CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
My Keurig was on the fritz. That was enough of a reason to throw something clean out the window, in my opinion. Luckily, I had saved the last scraps of coffee from my trip. Nuking it would probably leach the last of the flavor out, but hell, beggars couldn’t be choosers. I stuck the Starbucks cup in the microwave and hit the popcorn button.
I stared at the slowly spinning cup like a zombie, still only half-awake. One would think a week of vacation would’ve prepared me for coming back to work on Monday. Surely that was enough vacation for one person. Well. Long story extra fucking short?
It wasn’t.
It didn’t matter how ready I was, though, because short of debilitating injury, I had to go in. I wasn’t going to lie—I thought about my front steps for a few minutes, but they weren’t high enough to do any real damage. In fact, they looked just high enough to twist an ankle. Julian was mean enough to expect me to hobble in anyway. That would mean I had to drag out my Airwalk compression boot, and who needed that hassle?
I rushed through my morning routine, throwing on some slacks and a button-down blouse. I remembered the meeting we had with Torchwood Technologies at the last minute, and stepped in a pair of heels instead of my usual flats.
Thanks to Julian, the Groupon King, the front of the store was a mess by the time I arrived. It seemed like everyone in the tri-state area had schlepped their broken electronic devices to our store. Julian was talking with a customer as I made my way through the throng of people, and threw a hand up, signaling me to wait. Of course, I pretended not to see and skedaddled for my office. I’d have to face the music eventually, but I was pretty sure I could avoid him until after lunch.
The morning was a whirlwind of catching up on correspondence. It seemed like every email I answered was rerouted back to my inbox with six more friends in tow. I went out to the front to help troubleshoot some Groupon issues, and then to the back to troubleshoot some tech trouble. Suffice to say, for most of the morning, I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. I was more than ready to peel out of there for a late lunch, and almost ran smack dab into Julian when I opened my office door.
He had a stack of papers in his arms, a pen behind his ear, and a harried look in his eye. Those eyes narrowed. “Where are you going?”
“Lunch, Jules. Even poor, overworked bosses get lunch, don’t they?”
“Not the late ones,” he said.
“Five minutes,” I protested. “I couldn’t have been over five minutes late.”
“It was more like twenty. And don’t forget the meeting you have with Torchwood at two o’clock. The CFO has another meeting before yours, so they’ve changed it into a working lunch.”
“Damn. I’ll have to cancel lunch with Adam.”
“One of the techs also seems to be having quality issues with his repairs.” He was barely listening as he continued going down his laundry list of concerns. “We might have to let him go.”
“Then do it. I trust your judgment.” I gave him a sly look, never able to resist teasing him. “Unless you can’t handle it without me.”
“Hah!” He scoffed. “I’ve had this place running like a top.”
“A wildly spinning, out of control top that’s about to take out the city maybe.” I raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen the front? It’s a madhouse out there.”
He scowled, shuffling through the stack of papers threatening to fall out of his arms. “Got it all under control. Don’t worry.” He finally unearthed the paper he’d been looking for and slapped it on my desk. “Sign. Here, here, and there on the bottom.”
I scanned the invoice quickly before signing. “I know you have it under control. I trust you.” At his look, I amended, “I’m learning to trust more.”
“Nice of you to start learning to trust on Groupon explosion day.”
“Which was your harebrained idea in the first place.” I gave him a look, and used my best Samuel L. Jackson voice. “No more motherfucking Groupons.”
He gave me the hairy eyeball before snatching the invoice back and hustling for the door. A minute later, he popped his head back in the doorway. “Did you say you were having lunch with Adam?”
“Yeah.” I barely glanced up from my phone as I texted Adam that I couldn’t make it.
“Adam,” he repeated, his thin eyebrows going way, way, way the fuck up. I made a quick mental node to demand he stop threading. “Why are you having lunch with your ex?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I sent him a wink. I loved driving Julian crazy. It just killed him not to know everything.
He didn’t look amused like he normally would. He looked pissed. “Are you two getting back together?”
“Jesus, Jules. It’s just lunch.”
“I thought you and Jack were…you guys seemed like you were…” He finally stopped spluttering and ran a hand through his hair. His cheeks were flushed, but I didn’t need that visible sign to know he was upset. “I thought you and Jack were together.”
“We were.” I finished my text and pressed send. “And now we’re not.”
He stared at me, nonplussed, before shaking his head. “I really thought you guys were hitting it off.”
“We did.” I plucked at the hem of my shirt, uncomfortable with his regard. “But then it just…ran its course, I guess.” He continued to stare at me as if I’d pulled the Hubble telescope out of my purse, so I tried again, trying to explain something that I didn’t quite understand myself. “We want different things. I mean, come on, Jules, you of all people know it was a fake arrangement.”
“That’s what it started out as,” he said, his brow furrowed. “But it seemed like it was turning into something more.”
“It was just a favor, nothing more. In fact, I don’t think I ever properly said thank you for your help,” I said. “So…thank you.”
“Funny thing about that. After his birthday party, he wanted to know why you wanted a fake date. When I told him, he asked me not to find anyone else. He wasn’t doing me a favor, AJ. I was doing him one.” Jules stared at me as he let that information settle. “So maybe you should think about that when you’re at lunch with Adam.”
I didn’t bother to correct him that I wasn’t going to lunch with Adam anymore. Or that it had been just a friendly lunch in the first place. I knew exactly what he meant.
*
It was important to realize that one cannot watch Cupcake Wars at midnight without eventually wanting to eat a cupcake. That was the only explanation I had for being in the kitchen at one in the morning, whipping up a batch of mini cupcakes. They weren’t like any of the fancy concoctions I’d salivated over on the big screen, but they were chocolate. They were also finally cool enough to frost, and most importantly, they were all mine.
I was in the middle of trying to make a swirl on the top of one when my phone rang. I looked at the screen and almost dropped the frosting. Jackson’s seaside picture stared at me on the vibrating phone, challenging me to pick up. I waited so long to decide that I was afraid it would go to voicemail, but finally I swiped a finger across the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I repeated. Scintillating conversation. But God, it was good to hear his voice, even if he didn’t sound warm and welcoming. In fact, he sounded kind of angry. “How’re you doing?”
He didn’t answer my question. “Did you really go out with him today?”
I stood there for a second, my brow furrowed, before I figured out what he meant. “You keepin’ tabs on me, Sparks?”
“Will you just answer the question?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him none of his business. But then I thought about how I’d feel if he was dating someone else, and it stole the sarcastic comment from my lips. “No,” I finally said. “I had a business lunch. But even if I had met with Adam, it would be a lunch between friends.”
He was quiet for a moment, and I didn’t speak either. Sometimes you just had to let the silence be what it was. Finally, he said, “I don’t like you being with him.”
“Okay,” I said.
“In fact, that’s a little too mild for how I feel about it, AJ. I fucking hate you being with him, even if it is just for lunch.”
“Okay.”
“Even for an hour. A fucking minute.”
“Okay.”
“And will you stop saying okay?”
“What do you want me to say?” I asked, my voice quiet. Hell, I didn’t want to say anything at all. I wanted to touch him, and show him how much I missed him. Show him all the things I found too difficult to put in words.
He sighed, a soft sound tinged with frustration. “You know the agreement I said I’d think about?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
I was almost afraid to ask, in case his answer was no. “And?”
“I’m saying yes. I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he grumbled. “Might as well see you, too.”
“Oka—” Remembering his demand that I not say “okay”, I quickly corrected myself. “I’m glad you’re saying yes.”
“If this is the only way I get to have you, then I’ll take it.”
I bit my lip. “I want to see you.”
“I want to fuck you.” His voice was a rough growl that sent shudders down my spine. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
I stood there for a moment, nonplussed, wondering if I had enough time to freshen up and run around like a crazy woman. I decided yes, and proceeded to do both. The doorbell rang a scant hour and two minutes later, and I headed for the door, fresh from the shower, my hair still damp and up in a bun.
When I opened the door, he was standing there, looking sexy as sin in worn, stonewashed jeans and a white t-shirt. Damn, he looked good. Edible almost. And he smelled even better. His expression was slightly hesitant as he surveyed my face.
His gaze dropped to my attire, and he smiled. “I see you dressed for the occasion.”
I glanced down at my Hello Kitty pajamas and then gave him a little twirl. “Just for you, sweetheart.”
“I think I’ve changed my mind,” he teased.
He better be kidding. Just in case, I fisted my hand in the soft material of his shirt and towed him in like a prize fish I’d landed. His mouth lifted with amusement, but he let me pull him in and shut the door behind us both. “So.”
“So.” I flattened my palm against his shirt where I’d mussed it, and rubbed it back flat. And if I so happened to take the scenic route across Tight Pecs City, population Jackson, what of it?
“I’m here,” he said conversationally.
“That you are.”
“And you’re here.”
“I am,” I agreed. “The sky is also blue.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I thought we were announcing obvious things.”
He grinned. “Do you do anything else with that mouth other than make smartass comments?”
I hooked a finger in his jeans, pulling him closer. “Sometimes. I sing. I eat. I talk quite a bit. I lick things sometimes.” When my hand reached his zipper, those beautiful hazel eyes went dark. “Sometimes I do more than that.”
His throat worked as I reached into his pants and boxers, and stroked his length in my hand. “I might need a demonstration.”
“I might be willing to provide one.” Might be willing? I’d wanted to do this for him for a while now. I sank to my knees with little hesitation. It wasn’t something I did often, and certainly nothing I volunteered to do, but with him it was different. I wanted him to fall apart in my hands. I wanted to be the one who made him lose it. And from the looks of things, I was definitely going to get my chance.
He bucked a little, but I already had him firmly in hand. He was good-sized and thick, with a purplish mushroom head that leaked fluid already. I stuck my tongue out for a long leisurely taste, and by the time I was done, he was having a hard time even getting air in his throat. His breath stuttered and his stomach jumped under my palm as I licked again, taking the scenic route.
“Fuck,” he groaned. He reached for my hair, but drew back, taking a deep breath as his hands balled up into fists.
“It’s okay,” I managed, before taking him back in my mouth in one slow, sweet glide.
I liked his hand in my hair, holding on tight but not pulling, maneuvering my head the way he wanted it. And I liked it even better when he lost a shred of his precious control, and urged me on faster, meeting my mouth with desperate thrusts. His shaking hands messed up my hair, gathering and regathering it as the slippery strands fell through his fingers.
He slid through my mouth with a soft pop as I leaned back on my heels, stroking him with one hand. When I looked up, he was staring down at me, his face tense with want and anticipation. His hand tightened in my hair. “Open,” he said, his voice rough and husky.
It was impossible to deny him. My mouth opened almost automatically, and he used his other hand to guide himself inside, slowly. Patiently. That slightly salty, elemental flavor was loud on my tongue as he demanded entry. My hands flexed against his thighs, but I didn’t push him back, trusting him not to go too far, too fast.
“God. AJ, I can’t—”
He tried to pull me up, but I shook him off and sucked him in deeper, swirling my tongue around the head. I don’t know whether it was the sounds he was making or the taste of him, but arousal furled low in my belly. I wanted to drive him crazy. I wanted him to forget his own name. I wanted him to forget everything but the feel of my mouth wrapped tight around his dick.
He groaned as he came, hot and wet in my mouth. I sucked him softly until he couldn’t take it anymore and gently pulled me off. I kissed my way up his taut stomach, dropping kisses all the way up his chest and ending with a light kiss on his mouth. When I tried to pull back, he sank his hands in my hair and pulled my mouth back to his, deepening the kiss until I was breathless.
He pushed off my pajama pants as I stood, lifting me onto the small hall table. Two picture frames hit the floor, but I didn’t pay them any attention as he devoured my mouth. The table wobbled a little under my weight, and I opened my mouth to warn him of its questionable construction. But then he sank to his knees, pushing open my thighs, and I decided to take my motherfucking chances.
When he glanced up at me, those hazel eyes were equal parts teasing and wicked. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want…” I could barely form a sentence as his stubble abraded the sensitive skin of my thighs. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I want whatever you want to give me.”
His amused chuckle feathered across my skin lightly, making me shiver. “Be specific.”
“You. I just want you.”
From the startled look in his eyes, he was well aware that my answer was a lot more serious than it could’ve been. A lot more honest. He stared at me for a moment, the expression on his face unreadable. And then he sat back on his heels. “What are we doing here, exactly?”
Oh boy. “You want to talk about this now? My incredulous voice ended on a bit of a squeak.
“Can you think of a better time?” he asked calmly, his thumb making designs on the soft skin of my inner thigh. “I think we should set some parameters about what it is we’re both looking to get out of this…whatever this is.”
Withholding orgasms now? So we could talk about us? I wasn’t going to lie, he lost a lot of cool points right then. I sighed. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You are a lawyer. Why wouldn’t you want some sort of contract on sex?”
His gaze hardened. “Is that what we’re calling this now?”
No. I was calling it that to create distance between us. And it was clearly working.
“I don’t like games, AJ. I’m many horrible things and I have quite a few vices, but the one thing I always am is forthright. Honest. It’s time for you to be the same. If this is just sex, then let me know now.”
“It’s not.”
His hands tightened on my upper thighs as he shook his head, clearly exasperated. “Then what the hell are you so scared of?”
It was a good question. What was I so scared of. Love? What kind of person was scared of love? I swallowed hard. Maybe the kind who’d been hurt before. Maybe the kind who’d seen love fail so many times that she was afraid to take a chance. Jesus. I was so down on love that I’d exasperated a divorce lawyer.
The truth of the matter was I wanted guarantees in a world where nothing was ever for sure. I was conducting my love life like a business, and analyzing risk versus reward. And in my virtual spreadsheet, the risk always came out a little too high.
“You’re special to me, and I’m not looking to lose you. But if you’re asking me what I want? I want to keep things the way they are. I want to see each other. Have fun with one another.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t know if I can give you any more than that.”
His eyes were hooded as he looked at me, brow furrowed, and I wasn’t sure if he was aware he was giving me his best lawyer stare. If this was what it was like to be across the table from this man in a business setting, then I understood why he was so successful.
Just when I was starting to feel like a hunted animal, he nodded, as if he’d made a decision. “Then I’ll let you know when that’s not enough.”
My fertile mind took off immediately. And then what? But then his grip on my thighs intensified as he yanked me forward on the table, to the very edge. There was a moment of breathless silence as I waited tensely, wondering what I would get—quick, questing fingers, or thick, hard cock. I realized I was wrong on both counts as the rasp of his faint stubble suddenly abraded the sensitive skin between my thighs. I watched, wide-eyed, as that golden head descended slowly.
I hesitantly objected. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t think,” he said swiftly, turning it into a command.
He began nibbling around the sensitive lips at my opening, sucking part of it into his mouth and worrying it with his teeth. He seemed to be going every goddamned place but where I wanted him the most, and I suddenly was brazen enough to admit it. I wanted his tongue buried deep inside me, doing the same maddening flickering motions he was doing at present to my overly sensitized thighs.
“Jackson,” I said crossly. He glanced up at me, eyes sparkling, grin quite wicked, and I knew he knew exactly what he was doing to me. “Does the phrase ‘blue balls’ mean anything to you?”
“Can’t say it does,” he said silkily.
Then his face was back between my thighs and I had nothing else to say. This time he wasn’t interested in discovering and patenting a new form of torture. I was ready for it, prepared for it…hell, I’d demanded that he stop teasing and get down to business, but his tongue surging inside made me arch up with a sharp, gut-wrenching cry, dislodging him at the same time.
He surveyed me grumpily and I held up my hands in apology. He clamped an arm around my wriggling hips and held me immobile, before going back to work. I rode the swift thrusts of his tongue mindlessly, seeking, questing. I needed…more. Just more.
And then suddenly I had it, groaning as he sucked my clit in the heated cavern of his mouth. My sight went a little blurry. A soft, broken little “oh God,” was all I could manage. I sank my fingers in his silky hair, just to hold on to something, anything. I didn’t need to guide him—apparently someone had given him a map of my sex. And bonus, that intrepid person had included a legend with a check next to every area that made me see stars. His tongue swept over one of those areas right then, dragging a low moan from my throat. My thighs began to quiver.
“Jesus, Jackson, I need…I need—”
“I know what you need.” His voice was muffled as he continued driving me crazy.
I tried to pull back, a little, to gain one small moment of clarity in a world gone hazy, but his strong forearm easily held me immobile. Strong fingers dug into the sides of my thighs, spreading my legs further, and I cried out hoarsely as he buried his tongue in me yet again. And then my thighs were tingling and my toes were tingling and there it was. I came apart with no effort at all, shattering into a million tiny pieces. I could almost hear the tinkling of broken glass in my mind as I drifted back to earth.
When I finally opened my eyes, he was paused at my entrance, looking up at me with an undecipherable expression. And then he deciphered it. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
His words made my breath hitch in my throat. Mostly because I knew Jackson didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. He made me more than something as simple as desirable. He made me feel like I was the only one.
It was my turn to say something beautiful and touching. I thought hard. “You know what to do or you need a manual?”
Well. There was a reason no one asked me to give celebratory toasts, after all.
I got an eye roll and a grin for my saucy words. He lifted me easily and carried me down the hall to my bedroom, kicking my door open in a way that sent it flying into the wall. I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about right now was getting him inside me as soon as possible. He laid me on the bed and quickly shucked his disarrayed clothing, before joining me on the bed. He lifted my legs and spread them, making room for him to kneel between.
The cool air hit my already stimulated flesh, making me shudder as he stared at my wet pussy like he’d never seen one before. All right. That was quite enough waiting. I grabbed a condom from the nightstand and held it aloft until he plucked it from my fingers. Maybe he wasn’t as cool and collected as he originally seemed. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn’t get the wrapper open.
He was so fucking cute, a blush rising in his cheeks, brow creased in concentration, and I loved it. I would be surprised if he’d ever struggled with a condom wrapper in his life. The fact that he wanted me that badly made me feel powerful. Special.
I plucked the condom from his fingers and opened it skillfully. Then I handed the disc to him with a raised brow. “I’m assuming you can take it from here.”
“I’ve opened a condom before,” he informed me with a huff.
I tried to hide a grin. “Clearly.”
But then he was rolling the condom on that thick erect cock, glistening and throbbing against his stomach, and I had nothing else to say. I reached for him, almost without conscious thought, and he swatted my hands.
“I told you, the next time we did this, you were going to have to beg me.”
“Fair enough.” I pretended to think about it. “If you don’t get on with it, there’s room for your face on a milk carton.”
“I thought that was for missing kids.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I said sweetly.
His eyes danced with amusement. “Good enough.”