illicit affairs // Taylor Swift

Holly

Jackson's new place is sparse. I knew that it would be but knowing something and seeing it with your own eyes is two very different things.

The couch was delivered, courtesy of Grinder and his truck, first thing this morning. We stocked Jackson up with food, did a final walkthrough with Brax and his two adorable kids, and now we're standing in his bedroom.

Staring at the plain mattress that was just delivered.

He doesn't even have a box spring or a frame. Just a queen-sized mattress on the ground. The new blue bedding he picked out is sitting in a bag on the floor next to it but neither of us have made the move to unpack it. I'm not sure what's holding us back.

Or do I?

My stomach is in knots standing next to him. A bedroom is such a vulnerable place in a person's house. You sleep there, unconscious to what may be happening around you. You dress, exposing yourself to the four walls surrounding you and possibly to whoever you may allow entrance. Special memories are stashed here, kept in closets or drawers, photo album and frames. This is where things are hidden, if you have things to hide.

And I'm standing in the middle of Jackson's sanctuary. He hasn't even ventured into mine. Not that I feel the need to keep him out, but it feels strange to me when my mom is around to drag Jackson back to my room. I don't even know how to navigate taking a guy into my bedroom. Yet here I am standing in his.

Jackson makes the first move. He picks up the bag of bedding.

"I probably should have washed these first," he says as he removes the packaging. "Too late now. I guess I could start a load in the morning. Good thing there's a laundry room in the basement."

"Yeah," I say, awkwardly. I grab a pillow and a pillowcase and start stuffing.

"Maybe I should have splurged for the rest of the bed."

I shrug.

"It seemed like a waste of money for something that might be-." Jackson cuts himself off but his hesitation gets my attention.

"Might be what?"

He swallows, not making eye-contact. "Um, not permanent."

My turn to swallow. "Oh." I can't help the disappointment in my voice. I knew this to an extent. I knew that he was trying things out for a while, not knowing how his job would turn out, or if he could make a go of working for himself. To hear it out loud, while standing in his naked bedroom on the first day in his apartment, feels like a blow.

"I shouldn't have said it that way."

I force myself to look at him. "It's okay, Jackson. I know you're still figuring things out." I silently include myself in that statement. We're still learning what we are to each other. It's so early in our relationship, even though we knew each other as kids. So many years apart might as well be like meeting someone for the first time.

Jackson drops the sheet he'd been situating on the bed and walks to stand in front of me. Taking me in his arms and pulling me close.

"That's not what I meant. You are not someone I'm figuring out. I meant, this apartment. This set up." He pulls back to lean down and look me in the eye. "You're way more important than a temporary person in my life."

I nod, needing a second to settle my racing heart. Not that its possible with Jackson this close. He sets everything within me on fire. I can't just douse it on command.

"I'm getting the feeling you don't believe me," he whispers.

I lean into him, putting my arms around him. "I do. And I understand. This isn't what you expected when you came back to town."

"I wasn't expecting anything. Zero expectations. But I found you."

I sigh. My head is against his chest, my arms around his waist, as he lays his cheek on the top of my head.

"Holly, I've never needed anyone. But I need you. I can't put it into words or describe what having you in my arms does to me. It's a need so deep, I didn't know it was possible."

I shake at his confession. My entire body reacts to every word.

"I need you, too." Something about this feels like we're saying more than three words about need. It's closer to love. I sense these confessions are more impactful to our 'right now' than declarations of undying love could be. If he's never needed anyone the way he needs me, doesn't that mean he'll do what it takes to make this real?

Permanent?

I don't speak these words into existence, rather I turn my head to face him, to touch his lips with my own.

While standing next to his unmade bed, in his apartment where we're all alone now.

The way this kiss progresses from gentle and sweet to deep and longing makes my head spin. He cups my face, tilting our heads for a better angle. My hands slide up his back, under his shirt, along his warm skin. Then his fingers comb into my hair, pulling out my ponytail, the hair cascading across my shoulders.

"I love the way this feels," he says as his lips move to my neck and his fingers continue wrapping themselves into my locks. "So soft. So sweet."

"My neck or my hair?" I manage the words even though his touch leaves me breathless.

"Both." His words are a declaration and somehow unleash whatever he'd been holding back. He reaches down, grabs my ass and lifts me up so my legs wrap around his waist. "I want to toss you onto my bed so fucking bad," he says gruffly, "but it's too low to the ground."

I mourn the lack of a bed frame now that he's put the image in my mind. Before I can express my sorrow at the loss, Jackson lowers himself into a squat and tries tossing me just like he'd said.

"Ungh," he groans as he reaches for his back. "That was stupid."

"Are you okay?" I push myself up trying to get to him. His eyes cut to mine, heat filling his piercing gaze.

"I'm fine. Just pulled a muscle." Jackson freezes in place, eyes locked on me like a lion waiting to pounce.

"Oh-kay." His stillness gives me pause. "What is it?"

"I'm not taking this lightly."

"What?"

"You're too important to me. I don't want you to ever have regrets. Not with me."

I nod. "Jackson, all of this, the time we spend together, the things we share with each other, the way you look at me... It's the most important." Does he understand what I'm saying? That I could never regret a second I spend with him?

I watch Jackson hold himself from me, that sense of intense focus much less than it was just minutes ago. He's pulling away and I don't understand why when I know without a shadow of a doubt, he was seconds away from ravaging me.

And I am more than ready to be ravaged.

"Holly," his threadbare voice barely heard in the silent room. "I don't want this to happen on a mattress on the floor of my pathetic apartment."

I glance around the room, taking a long look at the fresh paint and clean floor, the lack of cobwebs or cracks. There's no trash strewn around or dirty clothes dropped haphazardly. Something I have all too much experience living in.

"Why not? Looks pretty good to me."

Jackson's jaw drops. "But it's so...empty."

"Of junk and clutter and dirt that makes my skin crawl with the need to clean? Damn straight it is."

His brow furrows a split second before sputtering into laughter. "Seriously?"

On my knees, I scoot toward the end of the bed so I can pull him down on top of me. I'm half successful only because he throws his hands out to catch himself.

"I don't want to crush you, baby."

"What if I want to be crushed?" The thought of his weight on top of me, pressing me into the mattress, does things. Deliciously sinful things.

"Who are you?" He looks dumbfounded. "What happened to the quiet girl who could hardly make eye contact with me when she set foot into the shop all those weeks ago? Now you're begging me to crush you into the mattress?"

"Who's begging? And you know what they say." I smirk, loving having the upper hand with him for once.

"No, what do they say?"

I pull his head down close so my lips touch his ear and whisper.

"It's always the quiet ones."

Jackson pulls back to look down at me, eyes wide. I don't bother saying anything else when I grab him by the nape of the neck and pull his lips to mine. I'm the aggressor this time. I'm showing him exactly how excited I am that his apartment is clean but sparse. It has nothing to do with my surroundings and everything to do with the fact that he's willing. He's trying.

He's here. For me.

It takes no time at all for Jackson to sink into the kiss and take it from wild and passionate to blazing hot. He licks into my mouth like I'm the tastiest treat on Earth. We can't get enough of each other...until my shirt comes off. I don't think either of us realized we were both pulling it up from the hem until it was over my head and tossed onto the floor. I glance at it, feeling just fine if this is how the floor gets littered. I won't complain. I turn back to find Jackson looking at me in awe.

"Are you sure?"

I don't answer. I don't take my eyes off his. Instead I rise off the mattress just enough to reach one hand behind me and unclasp my bra. Then I lay back down to slide the straps from one shoulder as I watch Jackson's eyes lock onto the motion. Then I watch as he moves his gaze to the other shoulder in kind. But in my entire life, I will never, ever forget the look on his face when I slide the bra all the way off and add it to the pile with my shirt.

The emotion is wiped from his face as he brings a hand up to cup me gently. His eyes close as he uses his fingers to see me, to explore. Mine close as well at the sensation of his touch. It feels like worship. His head dips as he brings his mouth to my skin, the experience of that first bit of heat and wet wrapped up together causing me to moan.

"My favorite sound in the world."

With my eyes still closed, I rasp a response. "Keep doing that then. You'll hear it a bunch more."

He growls in approval, in the sexiest move he wraps his arm around my back to haul me up the mattress as he finally wins the upper hand. I'm not skilled in any seduction scenarios. I don't know what I'm doing in any way other than the basics. But this man draws the inner temptress out of me and makes me yearn.

Little by little, with some kind of superhuman restraint, our clothes peel off one piece at a time. I'm not sure how either of us hold back the way we do but the reward each time one more item joins the rest in a pile is absolutely worth it. It's a slow foreplay with promises of more.

The last of our clothing comes off. Jackson stills all motion to take me in. I do the same with him. Then our eyes find each other again. The story we wordlessly tell is one of amazement that this moment has arrived.

And I was right.

The delicious pressure of Jackson's weight is everything I thought it would be. The way his body moves over mine, with me, leaves me breathless.

He's the one I've been waiting for. All the dreams I had of him coming back to me have come true.

A little more spice than my usual, so I hope I didn't catch you off guard! Even though it's pretty tame by spice standards. Is there a half spice emoji? 🌶 Guess not.

I've got to be honest with you, Jackson and Holly heated up way sooner than I expected when I pictured this story. As a result, I've written myself into a bit of a corner. I have ideas and plans but it remains to be seen if I can truly pull off the story I had in my head. And I promise to catch up on your comments! You had some great thoughts and reactions. I've seen them but life is super busy so I haven't been able to keep up.

This is not an illicit affair. They are not sneaking around or deceiving anyone. But, something about this song spoke to me with this chapter so I used it. I'm not even sure what it was other than the melody. It could be something subconscious, though. I wouldn't be surprised to be honest.

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THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! ❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰