Chapter Seventeen
Jackson
When I’d first woken up to find Brooklyn standing over me, I was still in the grips of the nightmare.
The nightmare where she told me that she was terminating the pregnancy and going to leave the state, that it was the only way she could see to get out of her current way of life, out from underneath Teddy’s thumb, and that if I followed her, tried to go after her, she would file a restraining order against me for stalking, knowing that with my job, well, stomething like that could be very bad for my career.
When I opened my eyes and she was standing there, I just reacted. I thought that maybe she’d changed her mind for whatever reason, dreams don’t make sense, and had come back to me.
The feeling of her skin against the palms of my hands, my mind for some reason couldn't grasp that I was no longer dreaming.
“Jackson. Jackson, look at me. Jackson,” finally, I look up, noting her red and puffy eyes and how her face is wet with tears. Brooklyn places a hand beneath my chin, forcing me to look up. Using the pad of her thumb, she wipes away the moisture that has gathered beneath my right eye and says, “I’m right here.” Then, she pulls my left hand away from her waist and places it against her cheek.
A part of me doesn’t believe that she’s really here—that instead, I’m only dreaming, but a bigger part of me desperately hopes that she really is.
Slowly, I move my hand from her face down her body, knowing that if Brooklyn really is here, she will stop me.
When my hand finds her breast, my cock hardens, and a groan falls from my lips as she gasps and leans into my touch.
The word “yes” falls from her lips, her breath coming faster with each brush of my fingers over her hardening nipple. “I’m here.”
“You’re here,” I automatically reply, not yet realizing that she’s telling me that she’s actually here with me.
As I play with her peaked bud, my mouth waters for a taste and my cock is desperate for some attention as I lean forward, watching for a reaction or any sign that she doesn’t want me to continue, knowing that Brooklyn, the *real* Brooklyn would push me away, likely telling me to *fuck off*, while she’s at it.
She accepts my kiss, and I’m torn on how to feel, but then she pulls away, my name breathlessly falling from her swollen lips.
“Brooklyn,” I cup her cheek, my lips thumb finding her bottom lip and smoothing over the pillow soft surface, desperate for it to really be her and take this further in equal measure.
“We—we can’t,” she says as she reaches down and removes my hand from her breast, threading our fingers together instead. She sighs, then looks up at me and says, “Jackson, we need to talk.”
I drop my head, resting my forehead against the side of her head and rasp, “Please,” the word comes out so quietly that I don’t even know if she hears it. So, I clear my throat, then continue, telling her the words that have been on my mind and my heart since I first saw the test results. “Stay with me.” I wait a beat and then repeat, “Stay with me and let me take care of you and our baby.”
“Jackson…” Brooklyn says my name hesitantly as she pulls away, putting some space between us. “I don’t know…”
“Just think about it.” I put my hands up in a placating manner, then say, “All I’m asking is that you think about it before making any decisions.” Then, I grasp hold of her hand, curling both of mine around her much smaller one and say, “I know that this wasn’t planned and that life hasn’t exactly been good to you, and I know that I am in no way perfect, far from it actually,” I say that last part partly under my breath but still loud enough that I know that she can still hear. “But, if you will even give me half a chance, I’d like to try to be the man that you deserve, give you a life that you deserve.”
“Jackson…” Brooklyn says, pulling her hand away. “What you’re asking—”
“I’m just asking for a chance,” I say, cutting her off mid-sentence.
She doesn’t say anything for several long minutes as we both sit in the quiet stillness filling the room.
I’ve nearly dozed back off, my eyes heavy from exhaustion, when her voice breaks the silence surrounding us, “Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask, jerking upright to give her my full attention.
“Yeah, okay,” she says warily.
I lean forward and cup her face with both of my hands, my thumbs brushing the apples of her cheeks as I gaze into her eyes, eyes that have seen more pain than any person should ever have to experience, and with my heart beating violently in my chest, in a hushed voice, I ask, “Can I kiss you?”
Brooklyn licks her lips, and I follow the action as I wait patiently for her response. After what seems like both an hour and only a minute, she nods, sliding a hand to cup the back of her head, I gently press my lips to hers.
The kiss is full of emotion and everything that I wish she knew, but I’m not yet ready to tell her.
Brooklyn places her hand on my growing erection, and as much as I was all for it not too long ago when I’d thought that I’d still been dreaming, that’s not what this kiss is about. I grasp hold of her hand, twining our fingers together, and then pull her into bed with me.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her back into my front, place a kiss against the side of her neck just below her ear, and murmur, “Sleep beautiful. We can talk more in the morning.”
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