No Two Are Alike

14 | no two are alike

Jack wasn't a rule breaker.

He flossed twice a day. He always streamed films legally, and he never cut the queue at Tesco. And he was — crucially — one of the 0.01% of people in the world that actually read the Terms and Conditions on forms. Just in case.

But right now, Jack wanted to shatter the rules.

Every. Single. One.

He crushed Chloe to his chest, until their bodies were flush against one another. He could feel her pulse racing. She moaned. Or maybe it was him. Jack no longer cared.

He made a desperate noise at the back of his throat. He couldn't seem to stop. Couldn't stop his hands from roaming over her skin, from burying in her hair. Chloe kissed like she skated: without a hint of clumsiness. Everything was deliberate. Calculated. Mischief sparked in her eyes as she nibbled his neck, and his breath caught in his throat.

This woman was going to be the end of him.

"Chloe," he gasped. "Wait."

She didn't wait. Instead, she looked at Jack impishly before kissing a blazing path along his neck. Jack groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. She knew exactly what sort of effect she had on him, he realized dizzily. And she was going to milk it for all it was worth.

Why was that so damn sexy?

Jack forced himself to breathe. He had to stop this. Right now. Because if it kept going, he didn't think he'd have to strength to do so.

"Stop," he said raggedly, lurching back.

This time, Chloe did.

"What is it?"

She was peering up at him through her sooty lashes. God damn those lashes. They would kill him one day. And Jack would happily let them.

"We can't," he repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because..." His brain felt thick. Fuzzy. "Well, because..."

"Because?" she prompted.

"Because I want to wait," he blurted.

Chloe gave him an odd look. Slowly, she clambered off his lap, retreating to her stool. She crossed her arms. "You want to wait?" she repeated. "You, Logan Winters?"

Jack flinched. "Yes."

"You've never waited a day in your life for anything."

"Well, you're different."

Chloe softened. Jack could feel the heat draining from his body, leaving a crippling cold in its wake. His throat felt suddenly tight. What the hell had he just done?

"That's sweet," she murmured. "Unexpectedly sweet, actually."

He closed his eyes. Ah, crumbs.

"Do you have a balcony?" he asked abruptly. "Let's go outside."

Jack was suddenly desperate for fresh air. The kitchen was stifling, and his breathing was hard. Among other parts of him. God, he needed a cold shower. But a blast of chilly London air would have to do for now.

Chloe didn't have a balcony; Jack knew that, obviously.

But she did have a roof.

As if on cue, Chloe glanced upwards. "What about the gingerbread house?"

"It can wait."

"Okay." She scooped up her glass of wine. "Let's go."

He trailed her up a rickety fire escape, trying not to notice the way her dress hitched up her thighs. He gritted his teeth. Stupid dress. Stupid Zara. The company was clearly trying to give him a premature heart attack.