Madly & the Jackal by M. Leighton

was going through my head as I circled the shallows for hours, waiting for you?  Do you have any idea what that was like?”
    If I hadn’t been sobbing, my voice would’ve been raised to the point of alerting Jersey.  But as it was, I could barely breathe past the lump in my throat.  Too much had happened too fast lately.  Losing Jackson—or even the thought of losing Jackson—was the last straw.
    As quickly as it had arrived, the anger drained away, leaving only raw emotion in its wake.  Covering my face with my hands, I dissolved into the torrential downpour of tears that had been threatening for what seemed like an eternity. 
    I felt Jackson’s arms come around me and pull me to him, his hands rubbing soothing circles over my back.  And I cried.  And I cried.  And I cried.
    He whispered unintelligible things into the quiet room.  He brushed his lips against my hair.  He swayed gently back and forth.  He went through all the right motions, but none of them calmed the thing I hadn’t told him about, the one thing that had begun to bother me almost as much as the rest. 
    As I thought of it, I began crying afresh, afraid that somehow being forced to marry me had done something to alter the way Jackson felt about me.  My rational mind assured me that it made no sense, but I was overwrought and my emotions were behind the wheel.
    “What is it?” he asked, having noticed my renewed misery.
    I shook my head as I sobbed.
    “Madly, what is it?”
    Again, I shook my head but said nothing.  Not only was it humiliating, I was secretly afraid he might confirm it.
    “Tell me, Madly.  What is it?”  When still I didn’t answer, Jackson bent to scoop me up into his arms and carry me to the bed. He sat down, cradling me in his lap as he stroked my hair with his free hand.  “Please tell me, baby,” he whispered, his voice sounding nearly as tortured as I felt.
    With a finger beneath my chin, Jackson urged my face up until our eyes met.  He looked genuinely concerned and it touched me in an unexpected way.
    I tried to control my trembling chin, but it was no use.  “I’m afraid that you don’t want me anymore.  That something has changed and you don’t want me…like that anymore.”
    Blood rushed to my cheeks and I buried my hot face against his chest to await his dreaded response.
    “Madly, I told you I want your first time to be special and—”
    “With you, it would be special no matter what,” I mumbled.
    “But I want more for you.  I want—”
    “Something we may never have, time we may never have.”
    Jackson didn’t respond for a distressing amount of time.  My heart sank with each second that ticked by.  I was right.  Things had changed.  He had no argument for me because it was all true.
    When he shifted me off his lap, I wanted to get up and run right out the door and into the night, never to return again.  A bullet to the heart couldn’t have hurt any worse than the pain of his rejection.
    But then his lips were on mine.  They were light as a summer breeze and twice as warm.  They fluttered over my mouth, my nose, my forehead and my cheeks before returning to my lips.  They were hovering there, a breath away when he spoke. 
    “I’ve never wanted anyone so much in all my life.  And I never will again.  We belong together, Madly.  Always.”
    And then he kissed me.  Really kissed me.  I was breathless in seconds.  My lips fell open and his tongue slid in to tangle with mine as he eased me onto my back.  He stretched out beside me, one knee coming to settle between mine, opening my legs to his explorations.
    I wore nothing under Jackson’s shirt.  I felt his palm the instant it hit my thigh and it burned like a branding iron with every inch that it ascended, dragging my only clothing up with it. 
    His hand slipped under my butt and lifted, just enough to ease his shirt from beneath me and push it up to my ribs.  His fingers danced over my stomach and up the valley