as he continued to use my grip to milk his orgasm. His eyes were tightly shut, his face contorted with pleasure.

A few moments later, he slowed and then released my hand. His eyes opened and he gave me the warmest, most sheepish smile I’d ever seen on him. “And here I promised not to grab you.”

“It’s okay,” I said breathlessly, my hands still covered with his come and lotion. I wanted to do more. Keep touching him. Something. I felt satisfied that I’d made him come so hard, but curiously malcontent. And overheated.

As I stared at him, Jackson reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his boxers, then swabbed my hands with them. When they were wiped mostly clean, I retreated to the adjoining bathroom and washed my hands, then crawled back into bed.

To my disappointment, he’d produced a new set of boxers and had put them on. He joined me in the bed a moment later, and I didn’t flinch when his skin rubbed against mine this time. Now he felt warm and wonderful against me, and I relaxed when he put a hand around my waist, drawing me against him.

His lips brushed my cheekbone in the barest kiss. “Night, Alice.”

“Night,” I murmured to him, staring at the wall. I wanted him to roll me over and touch me. I wanted to touch him more. I wanted him to give me a real kiss, not the peck on the cheek.

But I didn’t know how to ask for any of it. So I closed my eyes and went to sleep, his big, delicious body pressed against mine.