Chapter 122
Ellie's POV
Slowly, naturally, we leaned into each other. Jackson's arms came around me, and I let myself sink into his embrace, my head finding its perfect spot against his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath my ear—faster than normal, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
The room around us seemed to shrink until it was just us, just this moment. The distant sound of Christmas music from a neighbor's house. The soft glow of my bedside lamp. The rise and fall of Jackson's chest as he breathed.
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Then another to my forehead. His lips trailed to my temple, my cheekbone, the tip of my nose. Each kiss was feather-light, testing, asking silent questions.
I tilted my face up, answering.
Our lips met, and it was like coming home and venturing into unknown territory all at once. This kiss was deeper than any we'd shared before, more urgent. Jackson's hand slid to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, and I felt my back arch slightly, pressing closer.
His other hand found my waist, fingers splaying across the small of my back, and suddenly I was hyperaware of every point of contact between us.
Jackson broke the kiss, breathing hard. But instead of pulling away, his lips found the curve of my jaw, trailing down to that sensitive spot just below my ear.
"Jackson," I breathed, and was shocked by how wrecked my voice sounded.
He made a sound low in his throat—something between a growl and a groan that sent electricity down my spine. His teeth grazed my earlobe, and I literally couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped.
"We could just..." His voice was rough, barely recognizable. His breath was hot against my ear, sending shivers cascading through me. "Let things happen naturally. If you want."
It wasn't quite a question. It was an invitation. A promise. A plea.
Thalia was practically howling in my mind, every instinct screaming yes, yes, YES. The mate sense pulsed between us, thick with want, and I could feel Orion on the other side—demanding, insistent, barely restrained.
My rational mind knew I should say no. Should pull back. Should remember that we were in my parents' house, that this was moving too fast, that—
But then Jackson's lips found that spot right behind my ear, and rational thought scattered like leaves in the wind.
"I—" The word came out as half-breath, half-moan, a sound I'd never made before. My hands clutched at his shoulders, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
Through the sense, I felt the exact moment Orion surged forward. Felt Jackson's control waver, slip—
His hand, which had been resting safely at my waist, began to move. Slowly, hesitantly, it slid upward along my ribcage, fingers trembling with restraint. Every nerve in my body ignited as his palm curved over my breast, the heat of his touch burning through the thin fabric of my pajama top.
I froze.
Not in fear. Not in rejection. But in complete, overwhelming shock at the sensation—at how right it felt and how utterly unprepared I was for it. My breath caught in my throat. My heart hammered so hard I was certain he could feel it against his palm.
Want this, Thalia whispered urgently. Need this. But—
But I didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to respond. Every instinct screamed at me to arch into his touch, to make some sound, to do something—but my body remained locked in place, caught between desire and inexperience.
Through the bond, I felt Jackson register my stillness. Felt his consciousness sharpen, cutting through the fog of desire like a blade.
He went rigid.
His hand stilled completely, neither advancing nor retreating. His breathing was ragged against my neck, his entire body taut as a bowstring. I could feel the exact moment awareness crashed over him—the realization of where his hand was, what he was doing, how I'd frozen beneath his touch.
"No," I managed to whisper, my voice shaky but urgent. "Jackson, no. I'm not—I don't—"
How could I explain? That I wanted this but didn't know how to want it? That my body was screaming yes while my mind scrambled to catch up?
His forehead pressed harder against mine, and I heard him swallow hard. When he spoke, his voice was barely recognizable—rough, strained, fighting for control. "Ellie. Tell me to stop. Please."
"I don't want you to stop," I breathed, honest even in my confusion. "I just—I've never—"
Understanding flooded the bond. Not relief, but something more complex—tenderness mixed with restraint, desire tempered by fierce protectiveness.
"I know," he said softly. His hand remained perfectly still. "I know, sweetheart. And that's exactly why I need to stop."
Slowly, carefully, he withdrew his hand. The loss of contact made me want to whimper, but I understood. Through the bond, I felt his internal battle—Orion raging, demanding, while Jackson's human consciousness fought to regain dominance.
His whole body was shaking now, fine tremors running through his muscles. I could see the flash of gold in his eyes, could feel how close he was to losing control completely.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I promised I would respect you, and I almost—"
"Stop apologizing," I interrupted, my own voice steadier now. I cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at me. "You didn't do anything wrong. I wanted—I want—" Heat flooded my cheeks, but I pushed through. "I'm just... new at this. And I froze. But not because I didn't want it."
The words hung between us, honest and vulnerable. Through the bond, I poured everything I couldn't articulate—the desire, the fear, the overwhelming newness of it all.
Jackson's expression softened, though the gold in his eyes still flickered. He brought one hand up to cover mine against his cheek, his thumb stroking my wrist where my pulse raced.
He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to my palm. "But not here. Not like this." His eyes met mine, intense and certain. "I promised your parents—promised you—that I'd respect the boundaries. And I meant it."
The bond flooded with his determination, his respect, his love—
Love.
The realization hit me like a physical force. This wasn't just attraction or mate bonds or biology. This was Jackson choosing me, choosing us, even when every instinct screamed at him to do otherwise.
"Okay," I breathed, and let him guide me back to my bed.
He waited until I was settled under the covers before returning to his pallet on the floor. But he kept one hand extended toward me, and I reached down to take it, our fingers intertwining.
Through the bond, I felt his steady resolve. His protective instincts. The simmer of desire that hadn't quite faded but was now firmly under control. And underneath it all, that same deep certainty I'd just recognized.
Not yet, the bond seemed to whisper. But someday. When the time is right. When we're ready.
Thalia settled in my mind, no longer pushing for more. She understood, in her way, that this waiting was important. That Jackson's restraint wasn't rejection—it was respect.
"Goodnight, my mate," Jackson murmured into the darkness, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand.
I smiled, squeezing his fingers. "Goodnight, Jackson."