Timid (Lark Cove Book 2)

Be bold.

That was my new motto.

Or at least it had been my motto for the last two minutes.

Jackson and I had arguably the best date of all time. He took me to a nice restaurant in Kalispell, a steakhouse I’d only been to once before with my parents. When I ordered the largest ribeye with sautéed mushrooms, a loaded baked potato and a side salad, Jackson didn’t even blink. He just grinned at the waitress and ordered the same.

Then we laughed. We talked—maybe more than I’d ever talked during a meal. Jackson wanted to know all about growing up in Lark Cove and my experiences in college. I wanted to know about funny stories from the bar. Hardly a moment went by where one of us wasn’t telling the other a story.

I may have watched Jackson from a distance for years, but tonight, I’d really gotten to know him. And everything I’d learned made me crave more.

“I had fun tonight,” he said as he escorted me up my staircase.

“I had fun too.” At the top step, I glanced over my shoulder. Be bold. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

I smiled, excitement bubbling in my belly as I unlocked the door. “Shoot.” I turned abruptly just inside the door. “My car is still at the camp.”

Jackson put his hands on my shoulders and spun me back around, urging me inside. “I’ll come get you in the morning and take you to work.”

Or you can just sleep here.

If I was really being bold, I would have said that out loud, but I guess I needed more practice. Still, the thought of Jackson in my apartment again sent a rush of nervous energy to my insides.

Was tonight the night I’d go all the way?

The thought of losing my virginity didn’t scare me—much. My fingers fumbled with the clasp on my pink clutch as we entered my loft. What would it feel like? Would it hurt? Would Jackson like it?

I glanced up at Jackson as I led him toward the couch. I really want him to like it.

More than anything else, I was nervous I wouldn’t be good at sex for Jackson. It was guaranteed I’d be awkward, there was no escaping the first-time jitters. But I was more anxious about Jackson’s reaction than I was for myself.

He’d take care of me. I just wanted to take care of him too.

My mouth was full of cotton; anxiety had parched me dry. So instead of going to the couch with Jackson, I turned for the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.” He crouched as he approached the wall, ducking so he wouldn’t hit his head before sinking into the couch.

“I’m just going to . . .” I pointed to the kitchen, then followed my finger.

Hurrying to the cupboard with the glasses, I took one out, filled it from the tap and chugged it in three hard gulps. Then I set it in the sink and took a deep breath as I looked out the kitchen window.

Be bold.

I could do this.

I left the kitchen and took a seat next to Jackson. A silence settled over the room as my shoulder pressed into his arm, but neither of us moved. Neither of us said a word. Though we were both breathing harder than normal.

Should I touch him? Maybe stroke his leg or something?

My hands wouldn’t move off my lap.

Be bold.

I could kiss him. I bet he’d really be surprised if I swung up and straddled his lap. Except in this dress, there’d be no swinging or straddling. And dress issues aside, I probably wouldn’t have done it anyway.

“I can hear the gears turning, Willa. What’s going on in your mind?”

“Nothing.” I stared at my lap. “I, um . . .”

Be bold. For once in your life, be bold.

I took a deep breath, then blurted, “Doyouwannastaythenight?”

“Say that again?”

My eyes squeezed shut. The courage I’d scraped together to say it once had nearly wiped out my reserves, but I summoned just a smidge more. “Do you want to stay the night?”

“Yes.”

My eyes flew open as I looked up at him, astonished. “Really?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to.”

“Oh.” I wanted to crawl under the couch cushions and hide. “Okay.”

“We need to talk about a few things first.” He angled his body on the sofa, turning my way. When I didn’t move or look away from my lap, he put his hands on my shoulders, gently twisting them sideways.

I still didn’t budge.

“Work with me here, babe.”

No one had ever called me babe before, and I always thought men used it when they couldn’t remember a woman’s name.

“I don’t know if I like being called babe.”

Jackson laughed. “Then I’ll think of something else. Now will you spin this way and look at me? Please?”

I sighed and turned, reluctantly lifting my eyes to meet his.

“You’re the best kiss I’ve had in my life.”

Me? I was a good kisser? “No way.”

“Yes, way. And that tells me that everything else we do is going to be off the charts. But I messed up your first kiss. I’m not going to mess up the rest. If I stay tonight, I doubt I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

There was so much running through my mind it nearly exploded. So I began processing his speech one piece at a time, starting at the beginning.

I was a good kisser? I was a good kisser. No, the best. My inner diva was about the size of a gummy bear, but she was standing tall tonight, giving me a burst of confidence.

My fingertips left my lap to trail up his jean-covered thigh. “What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Willa,” he groaned, the sound part torture, part pleasure. Before my fingers could get too far, his hand slapped down on mine. “Stop.”

I’d finally had the nerve to make a move and I’d been rejected. My gaze dropped, assessing the couch cushion again as a hiding spot.

“Hey.” Jackson’s hand came to my chin, tipping it back. “Can we just talk this through for a sec?”

I nodded. “All right.”

“I’m not going to lie to you.” He blew out a long breath. “I’m . . . nervous.”

“Nervous?” Why would he be nervous? It’s not like he hadn’t had sex before. “Why?”

“I really don’t want to fuck this up. You know? Your first,” he gulped, “time. It should be special. Not me fucking you on the couch after dinner.”

His confession, albeit crude, melted my heart. I loved that he cared to make sure I was comfortable. I loved that he was putting my feelings above his own needs.

I cupped his cheek with my palm. “Thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why’d you wait?”

I dropped my hand, then looked to my lap, unable to look him in the face as I spoke. “It wasn’t like it was something I planned. My virginity has never been sacred to me. Sex just . . . never happened. I didn’t date in high school. I went out a couple of times in college, but the guys, they just weren’t right.”

I didn’t get into Leighton’s story—that was hers alone to share. But it had definitely impacted my own choices when it came to sex and men.

“I was never so concerned with being a virgin that I felt the need to seek out someone to take it,” I admitted. “I guess I just always assumed that when the time was right, the time was right.”

“And is tonight that right time?”

Was it? Yes, I wanted to be with Jackson. But I could use a few more dates and some time with Jackson to work out my nerves. Was I ready yet? Now? “No.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t care?”

“Look at me,” he ordered, gently forcing my gaze to his. “You drive the boat. How fast or slow we go is up to you. Okay, Captain?”

I smiled. “Okay. As long as you promise never to call me Captain again.”

“I can do that.”

I sighed. “Can we at least make out or something? I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life to kiss you, and now that I can, it’s all I want to do.”

The words came out of my mouth so fast, my brain didn’t have time to stop them. But once my ears heard it all, I definitely wanted to hide under the couch cushion.

I was begging for a kiss. Begging. Golly gee, Willa. Be bold, not desperate.

My hands came to my face, hiding my hot cheeks. “I can’t believe I said that.”

Jackson chuckled and tugged my hands away. Then his mouth slowly descended toward mine. “We’re definitely doing something, cupcake.”

I grimaced. “No on cupcake.”

He chuckled. With his lips so close, the vibration skimmed my cheek. “Sugar?” He kissed the corner of my mouth.

My eyelids drifted closed as I whispered, “No.”

“Sweetness?” Another kiss, this time to the other corner of my lips.

“No.” I wasn’t a donut.

Jackson’s soft lips trailed up my cheek, leaving tingles as they went to my ear. “Darling?”

“Uh-uh.”

He sucked my earlobe into his mouth and I went limp, falling forward into his chest. Who knew his tongue in my ear would be such a turn on?

“More.” My hands went to his chest, pressing into the cotton of his gray button-down shirt.

His lips followed their trail backward toward my mouth. His smooth jaw was hot and hard against my cheek, and even without his normal stubble, it left a burn.

“Dear? Honey?”

“Dad calls Mom dear. He calls me honey.”

Jackson growled, taking his lips away from my face and ducking down to attach them at my collarbone.

I sagged into the back of the couch, completely dazed that he found all these new spots to make me melt.

“Princess?” he murmured against my neck.

My head lulled to the side. “That’s for little girls with pigtails.”

“Boo?”

“Absolutely not,” I breathed. “Keep going.” My hands went to the back of his head, his short hair soft against my palms as I pulled him closer.

His tongue came out, licking as his lips peppered kisses across my neck. “Doll?”

“Uh-uh.”

Another peppered kiss. “Cookie?”

I shook my head, inching my butt across the couch to get closer.

Straddle him. Now was the time for straddling.

My fingers left his chest and came to my skirt. I gathered the hem in my fists, dragging it up my thighs.

To my surprise, Jackson’s hands came down to help. His calloused fingers skimmed the sensitive skin of my legs, sending my heart into overdrive. The minute my knees were no longer constricted by the hem, I spread them apart.

In my haste, I pulled too hard and a small ripping noise came from the slit now bunched by my rear. That didn’t stop me. This was my most expensive dress, but I’d have Mom mend it later.

My hands shoved at Jackson’s brawny shoulders, sending him back into the couch, as I climbed onto his lap.

The second my core settled against the rough denim of his jeans, I let out a soft moan. His erection was sizeable beneath his zipper, beneath me, and it made my mouth go dry again. I was dizzy and hot and the tension coiling in my center was making me squirm.

It. Was. Incredible.

Riding Jackson’s lap was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. A couple of times, I’d experimented with things down below. After some girlfriends in college had tried to explain what an orgasm felt like, I’d gotten curious and touched myself in the shower.

But my fingers hadn’t built me up like this. Having Jackson’s mouth on my neck, his hardness rubbing against my lace panties, was so erotic I was trembling.

“Fuck, Willa,” he said into my neck before pulling back. His hands came to my face, pushing away the locks of hair that had escaped the clip in the back. “You’re perfect.”

I smiled, then leaned in and kissed him softly.

It didn’t stay sweet for long. Jackson’s fingers dug into my hair, angling my head the way he wanted so his tongue could explore every corner of my mouth.

The throbbing between my legs escalated and I ground my center into him, stretching my dress even further. The sound of splitting seams echoed in my room.

Jackson’s hands left my hair, wandering down my shoulders to my breasts. He cupped them both and rolled his thumbs over my nipples, peaking them even through my clothes.

This seemed way beyond a simple make-out session, but I was definitely not complaining. A rush of nervous excitement sent my hopes soaring into the stars as one of his hands drifted lower, disappearing beneath my skirt.

“Do you want me to stop?” he panted against my lips. “Just say the word.”

“No.” I wrapped my arms behind his neck. “Touch me.”

The minute his fingers touched the soaking wet center of my panties, my sex clenched. My shoulders shivered and my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

Jackson’s fingers were a thousand times better than my own.

“More?” he whispered.

I nodded and one of his fingers slipped beneath the lace of my panties. It stroked through my folds twice before finding my clit.

“Jackson,” I gasped as he circled my bud. My hips slid deeper into his hand, needing more pressure.

The hand he had on my breast dropped to my skirt. His fingertips tickled my thighs as he slid it up toward my panties. With a rough tug, he yanked them to the side, making room for both of his hands.

I was so primed, he didn’t meet any resistance as he slipped a finger inside, curling it to stroke my inner walls. With his other hand, he swapped out a finger for the pad of his thumb to work my clit.

He was drowning me in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he whispered against my neck as his finger plunged in and out. His lips came to the soft spot beneath my ear, kissing it just as he added another finger. The stretch of them both was unbelievable.

If his fingers felt this way, having him inside me would be otherworldly. Judging by the bulge on his lap, he was big. Would he even fit?

That particular worry fell away as Jackson picked up the pace of his thumb. There wasn’t much space between us, but somehow, his strong arms and unbelievably capable hands fit right where they needed to be.

As the tension built higher, I let my hips rock back and forth as I held on to his shoulders for balance.

“That’s it, babe. Fuck my fingers.” His hoarse whisper made my core clench. “You like my dirty mouth, don’t you? Just wait until I use it instead of my fingers to make you come.”

“Yes,” I moaned, long and loud.

Jackson’s mouth latched onto my neck, sucking hard like he was trying to draw out my taste. The friction of his fingers and his hot, wet lips sent me spiraling higher until I was strung so tight, all I could do was snap.

My body shook as I came, my core squeezing Jackson’s fingers in hard pulses. My body jerked out of my control and white spots burst behind my eyelids. Pulse after pulse, the shocks ran through every muscle until I was limp and draped over Jackson’s chest.

When the aftershocks of my orgasm subsided, Jackson gently removed his fingers from my panties, righting them back into place. As the fabric settled over my sensitive clit, a ripple of shivers ran down my spine.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” Jackson whispered into my hair.

His comment would have embarrassed me on most days, but now, it just made me smile. I didn’t have the energy for embarrassment. “Thanks.”

With his hands on my hips, he shifted me down his thighs and off his erection with a groan.

My eyes shot open. “What about you? Should I . . .” I swallowed. “Do you want a hand job?”

Hand job? Turns out, I had plenty of energy left to be embarrassed, and I was never saying hand job again.

“No, that was just for you.” Jackson smiled as the heat crept up my cheeks. “Come here.”

He shifted on the couch, tossing up both of his legs so he was lying down. As he moved, he shifted my legs to one side, positioning me so I was tucked down his entire length.

I was trapped between his strong body and the back of the couch, lying on his chest.

Not a bad place to be stuck.

The skirt of my dress was still bunched up my thighs, so I wiggled it down. My gaze tracked down his body, his long legs hanging well over the other armrest.

“I need a bigger couch.”

“Nah. This one works just fine.”

I giggled, snuggling deeper into his side.

“Your hair is so soft.” With the arm underneath me, he toyed with a strand.

“So is yours.” I’d thought it would be spiky, but it felt more like velvet. “I like that you keep it short.”

“Me too. I hated it when Hazel first made me buzz it off, but then I got used to it. It’s actually a bit curly when it grows out.”

“Really?” I kind of wanted to see him with curls. “Why did Hazel make you cut it?”

“Lice,” he grumbled. “My whole foster home got it one year. I used the shampoo and shit to kill them, but Hazel didn’t want to take any chances that I’d pass them on to Thea. So she made me buzz it all off. After that, I never grew it back. It’s easier this way.”

Lice. Just the word made my scalp itch, but I resisted the urge. “That sounds awful.”

“It was. There was this little girl who lived with us at the time. She had this long, brown hair. It had the same kind of waves as yours. No matter how many times they shampooed her, they’d still find eggs so they made her chop it all off. I’ve never seen a person cry so hard.”

As a woman who loved her hair, my heart hurt for that little girl. “Poor thing.”

“I didn’t really get it at first. I thought it was just a girl thing to get so worked up over a haircut. But later she told me that her mother was getting out of jail soon and she was worried that without her hair, her mom wouldn’t recognize her to take her home.”

And now my heart broke for the little girl. “Did her mom come back for her?”

“Yeah. She got released a few months later and took the girl home. I always wondered if her mom stayed out of trouble.”

I dropped my cheek back onto his chest. “I hope she did. For the girl’s sake.”

“Me too, babe.”

Babe. He’d called me babe earlier, right before I’d come. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Maybe it was actually kind of perfect.

“That one. Babe. I think I like it now.”

“Thank god.” He laughed. “I was running out of options.”