seventeen
Jack held me the whole way up in the elevator, refusing to put me down. We kissed slowly and leisurely, exploring each other’s mouths again, with serious attention to detail. When we got to his floor, he swung me up onto his back and carried me piggyback down the hall.
“Wow, swanky digs, Hamilton,” I said as I took in his suite from my perch on his back.
“Nothing but the best for this guy,” he said, closing the door and locking it behind us.
“I’ll say,” I responded softly, laying my cheek against his shoulder and squeezing his waist with my legs.
He walked me over to a big chair in the corner and dumped me unceremoniously.
“Hey!” I exclaimed.
He settled himself on the floor in front of me on his knees, his hands holding on to my legs. His fingertips made little patterns on my thighs.
“We need to finish talking,” I said gently, tracing his cheekbones and jawline with my fingertips. We seemed to need the physical contact.
“I know.” He sighed and laid his head in my lap.
I scratched his head.
He made Jack’s Happy Sound.
We sat like this for a while. Just being.
“Grace, I want to ask you something,” he said, his voice a little muffled by my thigh.
“Ask me anything.” And I meant it. No more secrets, no more half-truths, no more keeping anything from him.
“Did you mean it when you said you thought we were in a little sex bubble? Is that really all you think we are?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I sighed. “I was out of my mind when I said that. I do think we were in a bubble when we first were together in L.A., but only because everything was so fast and concentrated—and it was fantastic. Then I left. And we never got to see each other. There was never a normal progression to our relationship. Amazing, but not normal.”
It was his turn to sigh. But I put my hand under his chin and turned him back toward me.
“Here’s what I realized, Jack. What’s normal? That’s one of the things I was concerned about—this need to be normal, to be defined. Is it normal for two people so far apart in age to fall in love? Nope, but we did. Now think about everything else. Neither one of us is living a normal existence. Everything about us—our lives, our careers—is the opposite of normal. And how amazing is that?”
He grinned. “Fuck normal.”
“Yeah. I don’t want normal. All I want is you, George.”
He rose to his knees, bringing himself within kissing distance. “We still need to talk about some things,” he said, his green eyes beginning to darken.
“Yep,” I said, sliding down a little in the chair to get closer to my Brit.
“I want to hear more about this—what did you call it? Baby train? I want to hear about this baby train you may or may not be on,” he said, his hands slipping below me and hitching my legs up around his waist.
“Mm-hmm . . .” I snaked my arms around his neck as he lifted me out of the chair. He began to walk me toward the bedroom.
“And we need to have a very long talk about what we’re going to do if you get freaked out again,” he said, his eyes the color of the sky before a big, fat, Midwestern summer thunderstorm. In other words, really fucking dark.
I shivered a little. “I’m not gonna freak again. What if you get freaked?” I asked as we moved into his room.
He rolled his eyes as he held me above the bed, then dropped me. His eyes raked me up and down, and I scooted to the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head against his tummy. I inhaled deeply, breathing in that inherent Hamilton scent, and I felt warm and toasty instantly. I inhaled again and he chuckled, bringing his hands to me, brushing my hair back from my face as I looked up at him. I rested my chin on his belt buckle and gazed at him as he traced his fingertips across my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks, and finally my lips.
I parted them and took his thumb into my mouth, sucking gently. I pressed down slightly with my teeth and delighted in the lust that tore through his eyes at the sensation. I brought his thumb deeper into my mouth, tasting the salt of his skin, and I knew I wanted to take care of this man for the rest of my life.
I reached up and grasped his shoulders, pulling myself up, dragging my body against his along the way. Then I turned him so he was against the bed, and in one swift move, I removed his shirt and tossed it to the floor. He smiled, and I grinned back as I began to work at his jeans. I quickly pulled them down and helped him step out of them, along with his shoes.
I stepped back, tearing my sweater over my head and disposing of my bra. I stood before him, watching his eyes grow even darker as he took me in. Finally, I nudged my skirt down, stepping out of my panties so he could see all of me.
“Brilliant,” he breathed, and I pressed myself into his arms, kissing him deeply with everything I had. I trailed my hands to his boxers and pushed them down as well, again helping him step out of them.
We stood, gazing at each other, our eyes taking in all that we’d almost let get away—all I had very nearly thrown away. I reached behind him, grabbed a pillow, and dropped it at his feet. I pushed him backward to sit on the bed and placed his arms around me, pressing his head against my belly, hugging him close. His hands held my body, face nuzzling at my skin as I ran my hands through his hair. He began to kiss my tummy, dancing soft, wet kisses left to right, his nose dragging deliciously across my skin.
But this was about him.
I dropped to my knees and looked up at him. He cradled my face in his hands as I perched on the pillow, totally bare and full of love. “I could not love you more,” I whispered, and took him in hand. I stroked the length of him, fluttering my fingertips along his smooth skin, feeling the softness over the hard, silk over steel.
He closed his eyes and grinned that crooked grin as he felt me tending to him.
I kissed him sweetly and tenderly, then gently took him inside my mouth. His hands continued to hold my face, with just as much tenderness. I took him in slowly, exquisitely, and as he hit the back of my throat, he moaned. I withdrew slowly, following with my hand, squeezing gently and taking a quick look up at the perfection that was my Jack.
His head was thrown back, strong jaw clenched as he let me take care of him. I took him in again, swallowing and sucking and making my mouth tight around him. I swirled my tongue around his head, and then underneath, tickling gently while my nails dragged up and down the inside of his thighs and across his abdomen, eliciting a truly magnificent groan.
I let my teeth graze his length as I withdrew again, and as my hands took over for my mouth, I watched him. “Look at me, love,” I prompted, and he opened his lust-filled eyes. There was my green. His hands dug into my hair as I took him in my mouth again, and he groaned as he watched me pump him in and out of my mouth, faster now and with conviction. I sucked, swirled, teased, tantalized, and loved him as only I could—and only I would, from now on.
As his hips began to buck faster and his hands became more urgent, I could feel myself becoming aroused by his arousal and the sweet sounds he made before he came. I moved with him, taking him in deeper and deeper and letting my hands take over what my mouth could not.
His hands were constantly in my hair, guiding me, moving me with him, and I knew he was seconds away from his release. Selfishly, I wanted to watch him—there’s nothing in the world more beautiful than the sight of my Jack coming. But this was about him, and making him feel this as intensely as possible, so I kept my mouth around him while I felt him begin to shake.
His breath came fast and loud, his groans grew guttural, and just before I brought him to where he needed to be, he moaned my name.
“Grace,” he said, the word falling from his lips as he came brilliantly.
I stayed with him the entire time, caring for him while he moaned above me, his hands lazy in my hair as his breath slowed. Then I kissed up one thigh and down the other, smiling into his skin.
He was shaking, and as I stood to climb into bed with him, his hands shot out and cuddled me to him. He hugged me close, clutching as his breathing became steady again. I wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I could, sweeping kisses across his forehead, pressing my fingertips to his temples and cheeks.
“Come here, please?” I asked, and moved to lie on the bed. I pulled him down to me, draping the comforter over us as we tried to get as close to each other as we could. His head nestled between my chest and shoulder, and his hands came up to my breasts. I trailed my fingers up and down his back, drawing circles as I wrapped my legs around his thighs, hugging him with my entire body.
He was still shivering a little, still coming down. I held him close and whispered “I love you” over and over again as I kissed his head.
He finally stopped shaking and sighed greatly. “I love you too, Gracie, more than you could possibly know,” he whispered and nuzzled into my neck farther.
“Thank you, George. Thank you,” I whispered as I clung to him.
“You smell like coconuts and clean laundry,” he breathed, and promptly fell asleep.
I was home.
We woke from our nap a few hours later, hunger finally drawing us to the room-service menu. Our long-forgotten lunch, coupled with our coupling, made for a famished George and Gracie. I padded about in his shirt and he lounged in his jeans, and we ordered PB&Js and chicken noodle soup, Four Seasons style.
After our feast arrived, we returned to the bedroom, sandwiches and bowls of soup along for the ride, and crawled back into bed. We ate sitting cross-legged next to each other, and I admitted that I’d seen Time.
“Was the theater crowded?” he asked through a mouthful of jelly.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Sweet Nuts, and yes, it was very crowded. There was a fair amount of squealing when you first appeared on-screen.”
He blushed and rolled his eyes.
“And the love scenes? Hot, love, very hot. The women loved it. Of course I was miserable,” I told him, sipping my soup.
He choked a little on his own soup, dribbling noodles onto his chin.
I laughed and handed him a napkin.
“Thanks, but why were you miserable?”
“Because I didn’t know if I’d ever get to be with you again, and it made me really sad,” I said, looking down into my soup, chasing the noodles with my spoon. “I’d also eaten an entire bucket of popcorn, so I felt a little sick to my tummy,” I added, which made him smile.
He rubbed my tummy absently as he took another bite of his PB&J, chewing thoughtfully. I set my bowl on the night-stand and brushed the crumbs off my lap.
“I wondered that myself, Grace—whether I’d kissed you for the last time, and if we’d ever be here again, like this,” he said, swallowing hard and setting his plate down on his side of the bed.
Different city, different bed, and yet we each gravitated to our own side. Comforting. But now we were in the middle.
I leaned against his shoulder, and he brought his arm up around me, letting me snuggle into his side.
“It’s a damn good thing we’re back together, Nuts Girl,” he said.
“Mmm, yes it is,” I said, snuggling closer and draping my leg over his, angling me toward him.
“Especially since the last time we had sex, you had a T-shirt on your head for most of it. That’s hardly the way to go out.” He laughed.
“As I recall, you weren’t complaining for long.” I giggled as I let my hand wander across his tummy, my fingers grasping here and there at the little hairs on his happy trail.
“Oh, God, no, it was amazing as always. But hardly the way you’d want to do it, if that was gonna be our last fuck,” he said seriously, his eyes betraying his tone.
“That’s crass, George,” I sassed, letting my fingers dip below the top of his halfway-unbuttoned jeans.
His long fingers began to work the buttons on my shirt, and my pulse raced instantly.
“Did I tell you, by the way, how much I enjoyed that earlier?” he whispered, his tongue grazing the skin my opening shirt revealed.
I shivered and felt my skin tighten. “I had a feeling,” I said, pulling open the last few buttons on his jeans.
He knelt in front of me, finishing with the shirt and parting it before him. He left kisses on my skin as he moved down my body, stopping to look back up at me with a devilish grin. As soon as he was able, he was between my legs.
Yes.
He kissed up and down each thigh, making me shake as he pressed his lips to my skin. “The thought that I’d never taste you again, Crazy? Almost more than I could stand,” he whispered, as he kissed my sex softly.
I moaned thickly and let my head drop back to the pillow.
“The thought that I’d never get to watch you come again? Impossible.” He groaned and swept me open with his magic fingers. His tongue found me instantly, perfectly, and my entire body tensed, then relaxed under his mouth.
There truly was no man better suited for me in the world. He was mine, I was his, and that was the truth.
I let myself go, let myself feel everything he was giving me. His hands, his lips, his fingers, his mouth, his tongue all flowed together into one insane moment, and as I felt my body contract, tighten, and then unleash, I was filled with the most sublime sense of awe. I was blessed.
When he marked me with his brand, my breath left me. I belonged to him completely. I would never belong to anyone else. He called me his Nuts Girl, and I knew this was the man I was put on this earth to love. And I finally knew I was strong enough to be his girl.
When he entered my body and filled me up, there were tears—my own and maybe even a few of his. But we smiled as we came together, in every sense of the word. We both said, “I love you,” and it meant everything.
And when the lovin’ was through, and he was behind me, arms around me and hands on boobies, I was blissfully content.
We were silly, we were unique, we were thankfully not normal, and we were perfectly matched. George and Gracie were back.
Jack could only stay one more day. He was booked so solidly with interviews, it was amazing he’d managed to come out at all, but the man was determined. Thank God. He accompanied me to the theater that night and watched the show a second time, cheering loud and proud all over again.
After the show I futzed in my dressing room and had just finished scrubbing off my makeup when I saw him walking down the hall. I started to open the door wider for him when I saw Michael ’round the opposite corner. They almost collided, and when each realized who the other was, they both tensed. I considered going out to referee but stepped back to listen instead.
“Hey,” Michael said, determined to be nonchalant.
“Hey,” Jack said, intentionally nonchalant as well.
“It’s great you could be here. I know Grace is thrilled.”
“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?” Jack responded, a pronounced edge to his voice.
“Hey, man, you should know. Grace and I? Friends. That’s it. I thought there was something there, but I was wrong.”
“Yep.”
“So I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Yep,” Jack said, continuing down the hall toward where I was hiding behind the door. He stopped a few feet away and turned back around.
“Hey, O’Connell,” he called.
“Yeah?”
“It’s a good show, man. It’s really good.” Jack smiled a little.
“Thanks. Grace makes it better,” Michael called back, smiling as he walked away.
“Grace makes it better,” I heard Jack repeat slightly snarkily under his breath. Then he walked into my dressing room with a genuine smile on his face.
“Hi,” he said, closing the door.
“Hi, yourself,” I answered, primly tightening my robe around me. He took my hands and kissed them before kissing my lips once, twice, then a third time, sweetly and succinctly.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, and pulled me into a bear hug. He lifted me off the floor, and I laughed at the tightness of his arms. He let me go finally, and his eyes were shining as he looked at me. “Are you gonna go all Broadway on me now, sweet girl?” he asked, chucking me under the chin.
“Not unless you go all Hollywood on me,” I answered, messing his hair.
We spent another not so quiet night at his hotel, and the next morning I rode with him to LaGuardia. I sat on his lap in the cab, holding him tightly. This time it was going to be even harder to let him go.
We’d spent the night catching quick cat naps between love and talk. I told him I’d like the chance to apologize to Marcia, and perhaps we could all get together for dinner the next time I was in L.A. Who knew when that was going to be, but I was hoping for Christmas.
We were never going to have the kind of relationship that allowed us to see each other every day, at least not for the foreseeable future. And Jack would probably never come home from work with a briefcase after a hard day. He’d probably never cut the lawn on the weekend. And while I do own several aprons and make a kick-ass meat loaf, I’d likely never be the “little woman,” marinating in a traditional house in the suburbs.
Neither of us really wanted that, but I did divulge a little fantasy I had about role-playing: me in only an apron and him with a briefcase. He agreed wholeheartedly, providing that I wear high heels like Donna Reed. And we both dissolved into laughter when I mentioned I’d also wear my pearl necklace. We watched as the Manhattan night gave way to a gray morning, then showered quickly and headed out.
We knew there were still things we had to talk about and work through, but we were both optimistic now. We were a team. And when we pulled up to the airport and I had to let him go again, I felt a newfound strength of spirit. I kissed him fiercely in the cab, wrapping my arms around him and telling him I loved him over and over again. Our antics in the Four Seasons elevator the day before, while romantic and sweet, were not smart, and we’d agreed to go back to being as discreet as possible. We weren’t hiding, but we wouldn’t flaunt it either. It just made more sense to use discretion.
And besides, there was something wonderfully wicked about knowing he and I could have something private, just us. The entire world was clamoring to know about him, but we could have our personal life be just for us, for as long as we could keep it that way.
“Call me when you land in L.A.?” I asked, sweeping kisses across his face as he held me tight.
“Of course,” he answered, kissing me breathless.
“And you behave out there, hear me? No more benders?” I teased, but I did have a legitimate twinge of concern over his coping method of choice when left on his own.
“No more benders.” He smiled back.
“Thank you, George.” I sighed into his neck, feeling the tears begin.
“For what, Gracie?” He raised my chin to look at me.
“For not giving up on me,” I answered, and he smiled my favorite smile.
“That’s my schmaltzy girl,” he said, his eyes full of love.
A horn blaring shocked us out of our reverie, and we laughed as our cabbie swore in three languages at the other driver.
Jack kissed me once more, told me he loved me, and was gone. He disappeared into a sea of people inside the terminal, hoodie up and shades on.
I was sad, but not as sad as I thought I’d be. I knew now we could get through just about anything, including the sort of terror I alone could produce. I knew now what it felt like to be without him, and that would never happen again.
As the cab headed back into the city, my phone blipped. I had a text.
Thanks for leaving me with a little schmaltz.