“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.