Maybe Later

by Claudia Burgoa

ELanc90: How will I recognize you?

  JSpear84: See you tomorrow, Em.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Emmeline

  Saturday, September 10th, 11:23 a.m.

  My heart beats as fast as a hummingbird’s as I walk toward the bookstore. I tossed and turned all night trying to figure out what to do today. I’m meeting Jackson, and I can’t deny that our attraction is still there. At least, my attraction to him. He has a girlfriend. Well, ex and she broke his heart. But she called him again, and he’s willing to give her a chance.

  So why are we meeting?

  Closing a chapter and opening a new one should be easy. If only I knew which one to shut and which one to open. Would Jackson even want to move beyond friendship?

  I hold onto the railing as I walk down the stairs. It’s safe to say that I’m a nervous wreck. Finally, I’m meeting the man behind the screen. When I open the door, the place is quiet. Kara is carrying some boxes, and the shelves are pristine, just the way she loves them.

  “Hey, Kara,” I greet her, stepping inside.

  “Emmeline, how are you?” she greets me. “You’re a few minutes early.”

  I nod, dismissing her comment. How would she know I’m early? Wait, did she call me by my name? That’s weird. Instead of focusing on her, I look around the shelves. As I walk through the classics, I spot a collection that would look perfect in my apartment. The black spine and gold letters remind me of the books my grandmother used to have on her shelves. These babies are mine. My breath catches when I pull out the copy of Persuasion. It reminds me of Jackson and his trip to New York. It’s in perfect condition. If I can’t afford the set, at least, I’ll buy this one.

  I open the first page and spot a written dedication that leaves me breathless:

  Em,

  I never thought I’d fall in love.

  But I did. It was fast, undeniably beautiful, and forever.

  It’s never too late to make it work.

  Jack

  9/21

  The dedication feels so personal. Mine. It has my birthdate. It’s a secret between two souls. But it’s signed: Jack. My heart beats a fast rhythm. How? I look around and call after him.

  “Jack, Jackson?” I taste the name, the possibilities and shudder nervously. What are the chances?

  I spot him, Jack, sitting by the table where I sometimes work. He wears a dark t-shirt with the EMC Software logo that shows his muscles. He gives me that smile I’ve missed for the past three months.

  Slowly, he rises from his seat without moving his gaze from mine.

  “Jackson?” I almost stutter trying to wrap my head around what’s happening.

  “My name is Jackson Spearman,” he confirms. I remember our chat where he said he had lied by omission. “Only my family and friends call me Jack. It’s nice to finally meet you, all of you.”

  My lip quivers because everything makes so much sense—how I was falling for him but couldn’t stop having feelings for the guy behind the screen.

  I tremble. This is like a dream, a good one where I finally find him. I’m thrilled that he’s the same man, not half of who I was with. The maddening, fun guy during the day and the perfect man at night.

  “Would you hate me if I said I wanted it to be you?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Hi, Em.” He greets me and takes me into his arms. As he brushes his lips against my skin, I melt.

  “You’re Jackson.” I squeeze my eyes, embarrassed. “You knew all this time.”

  “I caught on when you mentioned my last name during our date,” he says, not letting me go. “It pissed me off because I thought you were playing me. I mean, you know everything.”

  “Sorry to tell you this, buddy, but there are at least ten million guys named Jack or Jackson in the world,” I joke, wrapping my arms around him. “You confused the hell out of me.”

  He kisses my nose and says, “You stole my soul, and my heart, but I’m not complaining.”

  I cup his handsome face and stare into his dark eyes. “Did I?” I ask, bewildered.

  He rests his forehead on mine and asks, “Is it too early to tell you that I love you?”

  There’s no time to answer, his mouth covers mine with a devouring kiss, and not just a regular kiss—he was making love to my mouth and caressing my soul. I go weak as I mold into his hold.

  He breaks the kiss with a quiet curse. “We have to go home.”

  “My house is closer,” I argue fixing my wrinkled button-down dress.

  “Ramen won’t let me be with you,” he reminds me, and I laugh.

  “She misses her Jack,” I say.

  His gaze sweeps my body from head to toe, and he asks, “What’s underneath?”

  “Wouldn’t you want to know,” I ask, chewing on my lip.

  “You are killing me, Em,” he holds up my chin with his index finger.

  “Thank you for waiting,” I whisper, taking the book. “Is this mine?”

  He nods. “The entire collection. It’s an early birthday present.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “It had to happen at the right time. But I wasn’t going to let you go. Ever.”

  * * *

  “There’s no dungeon,” he warns me as he opens the door to his penthouse.

  It’s still cold, with leather couches, dark furniture, top of the line appliances and marble everywhere.

  “You keep saying that, so I don’t run away scared,” I tease him. “I can’t feel you in here. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t too happy about this place. There aren’t any pictures or books.”

  “The library,” he says, taking my hand. “We’ll tour later. The last time we were here, you were in my bed, and I had plans for you.”

  “Do you now?”

  I ask as we rush up the staircase.

  He stops right by the door to his bedroom and inspects my arm. “How’s your wrist?”

  “Like new. Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “I wish you had stayed all week,” he confesses as we enter his room. “You had me worried and then poof, you disappeared.”

  Before I can apologize, he pulls me against his body. I thread my fingers through his hair, gently tugging his head down. He groans low in his throat as he crushes my mouth with his.

  I’m in heaven, but the kiss isn’t enough. I press myself against his hard length. I want so much more. His mouth trails hot kisses along my jaw and the back of my ear. His hands move up and down my back, pulling back my head, exposing my throat.

  I’m ready to lose myself and my heart to this man.

  “Take off your dress,” he orders. “I’ve been wanting to see you strip and I think you wanted to strip for me today.”

  I lick my lips rubbing one of the buttons of my short, shirt dress. “Did I now?”

  He traces a finger along my jaw and neck down the line of buttons all the way to the hem, then, he lifts the fabric until he almost touches my center. “Stockings? Miss Lancaster, I think your intentions are clear,” he lets my dress go.

  I curl my fingers and say, “Hand me your phone, open the Spotify app.”

  Searching for my profile, I find one of my playlists. I press play and toss the phone on the bed.

  I don’t tear my gaze from his. Slowly, at the rhythm of Strip That Down for Me by Liam Payne, I unfastened the wide leather belt at my waist, letting it fall to the floor. Moving my hips, I continue unbuttoning the blouse, leisurely. His eyes brighten with lust, the corner of his lips tug into a cocky smile.

  Tugging the garment from my body, I toss it aside, then I untie my hair, letting it fall down my back. I’m left with a black lace bodice, a garter, and stockings.

  The heat of his gaze makes me wet. I reach for the tie on the bodice, but he stops me. “No. I’m in charge of the rest.”

  I squirm with the sound of his gravelly voice.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says, stepping closer to me. His big palms slide over my rib cage and down my belly toward my center. “Do you have any idea h
ow much I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

  “Jack,” I moan his name as he cups my mound gently squeezing it.

  His hands slip into my panties, one of his fingers moving over my clit. I squeeze my eyes and my legs.

  I’m hot, achy, and needy for him.

  “I want to pull your panties aside and bury myself inside you,” he says, as he lets my body go.

  I gulp and stare at him, turned on by the way he’s talking, by what he’s saying.

  He winks at me. “Today, I want to enjoy you. Make up for all the time we’ve missed. After all, we have an eternity to share.”

  I almost cry, overwhelmed with need and emotion.

  “Are you okay, babe?” he asks tenderly.

  My Jack, he can be cold and demanding but for me, he’s always who I need him to be. Why didn’t I see that from the beginning?

  “Love me,” I request.

  “I find you scary as hell,” he says. “but, tempting and over everything else, wonderful. I’m fucking thankful you’re the one who stole my heart.”

  “Sorry for breaking it,” I apologize.

  He shakes his head. “It was worth it.” He presses his mouth to the back of my ear and nips my earlobe with his teeth. “I finally see you, all of you.”

  Jack pushes me to the bed. He lies next to me, his eyes never leaving mine. His nose brushes my throat. His mouth nibbles my neck, my collar bone, until he unties the bodice exposing my breasts.

  He lowers his head and kisses the swell between my breasts. My nipples perk anxiously wanting to be touched. He cups one breast and brings his mouth to the other, lapping the tight bud over and over again.

  I moan, desperately as his tongue traces a path down my torso until he reaches my center. He takes my panties off but leaves on the garter and the stockings. His eyes connect with mine before he opens my legs wide, and as his tongue slides over my clit, I groan his name. The feeling is overwhelming. He doesn’t speak, but sucks my clit into his mouth. Stroking it rapidly while two long fingers slide deep into my clenching pussy. A third he presses to my ass.

  Swollen, desperate and near the edge, I push myself toward his face begging for release. It’s all too much, and as his tongue works my raw flesh, sucking and drawing me higher and higher into oblivion, I finally explode into a perfect bliss.

  He thrusts his fingers deeper, rotating them inside me. I moan as he continues pushing my pleasure, extending the orgasm.

  “Ready?” he asks, pulling off his t-shirt and unfastening his pants.

  I gasp as he frees his massive length. I’m not sure where to look, those perfect pecs, his taut abs, or the impressive, thick cock that has me salivating. I want him to fill every inch of me with it.

  He pulls out a condom from his nightstand and puts it on before centering himself between my legs.

  His eyes glimmer with intensity looking as if he’s ready to take the most significant step of his life and surrender everything. “Are you sure you want this?”

  “Yes, please,” I say, afraid he’ll disappear, and I’ll wake up. My breathing changes with the anticipation of his touch.

  His cock rests on my seam. Our eyes connect, and I don’t move as his hips begin to grind and his length rubs against my opening. The head of his cock slipping inside me, inch by inch. My body adjusts to his thickness, accommodating his girth.

  “God,” he says once he’s buried all the way inside me and I feel as he breaks me into a million pieces.

  He kisses the corner of my mouth then takes it all in. Drinking me as if I was a glass of water and he’s been walking through the desert. He puts every broken piece of my heart back but differently. I feel more like myself than I’ve felt in years. I’m burning for him, as his hand continues touching me. He knows exactly what I need, how to love me, and how to fuck me.

  Molten heat builds inside me. I’m again at the brink of another orgasm. He’s holding his breath, tensing. His mouth releases mine, those dark eyes looking at me with adoration. His thumb slips between my swollen lips, and he rubs my clit. I cry out as my body begins to tremble. My pussy clenching around him as we both shatter.

  We cling onto each other for a long moment, our mouths locked just like our bodies.

  Every emotion swirling inside me finally settles as my body stops trembling. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. He just became my air. Our kiss slows down he moves. He’s so gentle.

  “I love you,” I say as we break the kiss.

  “I adore you, Em,” he says quietly, nuzzling my nose. “You’re my entire world, never leave this bed again.”

  Epilogue

  Jack

  One year later …

  Saturday, September 23rd, 6:59 p.m.

  Emmeline isn’t predictable, but she likes to follow a schedule when she travels. I had to get used to it. She usually has plans, and I have to use a trick or two to rearrange them. A week in New York with her always feels like a day. There’s so much to do and not enough time. Tonight, we’re supposed to eat at some fancy Japanese restaurant. It’s new, and she used her connections to get us a table.

  She thinks she wants to go there when in reality, she would enjoy going to Hakubi a lot more. It’s one of the best, hidden, traditional Japanese restaurants in NYC.

  “When do I get my special present?” she asks as we walk along Park Avenue toward Thirty-eighth.

  “The food isn’t enough?”

  “I gave up a reservation at the best restaurant in Manhattan, Jackson Spearman, because you offered a special present.”

  When we arrive at the Kitano, where the restaurant is, she narrows her gaze and shakes her head.

  The hostess nods as we arrive and when I give her my last name, she tilts her head for us to follow her.

  “Do you know her?”

  “Shh, you’re spoiling the surprise,” I say in a low voice.

  As we arrive in the private room, Em gasps. The area has a small table at the center with pillows around it for us to sit. Tea lights and cherry blossoms adorn the room.

  “This is beautiful,” she says.

  She takes in the entire space and stops when she sees me on one knee.

  “Jack,” she says and brings her hand to her mouth.

  “I love you, Emmeline. We’re not a fairy tale or part of a fantasy. We’re a reality. A love story that we write every day. Our story built slowly, in two different worlds, with two different hearts, fusing into just one big love. Our story is rare, imperfect, and unexplainable at times. We can’t control it. It’s filled with love and magic, which are inexplicable. It’s confusing, complicated and messy but beautiful. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, getting to know everything about you. Life can’t get better than this. Having a woman who challenges me, sends me naughty texts, helps me with my company and allows me to be her companion. Emmeline Lancaster, would you marry me?”

  “Yes!” she says. Her eyes tear, and she loops her arms around my neck.

  “I love you so much, Jack Spearman.” She kisses me, unable to contain her tears. “This is the best birthday week in the entire history of the world.”

  She takes out a small box from her purse and says, “Happy Birthday, Jack. I’m glad we got this out of the way before my present.”

  The box is thin and large. It could fit a watch. I look at the Bvlgari she gifted me last Christmas. There’s an inscription on the back that reads: There’s always time for love, Em.

  When I open it, my eyes bulge at the sight of a white stick with two pink lines on the small screen. “Are we?”

  “I know a pregnancy test doesn’t seem like much but—”

  “It’s as amazing as you saying, yes to becoming my wife.” I lift her from the floor and crush my mouth to hers.

  I never knew how much I wanted a family of my own until I met Emmeline.

  “When is she arriving?”

  “According to my calculations he was conceived in Bora Bora.” She gives me a sultry smile. “Not that we pla
nned it, but I’m so happy.”

  We decided to stop using protection a week after she moved in with me. Right after our first trip to New York, a year ago. She was on the pill, but she stopped taking last June since we learned it takes about a year or two for her body to detoxify from the effects. I guess her system is faster.

  “You make me the happiest man alive.”

  “I love you forever, Jack.”

  * * *

  Emmeline

  Six months later

  Monday, March 4th, 7:32 a.m.

  It’s been two years since Jackson Spearman came to my life. I wasn’t ready for him. Nothing I’ve read or lived had prepared me for what we experienced. He didn’t arrive with a warning. He knocked me off my feet. He’s everything that I want, tender, playful, both wicked and flawed.

  Love is unpredictable and transcends as you grow. But some things never change. I want him more and more every day. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone and crave him intensely, I can’t get enough of him.

  He’s the best husband I could’ve asked for. We aren’t perfect, and our relationship is far from a fairy tale. He said it when he proposed and with his vows. This story isn’t a fantasy. Our love story is real, filled with magic, love, and lots of flaws.

  I wouldn’t change him or the life we share for anything. I can’t imagine not spending time beside him, curled up against his body as I listen to his heartbeat and trace lines across his skin.

  As my company grows and my belly along with it, I’ve been delegating a lot of responsibilities. In ten weeks, I’m going to become a full-time mom. At least for a year, afterward I’ll decide how to handle motherhood and my career. I should be savvy enough to balance both. Jackson and I agree that our children will always come first.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” I ask as I enter the kitchen.

  “You looked peaceful,” he answers scribbling something.

  “What are you doing?” I ask curiously.

  Before I sit next to him, I pour hot water into my favorite mug and prepare my daily tea.

  “I’m filling out the questionnaire,” he answers. “It’s a couple of years overdue, but I thought I should do it today.”