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Liv’s hands slipped beneath his shirt. Her fingers skated across his well-honed muscles, teasing his nipples. He groaned as he stripped off his remaining clothing.
She smiled and pressed him backwards toward the bed. His knees hit the mattress, and she pressed him backwards onto the pillows. She crawled over him until her breasts hung over his chest.
He did his best to concentrate, reaching into his bedside table for a condom while suckling one breast, then the other. His hands skimmed her belly and against her mound. She mewed as he slipped his fingers between her soaked folds.
“Jackson,” her voice turned lusty.
Liv took the condom, tore the wrapper and rolled it down his length. With a sly smile, she centered herself and guided him to her entrance. His eyes almost crossed as she lowered herself onto him.
Unable to delay his pleasure, he lifted his hips and filled her channel in a possessive thrust. She leaned back, her long hair brushing his knees. She tilted her hips and rode him, taking him deeply as her clit rubbed against him. Her skin heated more with every stroke.
His eyes fixed on hers as he rolled his hips to meet hers. Their bodies came together slowly. Her mouth met his. Fingers explored each other. Her breaths came faster, her face flushed with hunger.
He slipped his hand between them, rolling her clit between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s it, Livvy, come for me.”
At his touch and the sound of his voice, Liv’s eyes closed, and her core rippled around him, her breath stalling in her chest. Jackson flexed his hips, increasing the depth of his thrusts. She met him thrust for thrust and squeezed him tightly, bringing him over the edge. He filled her with an explosive climax.
After she used the bathroom and he disposed of the condom, they lay in each other's arms. His hand rubbed her back as her head rested against his chest. Together, they fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
Sunday, October 12th
At 3:30, Jackson's phone rang, jolting them from their peaceful sleep. “Reynolds,” he answered.
“Jackson…” It was his mother, panic lacing her voice.
“What’s wrong?” He was already on his feet, getting dressed as she spoke.
Her breaths were coming in fast pants. “The garage is on fire.”
“Did you call it in?” He listened. “Okay. Stay across the street with Mrs. Weber. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Liv was already dressed. “What is it?”
“It’s my mom. Her garage is on fire.”
“Oh God. I’ll call Michael on the way,” she said.
The scene at Jackson's mother's house was tense. They arrived to find the fire department already there and the flames extinguished in their detached garage. Michael stood speaking with two other detectives and Molly as Liv made her way over to them. Their expressions were grave.
“We have a new body and a vial found beneath it.” Molly watched her assistant wheel the stretcher with the body into the ME’s hearse.
Jackson escorted his mother into his childhood home. He sensed nervous energy radiating off her in waves. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched his arm, seeking reassurance in his presence.
“Are you sure it's safe, Jackson?” his mother’s voice quivered with anxiety.
“Yes, Mom, I've checked everything. The damage was to the back two walls and the roof. The fire was caught in time. We're safe here,” he reassured her, offering a gentle smile. It was clear she wasn’t aware of the dead body.
Once inside, Jackson guided his mother to a cozy sitting area, where they could talk in peace. The tension eased from her shoulders as she settled into the familiar surroundings, the warmth of the room enveloping them like a comforting embrace.
Sitting beside her, Jackson listened as his mother expressed her fears and concerns about the fire. “I just can't shake the feeling of dread, Jackson. What if it happens again?”
“We'll be okay, Mom. I'll make sure of it,” Jackson promised, his voice steady and reassuring.
But even as he spoke, Jackson couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. This fire was personal. If she hadn't noticed, if she hadn't acted quickly... his thoughts trailed off.
His mother reached out and placed a shaking hand on his arm. “I’m so glad I redid the front bedroom into an office. I was tired of trying to get out there in the bad weather. We’re safe, and the fire didn’t damage anything important. The smoke didn’t even make it inside the house. That's all that matters,” she said softly.
