Page 27 of Can’t Let You Go (Ivy Ridge #3)

FALLON

T he bathroom door closes with a soft click , and I immediately jump into action.

I got the idea for my brilliant plan when we were walking up to the hotel room, and now it’s time to put it into action.

I knew I needed to get into the bathroom first, that way, when Jason was using the bathroom, I could stand my ground.

I grab my pillow from the bed, and throw it onto the couch. I move his phone and charger over to the bed on the opposite side of where I was sleeping. If my plan fails, I’ll be spending the night on the couch. Which will be fine, but not ideal for either of us.

Pulling back the sheets on Jason’s makeshift bed, I lay down, adjusting the pillow behind my head, and scroll on my phone. I have to hold my ground. I can do this.

A few minutes later, Jason steps out of the bathroom, running a towel over his damp hair. He’s shirtless, wearing only his pajama pants. The hem of his boxers is visible as his pants ride low, and I have to swallow down the extra saliva pooling in my mouth. You can’t drool over the man, Fallon .

I need to shut down this attraction to him, for my own sake. I really don’t think it’s reciprocated, and I don’t want to deal with that rejection.

Jason doesn’t see me at first, but glances over at the bed, and sees it empty. His brows furrow, and then he looks over to the couch where I’m laying.

“What are you doing?” he questions, his voice gruff.

“Going to bed,” I say with a shrug. “I figured it was only fair that I sleep on the couch tonight, since you did last night.”

He shakes his head in what appears to be irritation. “No. Get up.”

“No.” Hold your ground, Fallon.

Jason tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. “Fallon, seriously. Get up.”

“No,” I simply reply.

He takes a deep breath, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “worse than a toddler.”

I hold in my giggle at his frustration, because this isn’t going to work if I laugh. The ideal plan would be for both of us to end up in the bed, but if I have to sleep here, then so be it.

“Fallon.” He gives me his best stern look, one I’m assuming works easily on Lennie.

“Jason.”

“Come on. You’re going to get hurt sleeping on the couch.”

“Worse than you got hurt?” I refute. “You only started walking normally an hour ago.”

He groans. “How can I get you to sleep in the bed?”

I hold in my smile. I’ve got him now. “I’ll sleep in the bed if you do.

It’s stupid that you’re insisting on sleeping on this couch when there is a perfectly good bed right there.

We’re adults. We can share a king size bed, no problem.

We can even put up the extra pillows between us to make a barrier, if you’re that worried about it. ”

There’s a long pause, and I stare at him the entire time. I can see the moment his resolve fully cracks.

“Fine,” he mutters.

I try my best not to smile with glee as I stand up from the horrible couch, taking my pillow and phone charger and stride over to the bed. “Good. Glad we came to this agreement.”

I climb into the bed after plugging in my phone, and roll onto my side. The overhead light flicks off, leaving us in the dim glow of the lamp. The bed dips as Jason opens the sheets and climbs in on the opposite side of me.

I turn off the lamp, leaving us in complete darkness. I turn so I’m facing Jason, and though I can barely see in the dark, I can tell he’s facing me too.

“Goodnight, Jase,” I say, my heart thrumming rapidly in my chest. He shifts, and it’s almost like he’s scooting closer to me.

My hand is resting in the empty space between us, and I swear I’m more aware of the heat of his body. “Goodnight, Fallon,” he replies, his voice quiet, and almost… tense.

I’m not sure what prompts me to, but I speak. “It’s been years since I’ve shared a bed with someone. Well, besides Presley, but even then, it’s rare.”

I’m met with a long beat of silence, then, “Me too. Lennie doesn’t sleep in my bed unless she’s sick.”

“It’s kind of nice,” I admit. My face heats, and I’m grateful he can’t see it.

“Yeah, it is.”

My lips are moving before I have the forethought to keep them shut. “It sounds stupid, but it’s one of the reasons I miss Brad. Well, I'll take that back. I don’t miss him. I miss the connection, the familiarity and comfort of something as simple as sharing a bed with someone.”

“I miss it too,” Jason responds. His voice is deep, and it sends a shiver down my spine. “But I don’t want to talk about your ex while I’m laying in bed next to you, Fallon.”

There’s that tingling sensation again.

I find myself scooting a little closer to Jason.

I crave his warmth. I know he doesn’t want me, doesn’t want anything more, and to be honest, I don’t either.

And yet, I can’t help this draw I have to him, can’t help the recent pining and emotions he’s been bringing up in me.

The same thing I felt all those years ago, and I messed it up, and lost him. I did that. Not him.

“This is nice,” I say, my voice breathy.

“Yeah,” Jason replies, his voice gravelly. It’s like a magnet is pulling us together, because I move even closer to him. We meet in the middle of the large bed, and though we aren’t touching, we may as well be with how close we are.

The second guessing starts back up. Do I move away? Am I pushing this too far? Pushing him?

I’m about to back away when Jason’s large palm lands on my hip, pulling me that last short distance into him.

I suck in a breath at the contact, and let my body sink further into the mattress, into his touch.

My own palm moves on its own accord until it’s flat against his bare chest. His skin is so warm and smooth that I can’t breathe.

Our hips are pressed together, bodies as close as they can be to each other. Jason’s free hand comes up, pushing away my still damp hair from my face to cup my cheek.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he says. He didn’t say we shouldn’t do this. He said I shouldn't do this. Does that mean he doesn’t want to do this with me? Am I the problem? I panic and start to pull away, knowing I pushed too hard.

Instead of him letting me move away though, his hand grips my hip tighter, pulling me back to him. He’s rock hard, pressing through the thin barrier of his boxers and pajama pants. Holy crap. Maybe he does want this. He just feels like he shouldn’t.

Jason moves his face closer to mine, so close I can sense his shallow breaths on my lips. Is this happening?

“Fuck it,” he breathes, and then his lips are on mine. I barely have time to react to the fact that he’s kissing me, before I’m tangling myself in him.

My mouth opens, letting him in, my hand moving from his chest to tangle in his short hair, holding him to me.

My leg lifts, hooking on his hip, pulling his body into my core.

I react more than I think at this moment.

He tastes so good, minty and fresh. Our lips twist and move together, and then the realization hits me. I’m kissing Jason. Jason is kissing me.

Holy shit.

I don’t let my brain take over though, I give into his indescribable caress.

“Fallon,” Jason breathes into my mouth, and I will never get enough of hearing my name fall from his lips.

I pull him even closer, trying my hardest to keep any sort of contact with him.

The contact is short lived, because Jason breaks us apart.

My lips tingle from the loss, and my leg is still wrapped around his body, my hand still twined in his hair.

“What are we doing?” Jason asks.

I don’t answer right away. “Seeking comfort from another person?” I finally reply.

“I…” Jason pauses. “I can’t give you more than this, more than tonight, Fallon.”

“I can’t either,” I reply. “I’m busy enough as it is. I can’t offer you a relationship, or someone you can rely on. Presley is my entire world. She’s my focus.”

“So, we agree. Just tonight?”

“Just tonight,” I say. We both know this is a one time thing. Even though there’s a niggling in my heart telling me I want more, I shove it away.

Lips crash back down onto mine, and I let go of those thoughts, and lose myself in him again.

My hand moves down his face, the roughness of his five o’clock shadow bristling on my skin.

Jason’s lips are expertly tangled in mine, and I’ve never been kissed like this.

So slow, yet so passionate and full of lust. It makes me wonder what it would have been like to kiss him that night at the Christmas party.

Would it have been soft like this? Or would it have been fast, hurried and eager?

My leg is still wrapped around his body, holding him so close to me. Wetness pools at my core, my clit throbbing, aching to be touched. Jason’s hand on my hip moves, sliding around the hem of my sleep shorts. He slides up under my shirt, up the soft skin of my stomach.

I’m thankful we’re swathed in darkness, or I admit, there would be a lot more self consciousness.

I have a lot of resentment toward my body.

I know I’ve done incredible things with it.

I carried and birthed my beautiful daughter, but after my marriage to Brad, he didn’t exactly help me instill confidence in myself.

All the remarks about the weight I’d gained since Presley was born, and the stretch marks and cellulite that didn’t go away sit fresh in my mind.

I try not to let it get to me, but it does.

But I can’t think of that now. I’m finally getting what a younger me dreamt of.

Jason’s hand is further up my top now, his large palm cupping my breasts. They’re heavy in his hand, and he tweaks my nipples, pulling and making them even more sensitive. Jolts of unbridled pleasure make their way through my body, landing between my thighs where I’m starting to ache for his touch.

“Jase, please,” I moan, needing more of him. “I need you to touch me.”

He chuckles against my lips. “I’m touching you, sunshine.”

I let out an annoyed groan. “You know what I mean.”