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out as he pulled me so tight I could feel every last hot inch of him inside of me.
    As usual, the sound of my orgasm forced his.  A savage, guttural moan ripped from his throat as he came, spasms rippling his hard body before he let its weight collapse onto me, once again the security blanket I had loved for so many years.

Chapter Seven
    On our last day in Ibiza, my lips woke Jackson with a warm good morning wrapped around his cock.  I reveled in the sound of him rumbling awake and immediately groaning with pleasure.  “Oh… fuck, babe.”  His blue eyes were electric as he lifted his head to get a visual on the sensation enveloping his morning wood.  “Christ, babe, yes…” His fingers raked through my hair, grabbing fistfuls that grew tighter and tighter as I took him deeper and deeper in my mouth.  I had woken up hot, eager to please him.  I wanted to give my fiancé every last bit of pleasure I could offer.  Gripping his shaft, I stroked, my mouth pumping up and down with my hands.
    “ Fuck , yes.  Keep sucking.  Just like that,” Jackson grunted, his six-pack flexed as he watched me.  When he came, I slid him out and pressed a kiss onto his pulsing helmet, relishing the sensation of his rich warmth pumping in thick ribbons onto my lips.  “Holy fucking shit, baby.”  Jackson watched with unblinking awe as I licked them clean.  “Fuck, baby,” he grinned, catching his breath.  “I can’t fucking wait to make you Lara Kinsley.”
    When we finally emerged from our bedroom around 2PM, we were greeted with smug, knowing looks from our friends.  Caleb laughed at the lazy satisfaction still spread across Jackson’s face.  He and Sloane raised their drinks at us while the others loudly clapped.  I rolled my eyes and laughed but felt a quick frown pinch my brows when I caught Sawyer’s reaction.  He was usually the leader of this kind of mischief but today he simply sat back, stoic, expressionless.  When I caught his eye, he looked away and took a long swig of his beer.  Where’s my happy Sawyer? What’s going on? I wanted desperately to ask him and prayed that we’d get at least a minute alone at some point in the day, but we didn’t, and I forced myself to brush it off.  He’s just in an odd place since he broke up with his girlfriend.  It has nothing to do with me.
    ~
    On our first full day back in New York, Sloane organized a dinner in celebration of my engagement.  “Wives and girlfriends only, because we need to be able to talk at length about your future wedding dress,” she said.
    I was all for it.  But I hadn’t mentally prepared to see Sofie Winter.  She hadn’t attended any of our functions since the night that I had broken into Gabrielle’s apartment – the night that Gabrielle had gone missing.  My stomach went instantly cold when I caught sight of her, polished as usual and wearing her million-dollar smile despite looking visibly thinner, aged.  Guilt weighed in my stomach as I opened my arms to welcome her embrace.
    “Don’t laugh, Lara, but I actually cried when Sloane told me about the news!” she giggled girlishly.  “I’ve always loved you and Jackson together.  You were made for him.  We all thought he was perfect already but when you came along, he was complete.”
    “Sofie,” I exhaled with a trembling smile.  My eyes welled and I told myself it was because of her kind words, not because of my nagging fear that it had been me.  That in my wild, blind rage that night, I had somehow led to her daughter’s death.  No, no, no.  That thought existed only in the dark place that I’d managed to escape for the entirety of Ibiza.  I wanted to stay out of that place.  Forever.  Pulling away from Sofie, I forced myself to smile wide.  “This calls for some drinks, doesn’t it?”
    I was on an empty stomach so thankfully, the first round of champagne cured my nerves.  Over Moët and carpaccio, we spent the evening talking about Jackson instead