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Only his eyes are lit with a fire that I recognize.
The same fire that burns inside me.
We don’t say anything to announce our departure. We just leave, Jackson leading me down the short hall to his bedroom. We slip inside the room, Jackson reaching over and turning on the lamp that sits on top of his dresser before he pulls the door shut and locks it. I glance around his room, taking it all in. It’s clean, nothing cluttered on top of every available surface like my space. His bed is neatly made, and I go to sit on the edge of it, anticipation curling through me at what is about to happen next.
Along with a healthy dose of fear.
He must’ve taken a shower before he came home, because he’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his tank and jeans long gone. I watch as he toes off his shoes, kicking them to the side. He whips his shirt off next, pulling it off with one hand in that casual way guys do. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his bare chest. It’s lean. Sculpted with muscle that stretches smooth and taut. A flat belly with a golden trail of hair that leads from below his navel and far past the waistband of his shorts.
“I realized that last time I got to see you naked, but you’ve never seen me naked,” he says, his voice casual. Like it’s no big deal, that the man of my dreams is stripping in front of me. “Figured you were curious.”
I say nothing. My voice has completely left me.
He rests his hand against the center of his chest for a brief moment before it goes sliding down. Over the flat terrain of his stomach, until his fingers are toying with the waistband of his shorts. “Do you like watching me, Ellie?”
I realize I do a lot of that. Watch Jackson. When he’s out on the football field. When he’s on stage. He’s my favorite thing to look at, bar none.
“I do,” I whisper.
His hand slips beneath the front of his shorts, and he palms himself. I wish I could see everything. Witness him stroking himself. What a sight to see. So much on display for me to look at, I don’t know where to look first.
So I watch his busy hand moving beneath his shorts, and I fantasize what he looks like naked.
He must see the need on my face, because he gets rid of the shorts, kicking them away when they fall to his feet. He’s just in his boxer briefs now. They cling to him like a second skin, the pale gray fabric outlining everything.
Everything.
Jackson walks toward me, leaning over as I tip my head back, our lips meeting in a deliciously dirty, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue plunders, wrapping around my own, his hand sliding into my hair, gripping the back of my head, fingers tugging on the strands. It hurts, but I like the sting, the hungry way he kisses me, how he’s not holding anything back. I can feel his energy washing over me, making me hungry too and I reach for him, my hands landing on hot, bare skin, my fingers immediately exploring.
I want to explore every inch of him.
He abruptly pulls away, his hands at the side of his briefs as if he’s going to pull them down at any second. “Want to see?”
“Yes,” I whisper without hesitation.
He smiles. “Show me what you’ve got first. Let me see you, El.”
I take my camisole off, revealing my lacy bra. My nipples poke against the fabric, hard and tingling, and I reach behind my back, undoing the hook so they spring free. I discard the bra, letting it fall to the floor and I sit in front of him, naked from the waist up.
His gaze never straying from my breasts, he murmurs, “Show me more.”
As if in a trance, I rise to my feet and undo the snap of my jeans, sliding the zipper open before I push the denim down my legs, kicking them off. My panties are pale yellow and cheeky and I hesitate, not about to show him all the goods, even though he’s already seen them.
“Your turn,” I tell him, my voice husky.
“At the same time?” he asks.
I shake my head. “You go first. You’ve already seen me.”
“Got me there,” he says with a closed-lipped smile, right before he sheds the briefs.
Revealing himself in his full naked glory.
And what a sight it is to see. His cock is huge. Pointing in an arc, the head toward his flat stomach, the muscles in his thick thighs defined. My mouth pops open, I can’t help it, and I stare at him for a little while, caught up in all this male beauty on display just for me.
“You’re making me nervous,” he says after too much silence.
I lift my gaze to his. “You’re beautiful,” I say truthfully.
