Under the sun, Jack watched Lille paint

 

Since I’d destroyed my phone, that night I convinced Lola to lend me hers so I could look up Jack’s brother. I felt like a bit of a dirtbag doing it, but my curiosity was too much to bear. This Jay Fields must have been some piece of work to abandon his sibling like that. Wikipedia told me that he was a stage illusionist with a growing cult following, but aside from a tiny paragraph about his personal life, there wasn’t much else in terms of details. There was definitely no mention of a younger brother that he had all but left for dead.

I was more interested in hearing him talk than watching his tricks. I needed to see his personality so I could determine what kind of a person he was. Despite Jack indicating he was done with his brother, I had a feeling he was harbouring a lot of pain on the inside. I hunted down an interview and hit “play.” The interviewer was a woman, but you couldn’t see her because she was off camera.

“What’s most important to you?” she asked at one point. To which Jay replied, “My family, always my family.”

I paused on that bit, frowning, and replayed it a number of times, looking closely at his face to see if he was lying. If Jack’s story was anything to go by, he had to be. The problem was, all I could read from him was sincerity, and it made me feel like there was more to this than met the eye. If not, Jay Fields was an exceptional liar. He was certainly charismatic enough to pull it off. He had a frisky sort of charm that Jack didn’t. Looks-wise, they didn’t resemble each other much, either. Jay wasn’t as dark as Jack; however, there was something in his mannerisms that was similar, in his facial expressions and the way he moved his body.

The interview was only a couple of minutes long, and the interviewer mostly asked him questions about his magic show and his new wife. Still, I didn’t get the feeling that he was a bad person. There was a warmth about him that made me think he wouldn’t do something as callous as abandon Jack. Then again, people did all sorts of unexpected things in life. I pondered on the matter for a while until I was too tired to think anymore. Then I gave Lola back her phone and went to bed.

***

 

The next morning, I went into town early and visited an art shop to buy some supplies. I was running out of face paints, but I needed supplies for my paintings, too. There was an easel for sale in the corner of the store, but it was too expensive. I stared at it longingly and settled for some cheap paintbrushes, oil paints, and a few small canvases instead. I longed for the day when I wouldn’t have to care about storing things and could buy canvases as big as I liked. If that day ever came.

When I got back to the campsite, they were serving lunch in the gazebo, some kind of paella. I took a bowl and ate quickly. Jack was sitting with King again. He met my eyes for a prolonged moment, and I felt an intense shiver. As soon as I was finished, I left. I had something important that I needed to do.

The other day I’d spotted some disused bits of wood lying around at the back of the circus tent, and I thought maybe I could salvage a few pieces and fashion a makeshift easel. It was a long shot, but I had nothing else to do with my day anyway. Unfortunately, I didn’t count on the wood being so difficult to carry. I had to split it into two runs. On the second, as I made my way back to the camper, I felt the muscle in my arm spasm, and I had to set the load down for a moment.

“What are you doing?” Jack’s voice came from behind me.

I dabbed the sweat from my brow and turned to face him as he approached. “Oh, I need the wood to make something. Don’t worry, I’m not up to anything sinister.”

He smirked a little and stepped forward, easily hefting the wood up with his big arms and looking to me for direction. “Where to?”

“Violet’s camper. Um, thanks. You don’t have to….”

Jack cut me off with a chuckle. “You’re going to do yourself a mischief if you try carrying it the rest of the way. And I’d rather not have to rush you to the hospital just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help.”

Scowling a little, I walked alongside him, having to work to keep up with his long strides even though he was the one carrying the load. “I’m stubborn? You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

He flashed me a rare smile, laughing, and when we made it to the camper, he laid the wood down on the grass for me.

“So are you going to tell me about this big secret project or what?” he asked, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

I tried not to stare in that general area, which was difficult. Going to lean against the side of the camper, I folded my arms. “Well, I had this hare-brained idea that I could make an easel out of it, you know, to paint on. It might be a little far-fetched, though, because I don’t have any tools.”

I must have had a hopeful look in my eye, because he let out a long sigh. He didn’t seem annoyed, though. He seemed playful, which I hadn’t seen on him before, and it was very appealing. “Is this you hinting for me to make the easel for you, Lille?”

“Well,” I said, “you were a little snippy with me yesterday. This could be the perfect way for you to make it up to me.”

His smile was fading now, but there was still a hint of it playing on his features. He took a step forward and gazed down at me. “I can think of a few other ways that’d be much more fun,” he murmured, and ran his hand down my arm. I swallowed visibly and started to blush, my eyes fixing on the toes of my worn Converse. The quiet between us dragged out for a long moment before he moved away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

When he left, I could finally breathe again. God, why hadn’t I just grabbed him then and kissed him? He was obviously being suggestive. I hated how I was always so hesitant.

Friends, I reminded myself. I was supposed to be trying to be his friend.

Deciding to make the most of the sunny weather, I set up a chair and brought out my sketchpad to start outlining the portrait I’d promised Bea. I thought I had her face memorised well enough that I could do most of it without needing her in front of me. I was lost in the drawing when Jack arrived back, carrying a toolbox and a saw.

He definitely looks good with tools. He’ll probably look even better when he’s using them, I thought to myself as he set to work. I had something of a dirty mind of late. His fault, obviously. About two hours passed, and somewhere within that time I’d set aside my sketchpad in order to watch him. The view was pretty fine. He was wearing the T-shirt with the sleeves cut off again, his muscles moving as he hammered a nail into a length of wood. His skin glistened with beads of sweat.

His back had been turned to me the entire time, which was why I got a little fright when he asked knowingly, “Enjoying the view?”

I didn’t even bother to act coy. “Uh, yeah. I am, actually.”

I could tell from his profile that he was smiling. Wow, Jack really was in an unusually good mood today.

“Can I get you some water? You must be thirsty.”

“I’ve only been waiting about an hour for you to ask that, so yeah, I’d like some water, Lille. How did you last so long as a waitress, huh?” The teasing lilt in his voice put a bit of a spring in my step as I went inside to get the water. Perhaps we were turning over a new leaf. When I came back out, I handed him the bottle, and he knocked almost the entire thing back in one long gulp, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. It was disconcerting, to say the least. He’d just about finished the easel, and I was taken aback by what he had achieved. It was probably better than the one they were selling back at the art shop.

I walked over to inspect it, running my hand lightly over the wood. “This is so good. You could be, like, a carpenter if you wanted.”

“My one true dream,” Jack replied with no small amount of sarcasm.

“Okay, whatever, fire boy. I still think this is amazing. In fact, I should probably pay you.” I dug in the back pocket of my jeans for my wallet, but he stopped me with a hand.

“No payment needed. Think of it as an apology. Like you said, I owed you for being a dick yesterday.”

And now I was thinking about dicks, his in particular. Where was my mind today? Oh, right, in the gutter, obviously. Jack put the final touches to the easel, and I invited him inside for a sandwich. It was the least I could do. And since Violet and Lola weren’t around, I knew we wouldn’t have an audience. Lola was always watching me with Jack, a glint in her eye, like she knew something I didn’t.

There was a small Breville toaster in the kitchen, and I went about putting together some cheese sandwiches for us. After sitting in the sun and watching Jack work all day, I’d built up quite the appetite. For food, of course. Well, other things, too, but the likelihood of those happening was slim. I must have been overly eager to get to my sandwich, plus, I hadn’t used this toaster before, because I touched the metal part by mistake. It was burning hot and two of my fingertips came away red and raw. I hissed at the pain as I pulled them to my chest, hurrying over to the tap and holding them under the cold running water.

“I’m such a fucking klutz,” I complained just as I felt Jack’s warmth behind me. When my fingers were about to turn to icicles, he reached past me and shut off the tap. Taking my hand, he dried it off with a dish towel and then led me over to the lounge. His silence put me slightly on edge, but then again, Jack wasn’t the sort of person who talked just to fill empty space. He spoke only when he had something to say.

He pulled me down to sit next to him, and we were so close I was practically on his lap. I realised oddly that this was the second time I’d accidentally burned myself in front of him. It was just my luck that I’d keep doing that in front of someone who had almost died in a fire when he was a kid. Someone who had burn scars on his body that would never be healed. He cradled my one hand in both of his, then rubbed his thumb down the centre of my palm. I sucked in a breath at the contact. It still had a mark from where I’d touched the frying pan at work, but it wasn’t sore anymore.

All of a sudden, I became aware that Jack was unusually fascinated by the burns. I remembered him back at the restaurant when he’d stared at me with those intense eyes of his, a stare that made me come over all hot and sweaty. I’d thought he was trying to soothe me now, but he wasn’t. Well, not in the way I imagined. He was looking at the burn mark and my singed fingertips like they were a work of art, and he was completely captivated. He was so absorbed his eyes practically glowed with it. My mouth felt dry, and my stomach was doing somersaults. The camper van felt so quiet. All I could hear was his breathing, which was slightly quicker than usual.

Finally, I broke the quiet when I whispered his name. “Jack.”

It was like my voice had reminded him that he wasn’t alone in the room, just him and the work of art, because his gaze shot to me, and God, it burned more than the damage I’d done to my hand. In a split second he pushed me back so I was lying on the sofa, and he moved so that his hands were braced on either side of my shoulders. He held himself above me, barely touching me, chest rising and falling with his quickening breaths. My eyes flickered down, and I was startled to see the thick length of his erection outlined against his jeans.

He was turned on. Whoa.

His eyes flickered back and forth between mine, as though asking for permission, and I must have given it to him, because he began moving down until he reached my belly. He pushed my shirt up to just below my breasts, revealing the pale skin of my stomach and abdomen. Starting at my ribs, he began planting kisses downward, and I gasped at the sensation of his warm lips on me. When he reached the waistband of my jeans, he nuzzled the soft part of my belly, then shocked the hell out of me when he slid his hands over my hips and around to squeeze my backside. Quick as a flash, he lifted me and buried his face between my legs. A small yelp escaped me, tingles radiating down my spine and culminating everywhere he touched.

I think I could have come from that alone. He eyed me from below, moving his face back and forth, his nose hitting just the right spot, and I trembled with pleasure, reaching down to sink my hands into his hair. I felt him take a deep breath as though drinking in my scent, and I swear my entire body turned to jelly.

We were so lost in one another that I didn’t hear the door open and Lola step inside. I glanced up just as she turned and saw us there in the lounge, and my cheeks grew insanely red.

“Oh, wow, um, sorry to interrupt,” she said, and the moment Jack heard her, he pulled away from me like someone had given him an electric shock. I fell back into the seat when he dropped me, instantly missing the warmth of his hands…and his face. When I looked at him, he was standing, striding past Lola and straight out the door. I lay there in confusion, trying to comprehend how we got from me making sandwiches, to his face dry humping my vagina, to him skulking away like he’d just realised what a mistake he’d made.

“Crap, Lille, these sandwiches are completely burned,” Lola complained as she unplugged the toaster and sat down in a chair. A moment of awkward silence elapsed between us. In the grand scheme of things, we didn’t know one another very well, and she’d just walked in on quite the scene.

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up,” I said, still feeling entirely discombobulated.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry for walking in like that,” she apologised, and then a cheeky smile lit her face. “You two should have put a sock on the door handle or something.”

“What you saw, it wasn’t exactly planned,” I told her, fixing my top in place.

“No? So, do tell me, how did it come about? Because I swear, that is one of the hottest things I’ve seen in a while. He looked like he wanted to devour you from the inside out.”

I screwed up my mouth at her description and thought about her question. I didn’t really know how to answer it. Well, Lola, I burned my hand, and Jack got so turned on by it that he practically jumped on me.

Yeah, I definitely wasn’t telling her that. In all honesty, I still didn’t know how I felt about it.

“We were sitting on the couch, and it just kind of happened,” I lied, shrugging.

“I knew that he liked you, I could sense such a vibe,” she said, looking happy with herself. “Just remember what I said. Be careful. Enjoy the ride, but don’t let your heart get involved, and everything will be fine.”

She got up then and began putting some food away in the cupboards. I contemplated what she’d told me with a small feeling of dread. I felt like I’d already allowed my heart to become involved, and he hadn’t even kissed me yet. Just over twenty-four hours ago, he’d had another woman in his bed, and I was letting my heart get involved.

I couldn’t tell if I was being very, very reckless or just very, very naïve.

Sigh.

Of course, getting my heart broken was on my list, but it felt different in theory. Now that it was a real possibility, I was afraid, afraid of the pain I might have to endure once Jack discarded me. He seemed to be enjoying my company right now, but I wasn’t under any illusions that it was going to last.

Would I be able to pick myself up and move on? Be a better person for having the experience? I had no answers to those questions.

The next morning, the sun was shining again. I took a shower on the campsite and managed to get back to the camper without bumping into Jack. I left my hair down to dry in the sun and wore a simple sky-blue dress. I felt light and airy on the outside, but oh, so heavy on the inside.

Setting up my new easel, I placed a fresh canvas on the wood, adjusted the height, and then sat down to paint. Sometime later, a hand swept my hair along the back of my neck, knuckles brushing lightly across my skin. Pleasurable shivers skittered down my spine, and I closed my eyes for a second, savouring the touch, instinctively knowing it was him without having to look.

“That’s an odd picture of Bea you’re painting,” he commented, gripping my neck for a moment before letting go. I swallowed, watching as he went to grab a folding chair that had been resting against the side of the camper and sat down. I was secretly thrilled I’d done a good enough job of depicting her likeness that he knew right away it was Bea. He had a bottle of water with him, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink. Staring at his profile as he drank made me feel flush as I remembered the previous evening, how he’d kissed his way down my stomach.

“She asked for it. I think it’s pretty,” I replied, ogling him and dabbing my paintbrush into some yellow paint. I wasn’t sure why he’d decided to hang out with me, but I was pleased by the turn of events. A tiny part of me relished the fact that I never quite knew what he’d do next. We sat in companionable silence for over an hour. Jack alternated between watching me paint and reading a dog-eared paperback he’d brought with him. At the angle I was sitting, I couldn’t see the cover to tell what it was.

Violet had parked her camper van in a quieter spot on the site, so not many people passed by. Then I heard women chatting and some feminine giggles approaching us. I turned to find Julie and her two sisters strolling along, arm in arm. I’m not sure why, but I got really self-conscious and itchy, like I was doing something wrong by spending time with Jack. I knew that he and Julie weren’t a couple, but still my anxiety wouldn’t abate.

“Hi, Jack,” Julie called to him with a little finger wave. I pretended to focus on my painting as they drew nearer, while at the same time listening intently to the conversation that followed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod to the sisters and return his attention to his book. They stopped, and Molly asked, “What are you reading, Jack?” There was a flirtatious tone to her voice. “I do love a man who reads.” The other two giggled.

When Jack didn’t answer her, she ducked her head to see the cover and laughed. “The Hardy Boys? You do realise those books are for children, right?” All of a sudden, her tone was mocking rather than flirtatious, and I grew tense. When I glanced up, I saw that Julie’s blue eyes were trained on me while her sisters focused on Jack. Her mouth had formed an unhappy thin line. Swallowing, I kept dabbing my brush to the same part of my canvas, hoping she’d lose interest in me.

“Fuck off, Molly,” Jack replied, all matter-of-fact, and she let out a squeak of outrage.

“No need to be rude! I was only teasing.”

“Being a bitch, more like,” said Jack dismissively.

“You’re the face-painter girl, aren’t you?” said Julie, walking around to look at my canvas. I felt uncomfortable under her attention and had never really liked people looking at my half-finished works. She was so petite and well-formed, slim but muscular in an attractive way, that I felt myself deflate. How the hell could I compete with that?

I mustered a smile for her. “That’s me.”

She glanced at my painting, found nothing of interest, and then stepped away again. I soon discovered that she wasn’t a woman to beat around the bush when she waggled her finger between Jack and me. “So, what’s going on here?”

I was opening my mouth to say something, I wasn’t quite sure what, when Jack addressed her firmly. “Lille is painting. I’m reading. The three of you are interrupting.”

“Well,” said the third sister, Mary, “we know where we’re not wanted.” She tugged on Molly’s arm and the two walked away, but Julie remained.

“That’s not what I meant, and I think we all know that.”

Jack set his book down then and stared at her head on. He didn’t have to say a word, because the look he gave her was silencing enough. In a split second, she completely changed her tack, taking a strand of hair and twirling it around her finger.

She coughed to clear her throat. “Well, um, will I see you around the gazebo later? We’re having spaghetti bolognaise tonight, I think.”

“That’s where I usually eat,” said Jack.

She skipped forward, leant down, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Okay, great. I’ll see you later, then.”

Her attention flickered warily to me one last time, and then she left. I nearly laughed when I saw Jack roll his eyes before they slid to me and he frowned. “Sorry about that.”

I raised my eyebrows. “No need to apologise. It’s none of my business.”

The look he gave me seared me to the core, his voice dropping so low I almost didn’t hear him. “The fact I can still smell you on me says different.”

I’m sure I flushed bright pink at his words. My paintbrush had been levelled on the canvas, and I’d completely messed up Bea’s butterfly ears. I tried to keep my voice steady as I whispered, “Don’t play games with me, Jack.”

He ignored what I said, his face taking on a contemplative expression. “I wonder if we hadn’t been interrupted yesterday, would I have been able to make you come like that?”

I swallowed deeply and glanced at him. His eyes held a thousand dark, carnal promises, and I felt completely lost, had no idea how to respond. He made a noise that sounded a lot like a growl then as he came and knelt before me, his hands cupping my knees and spreading my thighs apart so he could get between them. Next, he began running his hands up and down my thighs; they were so much warmer than the afternoon sun, and I was suddenly melting.

“Do you come sweetly, Lille? Do you shake? Do you moan and beg for release?”

I licked my lips and moved my attention from his eyes down to his mouth. I was so worked up I felt like pushing him to the grass and taking my pleasure from his perfect, beautiful body without asking for permission. I knew I’d promised myself I’d be his friend, but maybe I could be his lover, too. You didn’t always have to sacrifice one to be the other, right?

I drew my gaze up to his eyes again and told him honestly, “You’re embarrassing me, Jack.”

His thumbs rubbed at my inner thighs, and I trembled.

“Am I making you wet, too?”

Air left my lungs in a single whoosh, and I closed my eyes, unable to look at him as I answered, “Yes.”

In the next second, his hands were travelling up to my neck, sinking into my hair, and my entire body felt a pull towards him like he was a magnet and I was a piece of metal. My face fell to his neck and I breathed him in, savoured the warmth of his skin. His arms went around me and pulled my body flush with his. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. When I pressed a kiss to his skin, my mouth open, tongue slipping out to lick, I felt him shudder in my arms. It stunned me to know my touch could affect him so. Had he been yearning for me the same way I’d been yearning for him?

“Your smell,” he growled, breathing deeply. “It drowns me.”

If my heart could have exploded out of my chest, it would have.

“Kiss me, Jack,” I begged, forcing myself to ask for what I truly wanted for once.

“I can’t,” he replied with a sigh of frustration.

“Please,” I whimpered desperately.

“When I kiss you, it will be everywhere. When I kiss you, I won’t stop there. If I taste you, I’ll want to taste everything.”

I fisted his shirt in my hand, silently cursing the fact that both Lola and Violet were inside the camper at this very moment and Jack’s camper was too far away. “Jesus, you’re killing me.”

His hands roamed my back, my thighs, my neck. All he had to do was slip his hand beneath my dress, and he’d be able to feel me, feel how much I needed him.

With a deep sigh he drew away, his jaw working like it took great effort to restrain himself. “Tonight, after the show, will you come to my place?” he asked, eyes hopeful.

“Yes.” There really was no other reply I could have given him. I felt hot and flushed all over, from my temples to the tips of my toes. I’d never been so worked up before in my life.

He brought his forehead to mine and breathed out, the air hitting my skin and strangely cooling it. “Thank you.”

Standing, he went to put away the folding chair he’d been sitting in and picked up his book. I frowned, remembering how Molly had mocked him for reading a kids’ book. I wanted to know why he was reading it. I mean, I knew adults read kids’ books all the time, but this was Jack. He was the last person I’d expected to be into stories like that.

I nodded to the battered paperback. “Is it any good?”

He grimaced, as though remembering that I now knew what he’d been reading. Was he embarrassed? For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed lost for words.

Scratching the back of his head, he finally replied, “Yeah, it’s…uh, Marina gave it to me. Well, she gave me a whole bunch of them.”

“Oh, right. That was nice of her.”

“Yeah. I have to go now,” he said abruptly, and turned on his heel. I watched his long strides as he walked away, not knowing what to think.