Jackson wakes me up the next morning by running his strong hand up the back of my thigh.
It takes me a half second to realize I'm not in my bed back home anymore, but then I roll over and open my eyes to his chiseled face and remind myself, This is your home now.
"Morning, sunshine." Somehow, Jackson doesn't look like he just woke up; he looks like he just stepped off a catwalk. I, on the other hand, can tell my hair is a bee's nest, and I desperately need to brush my teeth.
"How do you look so handsome already?" I ask. "When I look like I just got run over by a truck?"
"I've been up for an hour," Jackson laughs. "Business. And you look like a goddess. Don't kid yourself."
"Stop," I giggle. I try to get up, but Jackson pushes me back down with one hand as he climbs into bed and tugs d
