Page 147 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

My breath caught at the intensity of his gaze, but I still didn’t remove my hand. Instead, I wobbled a smile and stroked his skin with my thumb.

His eyes softened. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime.” With my cue to let go, I picked up my feet and swung back to my groove.

He pushed off the ground, resuming an easy swing. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just counting shooting stars.” My eyes tipped up to the sky just in time to see another. “There.” My finger shot in the air. “Did you see it?”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t they pretty?”

“Beautiful.” But he wasn’t staring at the sky. He was looking at me.

I blushed and dropped my arm as my heartbeat raced. Had Jackson just called me beautiful? Because it seemed like it. I didn’t have a lot of experience with men. None really. But that definitely sounded like flirting. And gosh, I liked it.

“Sure are a lot of stars. You don’t see stars like this in the city.”

I nodded. “I love it out here. I come out as much as I can in the summer to enjoy them. I live right over there.” I pointed past him to the back of my parents’ house. “Above the garage.” Yes, it was borderline loser to live twenty feet from my parents, but it was free and there wasn’t a huge rental market in Lark Cove.

Jackson’s boots skidded on the wood chips as he stopped his swing and stood. With his hand extended, he nodded to my place. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

I practically flew out of my seat. The minute my fingers slid against his palm, I got another one of those zaps. My breathing came in erratic pants rather than smooth ins and outs as he led me toward my house. With every step, I wished home wasn’t so close and my mom’s garden miles away, not just yards.

I tried not to wiggle my fingers, keeping them still in his grip so he wouldn’t let me go. But I was so excited to be holding Jackson’s hand, it was nearly impossible. Every atom in my body was buzzing. Never before had electrons whirled around protons and neutrons so fast.

Much too soon, we reached the base of the staircase that ran up the backside of the garage. I’d expected him to let go of my hand, but he didn’t. He towered over my five-five with an odd stare.

Maybe it was the light, or lack thereof, but his eyes seemed duller than usual, the blue clouded by a slight haze, and they looked tired.

I would stand here forever holding Jackson’s hand, but as exhaustion rolled off his wide shoulders, I reluctantly slipped my hand free. “I, um . . . thanks. Maybe we could—”

One moment I was trying to find the words to ask him out to dinner. The next, he was kissing me.

Jackson Page was kissing me.

On the lips.

His thick hands came to my cheeks. His calloused fingers slipped into the roots of my hair. And his tongue ran over my bottom lip.

My eyes went wide. Was this happening? His eyelids were closed. His nose was brushing mine. Our mouths were touching.

Jackson Page was kissing me. On. The. Lips!

I couldn’t not smile. When I did, he took advantage of the part in my lips and his tongue slid inside, tickling the inside of my cheek.

I gasped and turned to mush. Gripping his forearms so I wouldn’t fall, I relaxed completely into his kiss, letting my eyelids fall. His taste was incredible. It was minty with a hint of citrus. There was something else on his tongue too, but I wasn’t sure what.

Hesitantly, I stroked my tongue against his. I had no idea if I was doing this right, but when Jackson moaned into my mouth, I did it again.

From there, whatever he did, I copied. When he crested his tongue over my top lip, I did the same to his bottom. When he nipped at the corner of my mouth, I gave him one right back. And when he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, I waited until his was free, then did the same.

It was hot and wet and magic.

The scruff on his jaw made the skin around my lips the exact right amount of raw. An ache unlike anything I’d felt before curled in my belly. A throb pulsed between my legs. Without thinking, I shuffled my hips closer, brushing against the hardness in his jeans.

He hissed, sending a blast of air between us that cooled the wet skin above my lip. Then after one last lick, he pulled away.