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bitters-n-sweets · 9 days ago

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was it ever fake? — jack abbot x fem!reader You and Jack unexpectedly meet at a friend’s wedding weekend. Jack starts a game of pretend-relationship out of boredom. And that’s it…right?

warnings: fake dating trope, one bed trope, 18+ mdni, smut, mutual pining, masturbation (f), p in v sex, shower sex, unprotected, wrap it before ya tap it, not proofread at all, slight voyeurism, fingering, breeding kink if you squint, age gap implied-not specified, reader is a fellow, Jackson Avery cameo, purely self indulgent, fluff, just a feel good fic a/n: I made a vacation fic for Robby and have been dying to make one for Jack, so this is it. And I wanted to make two parts, but I figured one very long one would be better soooo enjoy! wc: 8.6k+ ok this one got away from me a bit masterlist

Day one

A whole weekend to celebrate marriage. You smile to yourself when you see the wedding invitation, thick ivory paper, embossed with gold leaf and tied with satin ribbon, with your friend’s name and her soon-to-be husband; Amy and Harry. When Amy first mentioned she was inviting you to the wedding, you said yes without hesitation, you just didn’t expect it to be a weekend long wedding.

Your cab rounds a hill, revealing a secluded five-star resort hotel tucked between towering pines. The stone pathways are lit with fairy lights, and the air smells like lavender and fresh earth. Amy’s always wanted her wedding to have an enchanted forest theme, and it looks like she got it.

You step out of the cab and are immediately greeted by hotel staff.

“Welcome,” one of them says with a polite smile. “May I have your last name for check-in?”

You walk to the counter and give your name, soaking in the view of the forest from the grand lobby. That’s when you catch a glimpse of a familiar profile just a few feet away, checking in as well. His broad shoulders and back is unmistakable.

“Jack?”

The man turns. His brows lift when he sees you. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

A smile pulls at your lips. “Nice to see you too.”

He laughs, slinging his weekend bag more comfortably over one shoulder. He’s wearing a simple, dark henley, jeans, and boots, and you curse yourself for how long you’re staring at his forearms. “What are you doing here?”

You gesture toward the resort. “I was invited. My friend Amy’s getting married. We’ve been close since high school. You?”

“I was Harry’s attending for a few years.” He says, “we go on morning runs together.”

You both stand there, processing. “Well,” you say, “small world.”

“You here alone?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah. I figured a three-day wedding was too much for a plus-one.”

You actually don’t have anyone to ask.

“Yeah… same,” he says.

You adjust your jacket and glance up at him. “Well. Looks like we’re each other’s only familiar face this weekend.”

Jack glances at you sideways, a smile playing on his lips. “Could be worse.”

Just then, the check-in staff hands over your key cards, and you go your separate ways, promising to catch each other later at night.

The first night of the wedding weekend is a casual dinner, just something to help everyone unwind after the long drive. There’s no assigned seating, no pressure, just softly lit tables scattered across the area and the low hum of laughter and clinking glasses.

You scan the crowd and spot Jack near the open bar, standing with his hands in his pockets, waiting on a drink.

You smooth your dress—wait, why? Your brows furrow. It’s just Jack. You work with him every day. You’ve seen him elbow-deep in trauma, yelling over chest compressions, running on three hours of sleep.

But you’ve never seen him like this. Standing there, wearing a nicely fitted navy button-up, the sleeves casually rolled past his elbows, the fabric pulls across his chest when he crosses his arms, and a glimpse of veins and muscle you’re trying very hard not to stare at. The light hits his hair just right. He looks…too good. Your mouth suddenly feels dry.

You swallow and start walking before your thoughts get any more dangerous.

He looks over just as you approach. “You look great.” Jack compliments.

“First time seeing me not in scrubs, Jack?”

He smiles, glancing away for just a second, “No, but not like this. You look beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks flush. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

You’re about to order yourself a drink when Jack’s already flagged the bartender down. “Margarita, extra salt?”

You try to hide your smile. “Yes, please.”

It was months ago, when Shen made attending and everyone’d gone out to celebrate. You didn’t plan on getting drunk, so you stood back with Jack. He noticed your empty hands, then made it a game: guess your favorite drink by your expression alone. You ended up sharing ten drinks between you, laughing harder with each one, until he got it right—margarita, extra salt. You’d both been drunk by the end, but you’d remembered the way his eyes crinkled when you called him a sore loser. You’d remembered that night more than you probably should have.

And he hasn’t forgotten.

“You still remember my drink.” You point out.

He smirks, “Hard to forget when it took me 10 guesses.”

“And one hell of a good time?” You offer.

“With you?” He chuckles. “Always.”

You and Jack spend dinner at a small table for two, the buzz of the crowd fading into background noise. It’s the first time you’ve really talked—not flirted, not exchanged sarcastic quips in between traumas, but talked. About life outside the hospital. Your childhood. Books he reads when he can’t sleep. The way you like your coffee. How you both hate the same podcasts. It's easy and warm, and a little addictive.

You’ve never seen this side of him before. It makes it harder not to like him more than you already do.

It shouldn’t feel like this—any of this. But it does. Like a date. Like a weekend away together for a couple in love. You catch it in the way his eyes keep drifting to your lips, the way he hovers protectively when guiding you through the crowd, the quiet smiles he gives you when no one else is looking.

Whatever this is, it’s not just you. It’s different for him, too.

You’re in the middle of a conversation about some travel mishap of his when you hear a familiar squeal.

“Oh my God, you made it!”

You stand to greet your friend—Amy, glowing with excitement, bouquet swapped for a champagne flute. “Congratulations,” you beam, hugging her tightly. “Amy, I’m so happy for you. And this wedding? It’s like a Pinterest board came to life.”

She laughs, squeezing you back. “I’m so glad you’re here. And I want to let you know, if I’d done bridesmaids, you’d have been first on the list.”

You smile, touched. Meanwhile, Harry’s pulling Jack into a bro-hug.

“Wait,” Amy blinks, looking between the two of you. “You know Jack?”

“He’s my attending at PTMC.”

“Small world.” Harry comments, and Amy squints, connecting the dots. She glances between you and Jack, then grins like she’s just solved a puzzle.

“Wait a minute—are you guys… together?”

“Oh n—”

“Looks we’ve been found out.” Jack cuts in smoothly, sending you a wink.

You give him a questioning look. This was never something you talked about or planned, so you think he’s trying to pull a prank on you, or… nothing. You have no idea what’s going on.

“OMG since when??” Amy gasps.

“Only been a few months. Nearing a year.” He says.

A year???

Amy bumps your shoulder, “And you didn’t tell me?? I could’ve put you guys in one of the bigger, nicer rooms!”

“I—I…” You stammer.

“I suggested not to tell anyone,” Jack saves you. He somehow sounds like he has this all planned out. “Didn’t want to risk her reputation, you know.”

Harry nods understandingly. “Right, especially with your exams coming up.”

You chuckle nervously, “Ah, yeah… still need to take the exams.”

“You’re gonna do great.” Amy clasps your hands, “You’re the smartest person I know, you’re gonna ace it.”

You smile, flustered but grateful. The conversation turns to easier things—honeymoons, the venue, the resort spa—and eventually Amy and Harry are off to greet the next table.

“What the hell?” As soon as they’re gone, you turn to Jack with a half-laugh, half-glare. “So we’re in a relationship now?”

He leans back in his chair, fighting a grin. “Figured it’d be a good way to make the weekend interesting.”

You blink at him. “You couldn’t have warned me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Besides… you didn’t say no.”

You want to argue—but you don’t. So you just try to hide a smile behind your margarita and look away.

The night winds down quietly. Amy’s sister plays a photo montage of Amy growing up, meeting Harry, and their early years together, while Harry steps up to thank everyone for coming. The staff announces tomorrow’s rundown: free time until 5PM, when the ceremony begins in the garden, and then gently ushers everyone to get some rest.

You and Jack are making your way back toward your rooms when Harry catches up to you, grinning.

“Hey,” he says, handing you a small card. “Quick thing.”

You blink, taking the card. Your brows immediately pull together.

“What’s this?”

“An upgrade,” Harry beams. “Amy and I moved you guys to one of the nicer suites. It’s bigger, better view. Our little gift.”

Your stomach dips. “Oh no, Harry—seriously, that’s really sweet but we can’t—”

“Come on,” he waves a hand. “Let me do this. For my wife’s best friend,” he says to you, then claps a hand on Jack’s shoulder, “—and for my greatest mentor. You’re both our dear friends.”

You glance at Jack, silently begging him to say something—to fix this—but he looks just as stunned.

“Harry—” Jack starts.

“Nope,” Harry cuts him off, walking backward with a grin. “Already moved your bags. Enjoy!”

He disappears before either of you can stop him.

You and Jack stand there for a moment, staring at the spot where Harry had just been.

You turn slowly. “We’re terrible people.”

Jack lifts a brow. “We? You didn’t exactly stop me back at dinner.”

You gape at him. “You said we were dating out of nowhere! What was I supposed to do?”

He smirks. “You could’ve denied it.”

“I was stunned! You lied so confidently I thought I had missed something.”

He chuckles and starts walking again. “Come on, let’s check out this palace we’ve been gifted.”

And you find out soon enough—he wasn’t exaggerating.

The suite is beautiful. Massive windows overlook the forest, soft yellow lighting glows from fixtures built from stone and wood. There’s a sunken living room with a couch, a cozy fireplace, a soaking tub the size of a car, and one king-sized bed with silk sheets and pillows you could drown in.

You both stop in the doorway, silently taking it in.

“Well,” Jack says after a beat, setting the key card on the entry table, “this got out of hand fast.”

“No kidding,” you mutter, though your disbelief is already turning into laughter. You sit on the edge of the bed like it might still vanish. “This your idea of a fun weekend?”

Jack undoes the first buttons of his shirt, shrugging. “Hey, I said interesting. Didn’t say how.”

You shoot him a look. “One bed.”

He nods. “I can take the couch if you want.”

You grab a pillow, chucking it at him. “You better not hog the blanket.”

You’re not scared of sharing a bed with Jack. He’s respectful, responsible—he’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable.

What you’re scared of is yourself.

Because you can’t deny the attraction. Not when he steps out of the bathroom in just a pair of low-hung sweatpants, his dog tags resting against his chest. His skin is still dewy from the shower, his hair slightly damp and curling at the ends. You try not to stare, but it's a losing battle.

And to make matters worse, you only packed the nice nightwear. Silky, a little sheer, a bit too short. You’d brought it thinking this weekend would be a quiet getaway. A solo indulgence. But clearly, plans have changed.

It’s awkwardly quiet.

“So…” You start.

“So.” He sits beside you. Still no shirt on. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess.”

You smile, sitting up a little. “A great view, a nice bathtub, and silk sheets? I wouldn’t call this a mess.”

Jack lets out a quiet chuckle.

You glance over at him, then down—he still has his prosthetic on. “You don’t take it off when you sleep?”

He hesitates. “…You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” You furrow your brows. “I’ve seen you take off your leg multiple times at work.”

“I guess… but this is different.”

“How?”

“…I don’t know,” He pauses, “It just is.”

And you kind of know what he means, but you don’t address it. Jack makes sure you’re okay with it once again before leaning forward and taking his prosthetic off. He groans in pain, and so without thinking, you reach over to help.

Jack’s breath hitches when he notices you climbing over your side of the bed and is massaging his leg. And then he sees what you’re wearing. A satin, violet nightgown, with lace decorating the hem and bust area. Spaghetti straps hang delicately off your shoulders, the fabric brushing high along your thighs. His eyes linger, his mouth slightly parted.

You feel his eyes on you. It’s only then that you realize—oh. You’re practically on top of him in this thing.

“Don’t judge me.” You mumble, “I thought I’d have a room to myself.”

“’M not.” He grunts.

That’s when you notice his flushed face, his grip on the sheets, the way his eyes flicker down your body and then guiltily back up. Your heartbeat quickens—he likes it. Maybe even wants it. You.

You move back to your side, dragging the covers up to your chest, and Jack follows, shifting under the covers, trying to will away the heat still buzzing under his skin and in his pants.

“So,” you say, trying to focus on anything else, “we’re going to have to keep this up the whole weekend?”

Jack nods. “At least to the just-married couple.”

“We’re gonna have to get them a gift from us. This room must’ve been expensive.”

He chuckles. “You’re right about that.”

“Well, we’ll be stuck with each other the whole weekend anyway.” You say. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”

Jack lets out a slow breath, trying to calm the way his pulse is racing. “We’ll manage.”

You pause. “We should probably, I don’t know… practice. So we don’t look awkward.”

He glances at you. “Practice?”

You raise an eyebrow, heat crawling up your neck. “You know. Just in case they’re watching. A kiss or two might sell it.”

Jack is awfully quiet.

“I—I mean, we— forget it.” You stammer, “I was just—”

He turns to you and leans in, eyes never leaving yours. And you’re surprised, but you don’t pull away. You close the space first, just enough to brush your lips against his, soft and uncertain.

His hand rises to your cheek, deepening the kiss. He tastes like mint and something warm, and your heart feels like it’s exploding. His thumb brushes your jaw, his mouth tilting against yours, and you barely suppress the small sound that rises in your throat.

You don’t know who breaks it first, but you part—just barely.

“…That was…” Jack starts, voice low.

You breathe out, “Convincing?”

He huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah. That’s one word for it.”

You both lay back down after that, still facing each other.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and whispers, “We should get some sleep.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Right. Yeah.”

You both shift under the covers. Careful not to touch, even though the warm feeling is still there in his skin. On your lips.

Jack stares at the ceiling, then turns to look at you, your back now facing him, your breathing shallow and uneven.

None of you can sleep, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to get through the rest of the weekend pretending as if any of this doesn’t mean something.

-----

Day two

Thankfully, Jack is not a blanket hogger.

But you are.

Sometime during the night, you must’ve robbed the covers like a seasoned thief. Because now, Jack is half-wrapped around you, as though he had to burrow under the blanket you hogged to survive the night. One leg hooked around yours. One arm draped across your ribcage, his hand resting just under your breast. The other curled under your neck like a makeshift pillow—how did that even get there?

His chest is warm and solid against your back. He’s still asleep, his breathing even, slow. His nose is near your temple, breath fanning lightly against your ear, and it takes every bit of willpower not to shift. Not to look.

Your heart, however, is pounding.

You need a cold shower. Immediately.

So you slip out of his grasp as quietly and quickly as you can, running to the shower. You immediately turn on the cold water setting, but it doesn’t help the itch between your thighs.

You try to force your mind away. Think of something else.

Work. Traumas. Codes. Blood. Bloodied gloves. Jack's hands in gloves—fuck.

You groan. Your hand wanders to where Jack’s was a few minutes ago. Just under your breast. If he had just gone up a bit… just slightly brushing your nipple, and squeezing, and pinching—you bite your lip and sigh.

Against your better judgment, two of your fingers lower to where you need it most, a small hiss escaping you as you relieve the tension. You touch yourself like you imagine he would. His rough, padded, calloused, experienced fingers toying with your clit. How he would absolutely tease and bring you over the edge just from them.

You sigh, rubbing your clit in figure eights, your other hand pinching and squeezing your breast. Your fingers move lower, quietly cursing to yourself as you feel how wet you are. It’s all for him and he’s not even here to see it. You insert one finger in, then two, and you wonder if two of Jack’s fingers would feel similar. You know it’s not the same. Your fingers curl to hit your spot, and your head hangs forward, thumb circling your clit to chase your release.

You come quickly. Easily. But it’s hollow. You’ve done this yourself so many times, and it’s just too easy for you to come. But it’s not what you want. It’s not what you need. A mere release from your fingers isn’t enough… but it’ll have to do. For now.

You finish showering and wrap yourself in one of the hotel’s bathrobes. You were in such a rush you forgot a change of clothes. When you step out of the bathroom, Jack’s already up—still shirtless, coffee in hand, standing near the window and looking out at the forest.

“Morning.” You offer.

He smiles, “Morning. You got up earlier than me.”

“That surprising?” You raise a brow.

“I’m usually an early bird.”

You towel your damp hair as you move to the vanity table. “Must’ve been really comfortable, then. Maybe the cuddling helped,” you say lightly—despite your own reaction to it—watching him in the mirror.

Jack chuckles. “I’m not the one who hogged the blanket.”

“And I guess I was just helping you sleep.” You smile, as he shakes his head. “So, what’s your plan for the day?”

“Breakfast,” he says easily. “Then maybe I’ll check out that heated pool. Care to join me?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Good.” He saunters over to you, surprising you with a lift of your chin, and pecks you lightly on your cheek. “For practice.”

And then Jack disappears into the bathroom, and you think you almost died. He’s playing with you. Teasing you. He probably knows what he does to you—and oh, Jack Abbot… two can play that game.

You rifle through your bag for something to wear. Your fingers hesitate on the safer choices… then drift toward something else.

It’s cheeky. Flirty.

But you wonder… how far can you push him before he finally cracks? Before he lets go of his self-control and gives you what you really want? So fine. You’ll wear something cute. Maybe just a little sexy. Just enough to stay innocent, but more than enough to keep you in his head all day.

A cute sundress. Spaghetti strapped, short, just enough cleavage and thigh, and most importantly, no bra. Why would you? You’re headed to the heated pool. You’ll be changing into your red bikini anyway. Your very red bikini.

You smirk to yourself.

You’re finished doing your hair just as Jack steps out wearing shorts, and a loose white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, collar open enough to hint at his chest. The man knows he looks good.

“You can swim with your leg?”

“It’s waterproof.”

“Fancy.”

“Didn’t pay for it.” He chuckles. “Ready to go?”

“Mm-hm.” You hum, bending over in front of him to put on your shoes. You can hear him curse behind you. “Ready.”

You turn to face him, and bat your eyelashes innocently, “Something wrong?”

Jack’s jaw clenches and he reaches for the key card. “…Nothing. Let’s go?”

You’re still smirking as you walk out the door—Jack trailing a step behind, and probably hating how much he’s staring.

Breakfast isn’t crowded. It’s still early—most guests are probably sleeping in, nursing hangovers or enjoying the quiet. Which is why, as you sit across Jack at your table, you dare reach over for the jam—anyone behind him would be able to see that you’re not wearing a bra. And Jack—poor Jack—almost chokes on his orange juice.

“Christ.” He coughs, eyes wide, flicking from your chest to your face like he can’t quite believe what just happened. And then a twinkle of playfulness, like he’s saying: It’s on.

You pretend nothing happened, spreading jam all over your bread and taking a bite.

Jack watches you like a man possessed. Then he leans over the table. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth slowly.

“Missed a spot,” he murmurs.

And then he sucks his thumb clean.

Your jaw drops.

It seems like you’ve silently created a game of who will fold first. And you’re both damn competitive.

Jack clears his throat, changing the topic. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

You raise your brows. “Of course.”

He leans back slightly, watching you. Not with the usual flirt or challenge in his eyes.

“How are you still single?”

The question catches you off guard. You blink, caught somewhere between flattered and exposed. But you try to cover it. “Such a serious question.” You deadpan.

He doesn’t smile. “I mean it. You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and… I don’t know, you’ve got this… thing.”

“I’ve got a thing?”

He gives you a small smile. “Like you know exactly what you want. And it’s damn attractive.”

You pause, a piece of bread halfway to your mouth.

“Wow,” you say. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me over eggs and toast.”

Jack chuckles, but his eyes stay on yours. “Still waiting on the answer, though.”

You take your time answering. Spread a little more jam, chew thoughtfully, anything to delay the way your heart’s pounding in your chest.

You take a deep breath, letting yourself open up a little. “I guess…” you start slowly, setting your knife down. “Most guys say I’m too much. They like the flirting and everything, but when things actually become real… they kinda just want the flirty and sarcastic me.”

There’s a beat of silence between you. Jack’s still looking at you—he’s known to have a staring problem, and now you see why. You won’t lie, there’s a part of you that wonder if Jack would be one of those guys. If he just wanted the flirting, non-commital chase. Maybe he’d rather pretend none of this happened when you’re back in your regular, ER lives. The thought scares you a little more than you’d like to admit.

You add, a little lighter, “Besides, you think I’ve got guys lined up just because I can make a joke and wear a dress without a bra?”

Jack’s smirk returns, but his voice stays low. “No. I think guys like the idea of a challenge—and then punish you for having standards. I think you’ve been waiting for someone who actually sees you. Not just the version they want you to be.”

You pause. His words hit harder than you expect.

“Maybe.” You say. “It’s hard to find a man like that.”

“Not as hard as you think.” Jack simply says.

You sit with his words for a moment longer, chewing on your lip.

Then, maybe a little shyly, maybe to level the playing field, you ask, “Can I ask you something?”

Jack nods, already know what you’re going to ask.

“Why are you single?” you ask, tilting your head. “You’re handsome, funny, albeit a little annoying…” you add, smiling, “That should’ve landed you someone by now.”

It’s not a teasing question, not really. You already know about his past—about the wife he lost, even if you never asked for details. But you’ve always wondered. Jack could’ve had anyone. So why… no one?

Jack’s smile fades—not completely, but just enough for you to notice. His gaze drops to his coffee, thumb brushing over the rim of the mug. “I think I just stopped looking for a while.”

You nod, quietly.

“And when I did start again…” He trails off for a second, fingers tapping lightly against his mug. “No one really felt right. Not in the way that makes me want to stay. Or try.”

“And are you?” You regret the moment that left your mouth so quickly.

“Am I what?”

Too late to back out now. “Looking for someone.”

He holds your gaze a second too long. “Yeah.”

And suddenly, breakfast doesn’t feel so light anymore.

The pool is a little crowded, but it wasn’t bad. Some kids are in the pool playing, adults are on the other side just enjoying the warm water. Jack comes back from the bathroom already shirtless, ready to soak in.

“Try not to stare too much.” He whispers to you.

“You’re the one with a staring problem.” You bump his shoulder before going to change.

Jack watches you go, running a hand through his hair. His mind drifts—Are you? Looking for someone? Your question keeps looping in his head.

God, the number of times he’s almost asked you out is countless. He’s been drawn to you since Shen’s “congrats-you-made-attending” party, when you both downed ten drinks in the booth and you told him everything. You might not remember all of it, but he remembers every second. How you laughed without holding back. How you leaned on his shoulder like it meant something. How your eyes lit up when you talked about what you loved—he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

There’s a glow in you that he wants to protect. Feed. Watch grow brighter.

But he always holds himself back. Because he’s scared if you think he might be too old for you. Not anymore. This weekend sums it up. He’s going to ask you out by the end of the week. By tomorrow.

As he watches you walk back to him, his resolve almost breaks right there. Because now he’s seeing you, in a glaring red bikini, making your way to him and time seems to slow down, it’s like he’s watching Baywatch. He has to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth.

“Try not to stare too much.” You tease him.

He groans audibly into you, his head resting on your shoulder. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never.” You fake a gasp.

You go into the water first before Jack follows. You thought Jack would be a little uncomfortable, with everyone looking at him for a longer second, some even doing a double-take because of his leg, but he seems fine with it.

You, on the other hand, seem to be glaring at everyone who looks at him a certain way or whispers after.

“Don’t worry.” Jack chuckles, “I’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” You mutter.

He smiles at that. The water’s not too deep, so you just stand on the side, watching kids splash water around each other, some are crying, and you glance at Jack.

“You ever want kids?”

Jack turns to you, the corners of his mouth twitching before he gives an honest answer. “Used to. Not anymore. Not really. You?”

You shrug. “I only want it if my partner really wants it. Our jobs don’t exactly make it easy to have family.”

He snorts. “Spot on.”

You lean back a little, water sloshing softly around you as a kid cannonballs nearby. Jack lifts an eyebrow at the splash, brushing droplets off his face.

“I honestly think I’d be a bad parent.” You admit. “I wouldn’t know what to do if my kid is misbehaving.”

He sucks in a breath, “Well, seeing how you are in the ER… I don’t think the kid would even think about misbehaving.”

“Hey!” You hit him lightly and Jack laughs.

“Kidding.” He smiles, “I think you’d be a great mom. You’re strict, but you care.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure. You flirt like this with all your co-workers?”

And so the game continues.

“Only the ones I like.” He smirks. “And what’s your excuse for this red, hot bikini?”

You raise a brow, trying not to show how fast your heart is beating. “This one? It’s just red. Nothing special. Why? You like it?”

Jack’s eyes flick down, then back up. “I think that bikini’s not helping me stay on my best behavior.”

And then he turns away like he didn’t just say the most distracting thing in the world, pushing off the wall and floating backward lazily.

You’re left with your mouth gaping again, and a scoff leaves your lips.

It’s still a tie.

It’s been a few hours and now you’re lounging by the pool bar, nursing a margarita, watching over the crowd and Jack, a good few feet away, reading his book. You’re practically ogling him, and you’re pretty sure he knows you’re looking, because he just flexes his arm and puts it behind his head—you scoff. The gall.

But you’re not the only to notice, so it seems. One woman, decides to sit next to him—in your supposed chair—and starts talking to him. You frown, but would also like to see how it’ll play out.

She says something to him and Jack only gives her a curt, polite smile. Never says anything more than 4 words. And you don’t know why, but you feel like saying “that’s my man” when he technically isn’t.

That’s until she laughs a little too hard at something he didn’t even say and lands her hand on his arm. A little too close to his chest. So, fine, you’ll have to teach her a lesson.

You make your way to Jack and that woman. He’s sitting upright now, clearly trying to get away from the conversation. You step out of the pool dripping wet and place your hand on Jack’s shoulder, bringing his attention to you.

You don’t give him time to react, you just kiss him. Deeply. And Jack gasps a little before returning the fervor. You finally pull away first.

“I’m gonna head up to shower.” You say loud enough for the woman to overhear, “You wanna join me, baby?”

Jack swallows thickly, not expecting that, but abruptly stands up and follows you out of the pool area. You can only hear that woman scoff and groan while you grin, walking away with Jack holding your hand.

The second the elevator doors close behind you, Jack exhales sharply. He turns to you, trapping you with his arms. “You really committed to the bit,” he mutters, a half-laugh escaping him.

You grin, still dripping a little, your towel thrown over one shoulder. “You looked like you needed saving.”

“She was two seconds away from asking if I wanted to do a tequila shot in the hot tub.”

“Would you have said yes?”

Jack’s gaze flicks to you. “Not when I have you walking toward me looking like that.”

You tilt your head, playful. “So you were watching me.”

He smirks. “You weren’t exactly subtle yourself.”

Jack leans in a little, wanting to taste more of your honey, but the elevator dings and the doors open, and he groans. Terrible timing.

Back in the room, you go straight to the shower, and Jack lets out a quiet disappointed sigh, knowing he’d missed his chance of kissing you again. But that’s until you clear your throat, catching his attention from the bathroom.

He turns his head, watches as you only poke your head out from one side of the door. You have a playful smile on your lips as you put your hand out, revealing your red bikini—off, and dropped on the ground. You’re stark naked behind that wall, and the door’s wide open.

Jack’s jaw drops.

“Offer still stands, Jack.” You wink at him, and Jack’s never ran so fast in his life.

The bathroom’s already fogging up from the steam by the time Jack steps in, the door clicking shut behind him. You’re already under the spray, water gliding over your skin like something out of his wildest dreams.

He swallows, hard.

You tilt your head toward him, your smile gentler now, more real. “You coming in, Doctor?”

Jack doesn’t answer. He just pulls down his shorts, wanting to join you fast, and when he finally steps in, he looks at you for a minute. Like he’s trying to remember every curve, every dip, every supple flesh—and his hands finally touch your waist.

The heat of the water is nothing compared to the heat in your chest when he touches you.

Jack mutters against your neck, kissing your skin like he’s starving. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You hum, arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close, bare chests touching. “Oh I think I do.”

His mouth crashes into yours, all tongue and teeth. His hands roam down your back, gripping your ass, pressing you against him—and there’s no pretending now. No flirting for show. Just the hunger of two people who’ve been dancing around this for far too long.

Your back hits the tiled wall, water raining down between heated kisses and wandering hands. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it like a man who’s been dying of thirst.

You can feel his length standing proudly against your stomach and you moan.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, forehead pressed against yours. “You know that?”

You smile, breathless, and then a flashback of this morning plays in your mind. You bury your head in his neck, groaning.

“What?” He asks. “Something wrong?”

“No—nothing.” You say, still slightly avoiding his eyes.

Jack frowns, a little worried. “Sweetheart. Tell me.”

“It’s stupid, it’s just—” You sigh in defeat. “I… may have touched myself this morning thinking of you. Right here.”

Oh?

An amused smile quickly replaces Jack’s expression. A raised brow. And now a smirk. “Yeah?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Show me.”

“..Huh?”

“Show me how you touched yourself.”

You blink a few times. You’re trapped between Jack and the wall, with no escape.

“Go on.” He encourages and you close your eyes, biting your lip as you repeat what you did this morning.

One hand on your breast, the other on your clit. And you feel so shy now. Because he’s watching you, watching as you play with yourself, legs slightly apart to finger yourself, and because you know he wants you to beg.

The figure eights aren’t working for you. Your eyes search for his as your free hand grips his wrist.

“Jack, please, I—”

He hums, “What’s that, sweetheart?”

You let out a breath. “I… I can’t cum like this. I—I need you. Please, Jack—”

He smiles, kissing you once more before bringing his own hands to your core. It’s wet and sloppy, and he knows he’d have no trouble fucking you right now but he wants to take his time.

So he kisses your neck, toys with your breasts, pinches your nipples in better ways than you imagined as he basks in all your moans and whines.

He finally reaches where you want him most, and you jolt in surprise when you feel his fingers rubbing your clit. His calloused fingers are rougher than you expected, and you welcome it warmly.

He puts in one finger into your core and you gasp, maintaining eye contact as Jack watches you crumble before him. “You’re doing so good for me, princess.”

Fuck him and his pet names. You bite your lip. It makes you feel things.

He pumps his finger a few times before adding a second and you moan loudly, feeling the stretch that is oh so good. “This how you imagined me?” He asks.

You hum, nodding your head. “Yeah… Just like this—ah fuck, Jack…” You call out his name when he hits the right spot.

You moan as he pumps his fingers, thumb circling your clit with practiced, devastating skill. You’re barely holding yourself up, legs trembling, breaths choppy and uneven. He kisses you again, swallowing your cries as he fucks you with his fingers, relentless, until you’re falling apart in his arms.

You fall over the edge, body shaking, clutching him like you’ll drown without him. He holds you through it, fingers slowing until your legs can steady again.

“That’s a good girl…”

You think your lips must be bruised by now. Jack is looking at you like he’s trying to coax out another orgasm, but you shake your head.

“Want you… please.”

He groans, “You keep asking me so nicely like that, and how can I say no?”

And when he finally lifts your leg around his hip and you feel the hard length of him press against you, you realize just how big he is.

“Having second thoughts?” He asks.

“Fuck no.” You tell him. “You’re just… so big.”

Jack chuckles. “You’ll be able to take it. Won’t you?”

You whimper as he pushes his tip in.

“That’s it…” He coaxes, “My good girl.”

You pant when he finally bottoms out inside you. He’s practically splitting you open.

“Feel that, baby?” Jack says, his hand rubbing your lower belly. “I’m all the way in there.”

You never took Jack as a dirty talker, but you love it.

“So deep, Jack—” Your breath hitches when he finally moves his hips, snapping up sharply.

You kiss him desperately, biting his lower lip, your cries muffled into his mouth.

You grip his back, dragging your nails down as he thrusts into you again—and again—slow at first, then harder, deeper, as your bodies find the rhythm you’ve craved.

He fucks you with purpose, with heat, with every ounce of restraint he’s been clinging to. His hips snap against yours, your bodies slick and hot, your name falling from his lips like a broken record.

Your moans echo off the tile, drowned slightly by the water still rushing above you.

He slips out of you for a second, turning you around to press you up against the wall, before gripping your hips, slamming back inside you from a new angle, and you gasp, because he’s much deeper now, and you feel him more. Especially with his balls slapping against your clit with every single thrust.

“You feel so good,” he pants. “Squeezing me so tight—”

“Jack—oh my God—Jack—”

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand reaching for your shoulder, pulling you back. “Let go for me, baby.”

Your second orgasm comes hard, clenching around him with a sharp cry, body writhing in pleasure as your vision flashes white. Jack groans, burying his face into your neck as he follows, spilling deep inside you with a shudder and a hoarse growl of your name.

You moan, feeling him twitch inside you and filling you up. It’s warm, and you keep pushing back against him, wanting more of his cum.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” He grins, one hand on your throat as you lean back onto him. You only bite your lip return.

Jack whispers a ‘Jesus’ and hugs your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

He pulls out of you and you whine from the loss, feeling him drip out of you and down to your thighs. Jack groans at the sight.

You both breathe, hearts hammering, water cooling.

Jack kisses your temple. Then your cheek. Then your lips, slower this time.

By the time you’ve finished showering, it’s already 3:30PM. You only have about 30 minutes to get ready because Amy needs you to help her.

Jack helps you dry your hair while you do your makeup, casually brushing through the strands with a towel as if he’s done it a hundred times. It’s domestic. And if you didn’t already feel dizzy from what happened earlier, this would’ve done it.

You slip into your dress—a deep emerald green satin that hugs and flows in all the right places, held up by two delicate straps that run down your back. It’s timeless. Quietly stunning. And the moment Jack sees you in it, he lets out a quiet breath, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt like it’s the only way to stop his hands from reaching for you.

You catch his eyes in the mirror just before he steps up behind you, his hands finding your waist.

“Is everything you own made of silk?” He hums, lips brushing just below your ear.

“Satin,” You correct, “But no, just this and yesterday’s nightie.”

He groans softly into your neck, “Don’t remind me.”

You laugh. “I have to go earlier to help Amy. I’ll see you in the garden?”

Jack nods. “Want me to go with you?”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, “Probably some girl stuff.”

He hesitates, then nods again. You press a kiss to his cheek and start to walk away—but his fingers catch your wrist, stopping you mid-step.

“Wait,” Jack says. His voice is quieter this time, a little uncertain. “Can we talk? Tonight?”

You pause. You know exactly what he means. This isn’t pretend anymore—it hasn’t been for a while now. And even if there’s a chance he might tell you this was all a mistake… you don’t think that’s what he’s going to say.

You hold his gaze. “Yeah,” you say softly. “Of course we can talk.”

He exhales, relief flashing in his eyes, and lets your hand go. You walk to the door.

But before you can leave, he calls after you one last time.

“You look beautiful.”

You wink at him before closing the door.

Turns out Amy needs help getting dressed. Her stylist is busy retouching her makeup—because she bawled earlier—and now your mission is to use as many tide pens as it takes to erase the smudges she left on her dress.

“Oh my God,” Amy mutters, fanning her face with both hands. “I can’t believe I made a huge mess of myself.”

You chuckle, dabbing at the fabric. “It’s your wedding, girl. Tears are part of the dress code.”

“Don’t even say the W-word,” she hisses. “Talk about something else. Quick. Or the waterworks are coming again.”

“Uh—okay, what do you want me to talk about?” You panic, attacking another mascara stain.

“You and Jack.” She grabs your wrist. “Distract me with how you fell in love with him. Give me the juicy details.”

You blink.

Shit.

“Well… I…” You gulp. “I guess it started when I transferred. Like two years ago.”

It’s not a lie—you’ve had a crush on Jack practically since day one. The man’s competent, confident, funny as hell. Checks all the boxes. And when he calls you by your first name in that deep voice of his? Game over. “He made me feel like I had a high school crush again.”

“That’s it?” Amy stares at you flatly, “Give me more details! Where’s the tea??”

You groan, finally caving. “Okay, okay. I fainted once, and he caught me in his arms.”

Her jaw drops. “Like a princess?”

“Yeah, except covered in blood,” you laugh. “It was one of those marathon shifts. I’d just finished doing CPR on a guy, barely slept, barely ate—next thing I know, lights out. And Jack—he just broke my fall and carried me to the on-call room like it was nothing.”

A chorus of soft “awwws” breaks out in the room from Amy’s mom, cousin, and stylist.

You roll your eyes. “Relax. He probably did it out of duty. He’s my attending. Professional courtesy.”

Just then, you hear a loud voice from the hallway.

“Jack!” Harry calls from just outside the room. The door is slightly ajar.

Your entire body goes stiff. You whip your head to Amy, wide-eyed. “Do you think he heard all of that?”

Amy winces. “Would it make you feel better if I said no?”

Fuck. It’s not a huge deal, it’s just… a little silly. A little secret you hope Jack would never know because then he’d know you’ve had a thing for him for years now.

Amy finally walks down the aisle, her father giving her away. The garden is glowing—fairy lights strung between trees, blooms in every shade of pinks and whites, and soft mist curling along the grass like something out of a dream.

You’re standing next to Jack, having met him by the garden after helping Amy get ready. You’re not sure if he heard your whole fainting confession from outside her room, but if he did, he’s been polite enough not to bring it up.

Now, as the guests settle into their seats, watching Amy and Harry at the altar, Jack places a hand gently on your knee. You rest yours on top of his without thinking.

And when your best friend starts her vows—shaky but glowing with joy—you feel the tears build up. Jack silently hands you a folded handkerchief.

“God,” you whisper with a watery laugh, dabbing at your eyes. “You’re so old.”

“You like me old.” He whispers back.

The ceremony ends beautifully—vows exchanged, cheers rising, a kiss under the canopy of lights. Soon, everyone begins drifting toward the ballroom for food, drinks, and dancing.

You’re at the bar by yourself, sipping your second margarita, watching Amy spin around the dance floor in Harry’s arms. She looks completely happy. The kind of happy you hope stays forever.

“Amy’s best friend, right?” You hear someone beside you. “I’m Jackson. A friend of Harry’s.”

You squint for a moment before shaking his hand. “Avery?”

“Guilty.” He smiles. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen you on the news. And your mother. And grandfather.”

Jackson hums. “Figures.”

You nod. “How do you know Harry?”

“We went to the same med school.” He says and glances at your drink, “I take it you love margaritas?”

“Gee, what gave it away?”

He laughs, “Well you were drinking one earlier today too. By the pool.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. Is he flirting with you? “Oddly observant, aren’t you?”

“No,” He denies, “You just make quite the impression. Hard to miss.”

Okay he is flirting.

You raise a brow, amused, and you glance over your shoulder. Jack’s across the room, just finished talking to some people, and now he’s weaving through the crowd, eyes locked on you with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Boyfriend?” Jackson asks.

“Yep.” You say without hesitation.

“Darn.”

“You didn’t see how I was making out with him by the pool?”

Jackson smiles, shrugging. “My mind must’ve been elsewhere.”

“Well,” he says, already stepping back, “I should go before he decides to break my nose.”

You smirk. “Nice meeting you, Jackson.”

“You too.” He gives you a nod before disappearing into the crowd.

Just then, Jack reaches you, sliding a hand to your lower back like he’s staking a claim. You lean into him, pleased. And just a little smug.

“Hi,” He smiles.

“There you are.” You smile back.

He offers you his hand. “Dance with me.”

You blink, caught off guard. Jack Abbot dances? But you take his hand without question, letting him lead you to the floor just as a soft, slow cover of The Way You Look Tonight drifts through the speakers.

“Didn’t know you dance, Jack.”

Jack pulls you in gently, one hand resting on your bare lower back, the other folding around yours. Your free hand finds his shoulder. You breathe in the clean scent of him—his cologne and something you can only describe as him—and try not to melt into him entirely.

“Only with the right person,” he replies, voice quiet near your ear.

Your cheeks flush. You hope he doesn’t feel how fast your heart’s beating.

“So,” He starts casually, “Jackson Avery, huh?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Jealous?”

Jack shrugs, “A little.”

Your eyes flicker up to him, surprised. No man would ever admit that so easily—have themselves be vulnerable in front of a woman like that. It makes you feel warm inside, the thought that Jack can be protective of you because another man was flirting with you.

“I’d understand,” Jack says, a little dejected. “He’s a lot younger, more handsome, definitely rich—”

“—I shoo-ed him away.” You cut his sentence.

Jack raises a brow. “Why’s that?”

You mimic his shrug, trying not to smile too much. “I have a boyfriend.”

And he grins, a genuinely happy smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

You rest your head lightly against Jack’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the music sways through you both.

“So should we rip off the band-aid now?” You daringly ask.

He chuckles under his breath, the vibration soft against your cheek. “If you want to.”

You pull back just slightly so you can see him.

He lifts his gaze to yours, steady and warm.

“This weekend,” you say, your voice quiet but clear, “it’s not just pretend. Right?”

“No,” he says simply. “I…I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a sap,” he admits. “But I want to be with you. In every sense of the word. I want to make you laugh, be there when you cry, I want… I want everything with you.”

Your heart trips over itself, but your smile is calm.

“Me too.” You don’t hesitate. “I want all of it with you, Jack.”

He exhales, like he’s finally letting go of something he’s been holding onto for a long time. Then he leans in and kisses you, soft and slow and full of promise. When he pulls back, your lips are still tingling, and you hum at the loss.

For a second, you both just look at each other, breath mingling.

“So…” Jack tilts his head with a teasing smile, “you’ve had a crush on me since you transferred?”

“Ugh,” You try to hide your face in his chest. “So you were eavesdropping??”

“By accident,” he says quickly, laughing. “I was just looking for you.”

You squint. “Missed me that much, huh?”

Jack leans in, brushing his nose against yours. “Don’t blame me. I can’t get enough of you.”

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