by Joanna Bell
"Doesn't he know how much it matters to me?" He continued, his pale blue eyes flashing with anger. "Does he think I don't understand legacy, or what my role is? I even told him. I told him I never even considered doing anything else. And he just threw it in my face, said he didn't believe me – that he didn't trust me."
"He said that?" I asked, my stomach tightening with dislike.
Jackson nodded. "Yeah. And you know what the worst part is? The worst part is I actually know where all of this bullshit is coming from. It's not me he doesn't trust – it's himself. He's never been able to admit his own mistakes. I'm pretty sure he blames my mother for her own death."
He hardly ever talked about his mom. All I knew was that she died in a car accident when he was 8 years old.
"She left that night, you know," Jackson continued. "The night she died. They had a huge fight and he threw a bottle of whiskey at her. It missed, but she left because she was afraid he was going to go further. She was always afraid of that. And then her car slid on black ice just outside of town and went into Jenkins' Pond. They told me she died instantly but a few years ago Cillian found the autopsy report and she, uh – she drowned. She drowned in that car. And I'll – Hailey, I will be goddamned if I let that asshole lay his own shit on me."
I took a small step back, shocked. Jackson stayed where he was, his jaw tight as he stared out over the choppy water.
I desperately wanted to help. Wanted to say the right thing even though I didn't have any idea what that was. A sudden need to do something – anything – to show him I cared seized me.
So I kissed him. All that time spent thinking about what it would be like to kiss him and I just did it. I meant to kiss his cheek but ended up getting the corner of his mouth and then he turned to me and our eyes met.
"I – I'm sorry," I stammered, not sure if I was apologizing for kissing him, or for all the sadness he'd been carrying around for so long, or for the wildly inappropriate heat rising in my belly.
And then he kissed me back. He took my face in his hands and leaned in to kiss me slow and deep until the ferry and the statue and New York and the rest of the world simply disappeared.
Everything inside me was hectic. "Hailey," Jackson whispered hoarsely, pausing just long enough to kiss each of my cheeks before pressing his lips back against mine and slipping his tongue between them.
It felt like being undone. And who knows how lost I would have gotten in the dark, tangled forest of desire if a loud voice hadn't suddenly broken the spell.
"OK you two, that's enough. There are children on board."
We both looked up, blinking, at a chubby man in a uniform.
Oh, yeah. We were in public. In front of other people, some of whom were watching us get told off.
"Sorry," Jackson said, and some new depth in his voice made my entire body tighten. "We were – yeah, sorry about that."
When the man seemed satisfied that we weren't going to rip each other's clothes off in front of the rest of the passengers, he wandered off and Jackson and I turned to each other.
He ran one hand through his hair and let out a quick laugh. "Shit, Hailey. You should have told me you had a weakness for sad stories. I would have told you that one way sooner."
I knew what he was doing because I knew him. He was embarrassed about baring his soul a few moments before. About showing just how angry he was at his father.
That was our first kiss. And right away, right there on the ferry back from the Statue of Liberty, things felt profoundly changed. We were still holding hands – and we didn't let go. Not when we got up to disembark, not when we got into the taxi to the airport, and not as we flew back to Montana to go back to our real lives. For months, most of Sweetgrass Ridge assumed I was already Jackson's girlfriend. But now, just like that, I suddenly was.
Chapter 13: Jackson
The months between the trip to New York and the following spring when everything fell apart were the happiest of my life. I was young and in love – and it turns out everything they say about being young and in love is 100% true. I wore Hailey Nickerson's love like armor, stronger for it and more able to weather the blows of my relationship with my family because of it.
It was March when we found ourselves out at the canyon as we usually did when we happened to have coinciding free time, sitting in my truck because it was too cold to sit on the hood and watching fluffy snowflakes twirl dizzily down from the sky. I reached over across the center divider and stroked Hailey's thigh, getting instantly hard when she sighed softly and opened her legs just a little bit.
Our relationship was getting increasingly physical, but the truth is I'd never taken it so slow. I'd never had to – and I'd never wanted to. But it was different with Hailey. I cared about her. And because I cared about her, I was careful with her. I wanted her to be ready. And even though long make-out sessions in my truck drove me almost out of my mind with lust, I even enjoyed that part. I enjoyed the way it made me feel when she trusted me to take a next step, to go a little further, to touch her somewhere no one else had touched her before. It made me feel like a man. She made me feel like a man.
I wasn't sure if she knew how crazy all her tiny little reactions made me. I remember feeling the heat of her sex against my hand that night, the warmth of her body leaking through her panties, through her leggings, begging me to go further.
So I did. I pushed one finger against the spot where she was warmest and she let out a little gasping breath that hit me like a bolt of lightning.
I'd gotten pretty good at controlling myself by then. Really good, actually, given that it was never a skill I needed to possess before Hailey. But the way her sigh hit my ears caused a physical sensation inside me, a rush of blood and heat that almost made it difficult to breathe. And then she wrapped her fingers around my wrist and guided my hand into her leggings.
Her panties were thin, warm, and entirely soaked through.
"Hailey," I breathed at the feeling of her wetness, even through fabric. "Hailey, I don't know if –"
I was trying to warn her. I'd been so careful so far. So steely in my self-control. She felt so fucking good, though.
"It's OK," she whispered, pulling me close and opening her lips for my tongue. "I want you to. Jackson, I want –"
Her voice broke off into a heavy exhalation of breath before she could finish as I pulled her panties out of the way and slid two fingers up between her slick lips. My cock stiffened and throbbed in my jeans. It was as far as we'd gone, and already I could feel the rope of my control beginning to fray.
Our eyes met as I stroked her and watched her lips melt in a round 'O' of bliss as she began to rock her hips against me. There was a new hunger in her next kiss, something I'd sensed her holding back before. Hailey was working herself up to a place where she was ready to give herself – all of herself – over to the river of desire that flowed between us whenever we so much as stood next to each other.
"Jackson," she whispered, her brow furrowing as my fingers moved quicker. "Oh, Jackson...oh...my God."
Was she going to come? Fuck. How many times had I laid in bed at night dreaming of doing just that to her? Letting my mind roam over every detail of what she might sound like, how she might move, the way her face would look. And now there I was, genuinely worried I was going to lose it if she let out just one more sigh.
But at the same time, I couldn't stop. Someone could have yanked open the door to the truck and put a gun to my head and I would not have been able to pull my hand away from its spot between Hailey's impossibly soft thighs.
"Jackson –"
Jesus, the tone in her voice when she said my name. The way she tightened her grip on my wrist as she became more and more fraught. As she rose up higher and higher on what my fingers were doing to her, it took every ounce of strength to stay in control. How was she so wet? So perfectly slippery and inviting?
Get a hold of yourself.
"Jackson, oh God..."
"Hailey," I repl
ied, kissing her damp cheek. "Hailey. Baby, are you going to come? Are you –"
"Yeah," she panted, throwing her head back against the seat and balling her hands into fists. "Jackson, yeah. Oh shit. Oh my God. Jackson!"
And then she came. Her back arched sharply, suddenly, and her face crumpled into a mask of pure ecstasy as I slid the tip of just one finger back and forth against her clit, moving with her, holding her there at the peak for as long as I could.
To this day I have no idea how I managed not to come in my pants like an over-eager teenager. I was almost there, right on the edge as I listened to her strangled little moans and sighs. When she was finished, and sitting limp and smiling next to me, I pushed a lock of hair off her sweaty brow and told her to give me second.
"OK Jackson," came the slow, almost drunk-sounding reply. "You can have as many seconds as you want."
I kissed her cheek one more time and jumped out of the truck, closing the door behind me and letting the cold air hit me full on. I had to do something. In the past, that something would have been obvious. In the past, an ache in my balls meant one thing – some girl was going to have to take care of it. And there was always a few of them more than willing to help me out. But Hailey?
Hailey was different. She wasn't one of those girls.
"Jackson?"
She was walking towards me, smoothing her clothes back into place.
"Get back in the truck," I told her, and even I could hear the gruffness in my voice. "It's too cold to be outside without a coat on."
"You don't have one on," she smiled, wrapping her arms around me and nestling her head into my chest. "And you sound funny. Why do you sound funny?"
"Why do you think?" I replied, watching as her expression changed from confused to amused – and slightly guilty – as she glanced down at what there would have been no point in trying to hide.
"Oh."
I laughed, but it was a tortured laugh. "Yeah. 'Oh.' Would it be weird if I just drove home to jerk off right now? It would, right?"
Hailey giggled, but I could hear that note of hesitancy that was often in her voice when certain topics came up.
"Do you..." she started a moment later. "Is that – what you do?"
I looked down at her earnest face, grinning even though I really was uncomfortably aroused. "Hailey – is there any part of you that thinks I don't?"
She wasn't a prude. She was still a virgin, though, with all the shy curiosity about sexuality – especially mine – that came along with it.
"Does that bother you?" I asked.
"No. It's actually – it's kind of hot."
I leaned my head back and looked at the sky, searching for whatever God might be up there to lend me a hand with maintaining a semblance of control. "Jesus, Hailey."
"What? It is. Sometimes after you go home I – I think about if you're doing that or not. Like, I think about it when I'm doing it. The same thing. If you know what I mean."
"Oh I know what you mean," I told her as a sharp, throbbing pang ran through my balls. "I know exactly what you mean. You're killing me right now, do you know that? If I die, tell Cillian the ranch is his, OK?"
I had to joke. It was either that or explode.
"What does it feel like? Right now, I mean?"
Hailey didn't ask a lot of specific questions like that.
"Uh," I replied, rubbing my forehead, deciding that if her plan was in fact to torture me to death there at the edge of the canyon there were worse ways to go. "It feels like being really hungry – starving – and having someone put a full banquet down in front of you. But you can't –"
Before I could finish, her hand, cold from the winter air, was on my belly. She'd put her hand there before, tentatively, curious about my reaction. But she'd never gone further, and I'd already decided that I wasn't going to push her the way I'd pushed other girls. I wasn't going to make it cheap with her. I was going to let her go at her own pace. Even if it fucking killed me – which it looked like it was about to.
"I want to feel it."
I looked down at her. She was serious.
"But I – I don't know what to do."
She was worried about what to do. As if just existing wasn't enough.
"Get back in the truck. I don't want you losing your hand to frostbite."
When we got back into the truck, she sat in the passenger seat looking at me, and then down at the obvious bulge in my jeans.
"Can I say something stupid?"
"You can say anything you want," I told her, my head still ringing with the sound of her orgasmic sighs.
She reached out and put her palm on one of my thighs. Just on my thigh, no higher. "I'm a little afraid. Of – it."
"I know," I replied, certain some fuse in my brain – or my balls – was going to blow at any minute. "So is everyone before they do anything like this. It's totally –"
"No," she interrupted, slowly letting a few fingers creep up my leg. "Of it. You've been with so many girls, Jackson. I bet they all knew what to do with it. And I don't."
My cock twitched in my jeans as her fingertips inched closer. If only she knew how easy it would be. How many seconds (less than 10, certainly) it would have taken to finish me off right then and there, without even bothering to unzip.
"Do you want me to show you?" I asked, sensing that what she was really asking me for was reassurance.
"Yes."
So I put my hand over hers and moved it up, closing my eyes and exhaling heavily when it was in the right place.
"Hailey..."
"Yeah?" She looked up at me, her dark eyes burning with a new fire.
"I should warn you – this probably isn't going to take long."
"I don't care."
Instead of letting me guide her hand, she pulled away suddenly and sat back in the passenger seat, watching me. What was that look in her eyes? And then she reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it off over her head.
We'd been like a couple of eager kids for months as my determination to take the physical side of our relationship seriously – and slowly – held up. I'd seen glimpses before. But now Hailey was right in front of me, holding my gaze steadily as she unhooked her bra and pulled it off.
"You're beautiful," I whispered, my eyes drinking in the soft, perfect curves of her breasts. "Jesus Hailey, you are so beautiful."
She reached out and I pulled her over the center console into my lap before cupping her breasts in my hands, squeezing them gently, almost shuddering with lust at the feeling of her nipples stiffening against my palms. Her mouth found mine almost at once, her kisses nakedly hungry now as my hands explored her body.
"Jackson," she breathed when we paused, pressing her hips down against me, knowing instinctively how to move even though she thought she didn't know what do to. "Jackson – I want –"
She kissed me again, curling her tongue into my mouth and speeding up the movements of her hips. It wasn't long before I was forced to stop her.
"Slow down," I warned, grasping her outer thighs. "Hailey, you have to slow down. Please."
She bit her lip and gave me a little half-smile. "Why?"
"I think you know why," I told her, closing my eyes as she pushed her hips down again, grinding against me. "I'm not kidding, Hailey. You keep that up and –"
"I told you," she repeated, her breath hot against my cheek. "I don't care. I want you to."
"You want me to what?" I asked, catching her eye as my cock, still trapped in the confines of my jeans, throbbed painfully.
Instead of replying, she moved away and, before it could even sink in what she was doing, pulled her leggings off. And then she was back in my lap, naked except for that flimsy pair of soaking wet panties, her fingers on my zipper.
"Wait." I took her wrists in my hands. "Hailey. Stop it. Hold on."
It was suddenly my turn to put the brakes on. I was going to come if she so much as brushed her thigh against my cock – I could feel the peak already, right there, ju
st waiting for the smallest touch to trigger it.
When she tried to push down against me again I actually held her off. "Hailey! Just – give me a minute. Just hold on."
She didn't have a choice but to hold on, because I was a lot stronger than she was. No matter how hard she squirmed to get contact with me again, I easily held her at bay.
"Is this what you want?" I asked, more as a delaying strategy than anything else – because what she wanted could not have been more obvious.
"Yes," she whispered, pushing her fingers into my hair and sighing as I leaned forward and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. "And I don't care if you – oh God – I don't care if you don't last very long Jackson. I'm ready for this. I want it."
Something in her voice weakened my resolve to almost nothing. I ran my hands down her naked sides, over her hips and down into her panties, digging my fingers into the flesh of her ass. And when her hands were finally free, and they went straight to my zipper, I didn't have it in me to stop her again.
"Oh my God. Jackson – oh my God."
Show me a man who says hearing a woman gasp at the sight of his cock isn't one of the most gratifying feelings in the entire universe and I'll show you a fucking liar.
Hailey was perched on my lap, staring down at the stiff, aching problem in her hand as if it was some kind of alien.
"Holy shit," she whispered, giggling and then looking suddenly serious as she wrapped her hand gingerly around me, almost like she was afraid of it.
"Mmm..." I said, catching my breath and looking through the windshield over her shoulder, trying to think about anything except how close I was.
At once, she withdrew her hand. "Did it hurt?"
I laughed tightly. "No, pain is not the word I would use..."
I couldn't help slipping my fingers into her panties again, noting the way she positioned her hips over my cock when I did so.
