Chapter 177

My wolf yips inside of me, suddenly incredibly eager and awake, turning in circles as we walk closer and closer to Jackson’s door. Suddenly, I stop in the hallway, my jaw falling open as I look down at my chest – where she lives, alongside my spirit.

“You little brat!” I whisper aloud, appalled at her. She snickers, of all things – god, can wolves even snicker? “You were just pretending to be sleepy!”

My wolf doesn’t answer me, just curls up demurely in my soul and crosses her paws, prim.

I laugh and roll my eyes, propelled forward, deciding not to think about it. I’ve had quite a bit to drink, after all – I probably won’t get anywhere anyway.

The hallway is cool and dark as I tiptoe up to the door I know is Jackson’s – the big suite in a quiet part of the palace where mom thought he’d be comfortable. Biting my lip a little, excited and anxious at once, I step close to the door and raise my fist, giving a quick little rap before whipping my hands behind my back.

At first, for a long moment, there’s silence.

And then I burst into a grin, and my wolf gives an unintentional little howl, when I hear movement inside of the room – the soft rush of sheets, and then the soft sound of Jackson’s footsteps – shockingly light for such a big guy.

The knob turns, and the door opens just a crack. I’m still grinning as I tilt my chin up to look into his gorgeous face, just barely visible in the dark.

Unfortunately, there are sort of two of him right now, because my vision is…a little hazy from drinking. So, I close one eye and peer at him, grinning stupidly. “Hi,” I say, pressing my hands together behind my back.

Jackson works hard to keep from smiling, but I can tell by the way that his eyes crinkle that he’s not displeased. Nope, not one bit. Slowly, he pulls open the door, still not saying a word.

And my mouth pops open as my eyes drift down over him, taking in his bare chest, the pajama pants slung low over his hips.

Because…god…god damn it but Jackson is fit.

I just stare at him, shaking my head a little and realizing that I actually have not had many good opportunities to see Jackson shirtless – and certainly not this close. A few times, perhaps, during candidacy, when we were outside and it was hot and a couple of guys were working out without their shirts on? But that was always from a distance.

And I certainly never saw him in the showers – Jackson, he always took his showers privately, like I did.

So, I never –

“Ari,” Jackson murmurs, laughing a little, reaching out a hand and curling a finger under my chin, turning my face up to look at him. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” I mutter quickly, blushing beet red to have been caught just ogling him. I whip my hands up, smacking them over my face, covering my eyes as well as my cheeks.

He laughs harder now, letting go of my chin and gently grabbing one of my wrists, trying to pull my hand away. But I hold tight, and he just succeeds in pulling me slightly off-balance in my ridiculous six-inch heels. “What are you doing?”

But I just shake my head, laughing with him now. “Nothing,” I reply, keeping my eyes covered. “Just…not looking at you.”

“Why not?” he murmurs, his voice dipping deep in that way I really, really like.

“Because,” I sigh, stumbling again to lean against his doorframe. “You’re just…very ugly, Jackson. Very difficult to look at, in the face area. And your body in particular – just – yuck – It’s self-preservation, really, covering my eyes –“

He bursts out laughing now, laughter that turns into a sharp snarl as he leans forward and grabs me around the waist. I squeal a little, in delight as well as a little visceral fear – Jackson, he is very frightening, after all, on like, a basic, bodily level – and wrap my arms around his neck. Jackson pulls me up against him in the same moment that he yanks me into the room and pushes the door shut with a satisfying, definitive smack.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, holding me close and falling back against the wall next to the door.

I grin at him in the dark of the room, my face very close to his, my feet nowhere near the ground. God, I love how he always picks me up. I don’t know why – it’s not like he carries me anywhere or it does any productive good. I just…love it. “You did?” I whisper, delighted.

“I always miss you,” he murmurs, leaning forward a little to nudge my nose with his.

“Oh yeah?” I say, sighing a little. “Even like, when I’m in the same room?”

Jackson just frowns at me like I’m crazy. “No, Ariel, that’s ridiculous.”

I burst out laughing, tilting my head back on my neck.

I can feel him grinning – feel it down the bond, feel it in the way that his chest rumbles. “Why would I miss you when you’re still in the room?”

“Because!” I protest, laughing, pulling my head back up to look into his shining eyes. “It’s romantic.”

“It’s dumb,” he says, sighing happily and staring into my face, searching it like he’s memorizing the details. “If you’re in the room, I’m glad you’re there. I can’t miss you in the same moment that I’m glad you’re there.”

“So, you’re glad I’m here?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he whispers back, simple and sweet. “Always want you near.” And then he moves his head forward, as I hoped he would, and brings his mouth to mine, and kisses the daylights out of me. I moan a little, loving the feeling of his lips on mine, the way he kisses me languidly, like he has all damn night to do it. I love the way his hands tighten against the silk of my dress, the way his skin feels hot under my hands as I let them slip down his neck, and over his shoulders.

Jackson shudders against me and then breaks away, loosing a long breath. In that, I can feel that he’s working very hard to keep his control.

“What?” I murmur, closing the distance between us, wanting him to kiss me again.

“I just, um…” he clears his throat and quietly starts to lower me to the ground. I squeak in protest, bending my knees so that my feet lift far from the floor, so that when Jackson expects my heels to hit there’s nothing there.

He bursts out laughing again and straightens up, and I grin with pleasure when I’m pressed again against his chest, right where I want to be. “Your parents were right,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath and smiling at me, “trouble.”

“Why are you trying to put me down?” I frown at him, not liking that he ended our kiss right when things were getting interesting.

“Because,” he murmurs, looking at me seriously, shaking his head slightly. “It is…difficult, to not let myself get carried away with you, Ariel –“

I look at him wide-eyed, like that’s kind of the point.

Jackson’s face bursts into a grin like he can’t help it, but then he forces his face into more serious lines. “And,” he continues, like he needs to get this out while he can, even as his arms tighten around me, “you’re kind of drunk, and you’re exhausted –“

I squeak again, displeased and a little offended. “I am not very drunk, Jackson McClintock!”

“You have to close one eye to look at me!”

“Vision aside, I am perfectly able to consent to…stuff.” I growl, narrowing my eyes at him.

“All right,” Jackson says, smirking a little now as he gets to what I can tell is the truth. “If you really want to know, Ariel, I am having trouble with this at the moment because you smell all over of Luca Grant.”

I gasp, my eyes going wide. Then I groan, and slip my arms from around Jackson’s neck, covering my face again in my embarrassment.