CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I was well aware that everyone knew exactly why we’d hustled off so quickly. If Art’s knowing smirk hadn’t been enough of a sign, Lane and Rick elbowing one another would have done it. Nosy bastards. But even that wasn’t enough to bring my back to my senses.
We didn’t say much on the way back to my room, and the tense silence was almost enough to make me think he was having second thoughts. Only he made sure to touch me in some fashion the entire way. His hand brushing the back of my neck. Touching my shoulder when he held the door open. His hand on the small of my back as we made our way upstairs. It was almost as if he was afraid if he stopped touching me, I would change my mind.
He didn’t have to worry about that.
I was pretty sure I’d never been so ready for something in my life. My skin felt tight and achy; my breasts sensitive and swollen. The normally gentle lace cups of my bra were abrasive against my suddenly sensitized skin. My mind wasn’t even throwing up any bogus roadblocks in my usual Avery fashion.
I closed my bedroom door behind us softly, mind whirring in a million different directions. I’d been daydreaming about this moment so long, I could hardly believe it was here.
I didn’t know what I wanted to do first…what I wanted to touch first. Maybe I should take off my shirt. Or his. I looked up and down his torso. Yeah, we should definitely start with his.
His voice was barely above a whisper, but it made me jump a little. “You still want to do this?”
“I’m far too much of a lady to say yes.”
He chuckled. “I’m far too much of a gentleman to comment on that.”
I dug my fingers in his ribs then, making him laugh, and the sudden dissipation of sexual tension was a welcome relief. This wasn’t some sleazy hookup in a bar—he was Jackson, and I knew him. I certainly knew him well enough to know all of his sensitive spots anyway. I got him good in the sensitive skin below his underarms, and he yelped like a startled dog. One of the tiny ones that people like to carry in handbags.
“All right, that’s it!” He lifted me clear off the ground.
I laughed and shrieked and begged for mercy without reprieve, until finally he tossed me on the bed. I was airborne for a few breathless seconds before I hit the soft mattress, bouncing twice before landing in a laughing heap.
“Say you’re sorry,” he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.
“You want me to l-lie?”
“Say it!” he demanded, unreasonably in my estimation.
“Fine. Sorry, sorry,” I managed through my laughter, but he wasn’t having any of it.
He pounced, straddling my waist and pinning my wrists with one hand. And then the laughing mood was gone and things were a bit tense again. My eyes were locked with his for a breathless moment as we hoovered there, right there on the precipice of doing something that would change our relationship forever, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.
There was something more than desire in his eyes right then, but I couldn’t quite decipher what it was. Maybe because I wanted him too much to think right then. And maybe I was afraid of what I’d find if I did.
I didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly there was a blur of hands and mouths and limbs intertwining. I’d been ogling all that golden, tanned skin for weeks, and now I wanted to get my hands on every inch of it. It seemed like we were definitely of the same mind as his hands tugged at my tank top, pushing it up over my stomach and over my head in one smooth motion. I didn’t know where the garment landed, and I couldn’t have cared less. And finally, thankfully, the man finally got with the program and took off my bra.
I wasn’t shy under his intense perusal of my body. Yeah, I knew I had large breasts and wide hips and Vogue wasn’t going to be calling me to grace a cover anytime soon, but none of that was going to change by me blushing and stuttering like an idiot. Besides, from the way the bulge in his pants grew even bigger, clearly he’d found something he liked.
When his gaze cruised over my breasts for the third time, I made a frustrated noise behind my teeth. “You window shopping or planning to buy?”
His eyes crinkled in amusement, but he ignored my sass. As usual. Instead, his thumb leisurely circled a toffee-colored nipple, like he had all the time in the world. Like my nipples were connected by invisible string, they both tightened in response in a way that was almost painful. My back arched instinctively as I bit my lip. I suddenly realized that at some point I’d stopped breathing, in sheer anticipation, and my breath whooshed out of my body like a popped balloon.
His hands were the perfect blend of gentle and firm as both roughened palms covered my breasts. And when he finally sucked one of my stiffened nipples into his mouth, a sound I wasn’t sure I could ever make again escaped my lips. His eyes shot to mine before they grew heavy-lidded, and he began to suck. First one. Then the other. Then back. Then he tried to fit both of them in his mouth, which didn’t work, but fuck if I didn’t enjoy watching him try. I didn’t know the origin of Jackson’s oral fixation, but I gave silent thanks as sensations ricocheted through my body like bouncing fucking pinballs.
Always a greedy little thing, I wanted more. I could feel his hardness pressing into my stomach, and I wanted him naked. I wanted his skin on mine. I wanted some part of him in me. “More,” I managed, eloquent as ever.
I didn’t have to tell him twice. He made short work of my shorts, leaving me clad in a pair of little pink underwear. When he pushed the tiny excuse for underwear aside, he made a sound that I could only describe as a growl.
“You want to put that in words?” I said, anticipation making my stomach knot.
“You’re fuckin’ sexy, AJ. That’s about as coherent as I can be right now.”
Right about now, that sounded good as anything Shakespeare ever wrote. He slid one thick, clever finger in me and began to thrust, and the sensation was just…incredible. My toes arched so hard that I almost got a cramp, and I forced my feet flat on the mattress, trying to relax a little. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to take deep breaths, and fisted my hand by my thigh, but none of my techniques were working. My hips jerked involuntarily, canting to the rhythm of his fingers.
His eyes were trained on the motion of his finger, working in and out of me; my eyes were trained on him. And that was the exact moment that I knew I was already lying to myself, and this was a little bit more than just sex. Fuck. It was sex with Jackson, and that made all the difference. Before I could really wrap my mind around that disturbing thought, he added another finger and thank God, I had no more time to think random, arousal-killing thoughts. Instead, I was suddenly busy trying to remember to breathe again.
I grabbed his face and brought his mouth down to mine, needing that extra bit of connection. He pulled back from the kiss, fascinated with watching his fingers invading my sex again and again. I was fascinated, too, with finally being able to maul that perfect mouth to my heart’s content. I sank my teeth into his bottom lip delicately, pulling his mouth back to mine, just so I could attack him, plunge my tongue in his mouth and drink him in. The feeling was so crazy beautiful that I wanted it to last forever, only I could feel my orgasm starting, could feel it clear to my arching feet as my undulations grew less controlled and took on a touch of frenzy.
“Please,” I managed for no reason at all, shifting restlessly. He hushed me with a murmur, and sank his tongue back in my mouth…which was not a way, I thought crossly, to calm my arousal down. Just for his future knowledge. I sucked on his tongue as he kept up that fucking amazing rhythm with his fingers.
And there was that illusive finish, right there. A few snaps of my hips and I’d be there. That dive off the precipice was almost frightening this time, but before I could think any further, I was on the edge. It was like I’d feared—so sharp, so high, so dangerous that I wasn’t sure I’d survive the fall. I was pretty sure I didn’t care. And then I went over, breathlessly, falling, unable to even make so much as a sound, letting the frissons take over my body.
I came back to earth slowly, breathing shallow and rapid, finally understanding why the French called it le petit mort. I was pretty sure I’d died for a moment there. I hadn’t had time to catch up with my grandma and my old shih tzu, Billie, but I was pretty sure. Worth it.
I blinked to see Jackson off the bed, wrestling with his zipper. He was so hard that the tip of his cock was poking out of his pants, and if I’d had even a millimeter of energy left, I’d have helped him. Instead, I sat back and enjoyed my own Magic Mike reenactment, far too satisfied to do something as pedestrian as helping. After a lot of cursing of his pants, the Lord, and the Lord’s mother—for shame—he finally wrenched them off and stepped out of his boxers. Then he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, too.
God, he was so fucking gorgeous. He didn’t have a gym six-pack—just natural muscle definition everywhere, all covered by a landscape of well-toned, well-defined skin. His cock drew my attention too, all eight inches of him, and I wanted to tease him there. Taste him. Drive him absolutely crazy, but all that was going to have to wait as he moved between my thighs again. I thought I was spent, but the sight of his dripping cock aimed at my sex had me ready again.
And then he swore and was off the bed again, muttering and rifling through his pants. Sweet Jesus, I was going to kill that man if he did not commence fucking me into the mattress. “What?” I finally asked.
“Yahtzee!” He held up the small disc-shaped packet between two fingers with a grin. “Condom.”
He was lightning quick with suiting up and was back before I could utter a word. He spread my thighs and hooked my knees over his arms, leaving me open and exposed to that intense gaze. And then he began a slow slide inside me, not stopping until he buried himself to the hilt, his eyes on my face the entire time.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
I concur. There was no other word on earth to describe how it felt right then, feeling him sliding inside of me. No words for the thick, full feeling, the suction and release of my overly aroused flesh. Nothing logical, that was. Besides, “fuck” just seemed to fit the bill so nicely.
He withdrew and entered me over and over again, slow and deep, my hands locked around his biceps, my legs wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t long before he cursed again and broke that steady rhythm. I thought I liked slow and steady, but goddamn, feeling him hammer away at me was something even better. Sweat dripped from his brow and fell on my breasts, and I liked that, too. I liked to think I helped by raising my hips to meet his suddenly frenzied pace, but in reality, Jackson on a mission was something to behold. All I could do was hang on.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and he shook me off, pinning my hands to the mattress in response, one hand securing them together at my wrists. His other hand returned to spread my legs even further apart, if that was even possible. With his face buried in my neck, his mouth hot and open, my body filled with his, the sound of our breathing harsh in my ears, I felt like there wasn’t one part of me he hadn’t touched. Not one part that wasn’t filled with the scent of him. The smell of him. I bit his shoulder and relished in his answering growl. The taste of him.
I loved every fucking minute.
“Avery…baby, I can’t—”
“You don’t have to,” I managed, and he reared back, head thrown back, strong column of his throat exposed, tendons straining against the tanned skin as he cried out. I tried to watch as long as I could, the sheer beauty of him in the midst of an orgasm, losing absolute control, but I only had a few seconds before that tell-tale tingling sensation raced up my spine. I could only cry out incoherently, shuddering as the storm took me, too.
We lay there for a while, tangled up in the sweaty sheets, not speaking a word. I could still hear my heart beating loudly in my ears. He wasn’t exactly a lightweight, and he was going to have to move eventually, but not right now. Not yet. Every moment was still narrowed down into one, a pinhole of focus, and I didn’t want to ruin it by moving. It was wonderful. Elemental. Spiritual. I was seeing a white light, like a beam from heaven…wait no, I was suffocating to death.
I tapped his flanks. “Off, you big lug,” I muttered. “Too heavy.”
His chuckle was soft in my ear. Good to know my suffocation was amusing to the bastard. “I’m quite comfortable.”
“Hope you’re charged,” I managed, “with my murder.”
“Drama queen.” He rolled off, but took his slow, sweet time doing so. “It’d be negligent homicide at best.”
I listened to him moving about the room as he disposed of the condom and flipped off the lights. Then his soft curse as he stubbed his toe on the nightstand before he clambered back in bed. After his usual routine of flipping and flopping, pillow punching and sighing, he finally settled down.
I still couldn’t move a muscle. I was pretty sure my body was frozen in this position, on my back, hands clasped on my chest as if dead.
“You okay?” he finally asked.
Define okay. One day in and I was pretty sure I was not cut out for casual sex. Because if I was, I would be basking in the glow of the best sex of my life. I wouldn’t be thinking about reaching over to interlace our fingers together. Just so I could be close to him for a little while longer.
“Avery?”
There was a rustle of sheets as Jackson sat up on one elbow, peering down at me. His hair was mussed and his mouth kiss-swollen, and I’d left marks on his neck that made me blush. He looked wrecked. When his eyes crinkled in concern, I realized that not only had I not answered his question, but I’d been staring at him for quite some time now.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I finally answered, my voice a little shaky. Mostly because I was pretty sure I’d messed up. I didn’t want him for anything casual. I wanted him for good. “Are you?”
He stared at me for another moment, before his mouth lifted. He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear even though I was pretty sure my whole head was a mass of tangled hair at this point. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
I didn’t speak for a few moments, wondering how much I should admit. How much was safe to say. I had a feeling if I said “feel what,” I would break whatever tenuous thing we had created, and even though I wanted space, wanted him out of my head, with all my doubts and fears, I wasn’t willing to do that.
“Can we talk about something else?” I finally croaked.
His eyes were filled with promise. Maybe he wasn’t going to force me to face it now, but eventually I’d have to. Because what we’d just shared damn sure wasn’t casual. And you didn’t find it every day. But apparently, I’d bought a reprieve.
He reached over, pulling my arm gently, using it to tow me across the bed. I rolled toward him and then on him, and suddenly we were skin to skin again, arms and legs intertwined. I was tucked against his chest like I belonged there. His skin was warm against my cheek, and I could hear the muted beating of his heart. It was comforting. Whatever demons he still battled because of his Type A, obsessive father, Jackson had come out on the other side, just like that heartbeat. Strong and steady.
“Thank you,” I whispered, for my reprieve and everything else.
“Mmhmm.” His hand slid down the curve of my back, caressing there, not sexual, almost soothing. “There’s a cost though.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You have to tell me something about you. Something that no one else knows.”
“Like what?”
He huffed. “If I knew what it was, it wouldn’t be something no one else knows.”
Lawyers. I frowned. “Well, give me a guideline.”
His voice was serious and rife with meaning. “Something real.”
My body stiffened, almost without conscious thought, but those magical hands kept stroking down my back, calming me and giving me courage. Courage to put all the sarcasm and bullshit aside, and just be…Avery. It was a test, and I needed to pass. Because if I couldn’t give him something real now, when would I ever?
My mind briefly blanked, and then words started to spill out of my mouth. “When I was younger, I wanted to be a doctor.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant.”
I shook my head to stop him and he quieted. “I know ‘doctor’ is among the standard that children use when people ask them what they want to be, but I wanted to be a doctor since the time I was in third grade. And I went for it. I went through the medical magnet program at my high school and went to a college that had a reputation for excellence in the medical community. I double majored in Chemistry and Bio and I even interned with a doctor. Everything was going according to plan. My mom was so proud.” I smiled a little, my finger tracing patterns on his skin. “She bought me medical books and a stethoscope to practice with, and even on one of my birthdays, she got me a replica of the human skeleton.”
“Life size?”
“It’s in that closet,” I said and delighted in his shudder.
“So what went wrong? Did you grow out of it?”
“The day she had her heart attack, it was just the two of us. I’d come home on spring break, and we were in the den, talking about everything and anything like we usually did. And then…”
His hands stilled on my back. “You don’t have to—”
“I was on the phone with 911, and I never knew that ten minutes could be so long. I was doing CPR like I’d been taught, and I was so panicked, I felt like I might be doing it wrong.”
I took a deep, shuddery breath, and his hands started up again. And thank God for that. I felt as wound up as a clock. I felt like if he stopped stroking, I might go off like a Jack-in-the box.
“When they finally got there, lights and sirens blaring, it still felt like everything was surreal. Like I was underwater in this giant bubble. The paramedics had to ask me three times if she was on any medication. But they were here. The medical professionals were here and they could…fix this. Please. Just fix this.”
“Baby,” he whispered in my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” I wasn’t just talking to him. I had to loosen the grip on the past and remember that. “My father arrived as the ambulance was pulling off, and when I told him, he looked gray. Ashen. But he knew then. I didn’t piece it together until later, but as a cop, he knew that when the ambulance pulls off without lights and sirens, in no particular hurry, things are already over.”
“They didn’t work on her?”
“Not much. Like I said. It was pretty much over. But we sat with her for a long while. My dad put his head on her chest, just to hear that heart that was no longer beating and I found out what love really is.” I took a deep breath. “I saw those paramedics later. In the hallway. One of them was eating a sandwich and they were joking about getting off work because he was so fucking tired but he still had to pick up his girl’s kid. I passed by them, these guys who had been in my house, feeling my mother’s last breath from her body, and they didn’t even recognize me. I was just another call. Another face. Another report that was filled out so they could get the hell out of here.”
Even now, I marveled at the nature of the world and how we were all interconnected…but separate. Your world could be ending as someone was bitching about having to pick up his girlfriend’s kid from daycare. “And that’s the moment I knew. I didn’t want to be a doctor. Not because they didn’t do wonderful things or they weren’t wonderful people. But I realized that I never wanted to be able to compartmentalize human life. Not that way. Not even for my own sanity.”
I fell silent and he kissed my head through the tangle of my hair. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Thank you for telling me that.”
“I wanted to,” I said simply. “No thank you required.”
“Still.”
I turned so I could see him, brushing the hair out of my face and propping my chin up on my folded hands. “That wasn’t free, Sparks. Your turn.
I could feel the rumble of amusement in his chest under my palms. “My turn? I feel like this is turning into some sort of reality show confessional. Last night, on Your Deepest Darkest Secrets, Bubbles and Mark decided—”
I smacked his arm. Even though it was funny. “I didn’t get to joke, so neither do you.”
He sighed, closing his eyes. “What do you want to know?”
That was easy. I used his words, because they were so perfect. “Something real.”
He was silent so long that I wondered if he’d fallen asleep. And then he spoke, his voice quiet. Introspective. “When I found out that my father had passed, my first reaction wasn’t grief. It was relief.” He paused, almost as if he was expecting me to judge him, but when none came, he went on. “I was relieved that I didn’t have to live up to his expectations anymore. Relieved that I didn’t have to see his disappointment anymore. He could no longer hurt me. Jules. My mother. Which was a ridiculous thought, because she was gone, too. But maybe it hurt less because she’d been gone for so long already.”
I almost hated to break the quiet, but I had to know. “What do you mean?”
“His affairs. They broke her, you know. Turned her into someone different. Someone cold and empty and distant. He always dated someone who looked like a younger version of her. The her she’d never be again. He brought one of them to dinner one night. Told us she was a client. But we all knew. We all were part of the charade.”
His eyes flew open, and they were dark with anger. “We sat there, and ate the dinner that my mother had prepared. We all sat there because when you’re a Sparks, you don’t make a scene. He was always that indiscreet, like he wanted her to know. Wanted it to hurt. Wanted her to know that just like his loser sons, she didn’t meet his expectations either.” He blew out a breath. “Sometimes I think I avoid relationships and long-term commitment because I’m afraid to turn into him. And sometimes I think…I already am.”
My brow furrowed. “You could never be like him,” I said fiercely.
“You barely know—”
“I know enough. And I know that Jules couldn’t stand that man. But he thinks the world of you. Doesn’t that mean something? Something more than the opinions of a dead man?”
He looked at me silently for a few moments, before his mouth quirked. “It does.”
“It should.”
His eyes crinkled, and my stomach dipped again. “You look like you’re ready to take him on for me.”
“Dream on, Sparks. I don’t fight no ghosts.”
“My mother wasn’t all bad, you know,” he said after a pause. “She was a very quiet, very beautiful woman who loved culture. She was always trying to share the arts with us. Julian wasn’t all that interested, and always made sure to be busy, but I always went along when she suggested it. She loved museums and baroque art.”
“And you?”
“I just loved her.” He half-smiled, and my heart hurt seeing the pain behind it. “Afterward, we’d always share a picnic. Usually water crackers and brie. Some grapes. We’d eat in the car with the windows down and talk about what we saw. Now every time I see a museum, I think about my childhood. Hearing her heels click in the cool, quiet halls. Speaking in hushed voices. Walking around, hand in hand with my classy, elegant mother, and being a part of something she loved so much.”
He glanced down at me. “Are you crying?”
“Shut up.” I swiped at my eyes. “And no. It’s called mist. Mist is not crying.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He pulled me closer, into an embrace that I made no effort to get out of. Just that easy. Jackson always knew what he wanted and went for it. “We should get some sleep.”
That was something I could get onboard with. My face was trapped in the crook of his neck, and I didn’t try to get free. Instead, I breathed him in. Now I could smell him and that elusive Jackson scent all I wanted. “Goodnight, Jackson.”
“Night, AJ.”
I had a moment to appreciate how much better sleeping was when it was on Mount Jackson before serotonin took charge, and I drifted off.