by Rosie Miller
“No. It’s not for people like you. It’s—well, there are some crazy folk out there.” He grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“You never know.” She smiled. They were here, in the motel room, alone, together. She had just survived a near-death experience. She was wearing her bath towel—just —and nothing else. Last night he had made love to her with a fierce passion. Tonight, she wanted that again. She let the towel fall a little more.
He reached towards her, and she felt certain he was going to pull it down and touch her.
But he didn’t. He tugged the towel up again. “It’s falling down,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.
“Is that a problem?” She smiled at him.
He didn’t look at her. “Look. I’ll sleep on the floor tonight. You take the bed.”
She gazed at him. This wasn’t the man who had taken her with so much passion last night. “We can share the bed,” she suggested.
“No, no. I can’t.” He still wouldn’t look at her.
She reached up and ran her fingers through her damp hair, brushing it back from her face. Her towel dropped to her waist. “Oops,” she giggled. “Excuse me.”
Before she could pull it up again, Jackson’s arms were around her and his mouth was on hers. He pressed her back into the bed. His clothes felt rough against her bare skin.
His tongue forced between her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting him. His hand was caressing her—stroking down her neck from her ear to her collar bone. Then he kissed her neck—his warm lips nibbling at her. It reminded of the dog—the wolf—and she felt a shiver of fear. She pulled Jackson even closer to her.
He worked downwards from her neck to her chest. His lips were warm, kissing and nuzzling at her. He kissed the soft flesh of her breast. He held it in his hand, squeezing softly as he licked the tip. She tingled all over as she felt his tongue across her nipple. It felt good. She tried not to think of the wolf doing it too—of how it had looked at her—almost as if it was wondering if she was enjoying it. She concentrated on Jackson’s tongue flicking across her taut flesh. Focus on Jackson—and nothing else. But before she could, he pushed himself away from her and stood up.
“No. I can’t. I mustn’t.”
Was he talking to her or to himself? She felt abandoned. “Come on, Jackson, where’s the harm?”
He glared at her—like she had done something unforgivable. “You—I—no—it’s not happening. I can’t and I won’t.”
She pulled the towel up slowly. A mix of anger and hurt flowed through her. How could he kiss her like that—touch her like that—and then say no? Why was it okay to do it in the dark, on a sofa—but not here, in a motel room? “Why? What’s different today?”
He frowned. “Nothing. This is the way it is. This is the way it always has to be. Me and you – it can’t happen. It mustn’t. It’s not right.”
“But why?” If only he’d tell her.
“Just because.”
He was infuriating. How could you want someone and hate someone so much at the same time? She didn’t know whether she wanted to slap him or kiss him. But she had her pride—and she wasn’t going to beg.
Perhaps he’d join her later—perhaps he could only do it in the dark at midnight. “You really are a strange one Jackson.” She leaned forward and pecked his cheek. “So, it’s bedtime then? You’re welcome to share the bed, you know. We don’t have to do anything.”
“No. I can’t.” He looked at her then, and there was desire in his face, his eyes, but something else too—was it misery? “I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” She wanted him, and he wanted her. But if this was the way Jackson was going to play it, then this was the way it would be.
She got ready for bed and slid naked under the covers.
Jackson lay on the floor.
She looked at him again. He was so handsome and sexy. What a waste—when he could be here next to her. Justine sighed and closed her eyes. She would wake up in the night and ‘accidentally’ trip over him and wake him up and see if he behaved the same way as he had done last night.
She knew she wanted him again. She lay there thinking of how he’d grabbed her and pinned her down—how he’d and kissed her and caressed her until she’d climaxed—and then the feel of him inside her. She’d get up soon and wake him. In ten minutes, just ten minutes, Justine thought, as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
The next thing Justine knew, sunlight was streaming through the thin curtains. She could hear the shower running. She stretched lazily. She’d slept solidly—and alone—through the night.
Jackson came out of the shower and smiled at her. “Wake-up sleepy-head.”
He toweled his hair dry. He looked taut and muscular, with a thin fine dark hair covering his chest and running down his belly.
Why did he have to look so good? She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.
It should have felt strange, their first morning together—especially after he had refused to be with her last night. But it didn’t feel awkward at all. In fact, it felt right to have him there—to share the room—to be so close together. If only this was the morning after a great night together, it would be perfect.
They packed up and checked out, then stopped for breakfast at a diner on the way to the airport.
She felt like a proper couple sitting there, drinking coffee, picking at her eggs and toast while Jackson ate.
“Are you on the Atkins diet, or bodybuilding?” she asked as he ordered a steak for breakfast.
“Neither. I just need the energy.”
“Are you seeing someone?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. But why not? He’d made love to her that night in the lodge and then pretended it had never happened. Now they’d spent another night together, chastely separate. She needed to know what was going on with him.
“There is this woman. She’s amazing. Intelligent, funny, hot, sexy…”
Her heart sank at the words. Of course. There was always someone else.
He leaned over and kissed her suddenly, his lips grazing hers. “She’s called Justine.”
She couldn’t stop herself grinning widely. “She sounds pretty fabulous. Are you serious about her?” The question was out before Justine could self-censor. She didn’t want to look needy. But what was it between them? Just sex, or something more?
His smile faded. “I would be—if I could. But I can’t.”
The words hit her like a blow to the chest. All the joy she had felt a moment ago fizzled away. But she wouldn’t let him know that. “Because?”
The waitress came to replenish their cups and stayed to chat a while. Justine managed to smile and make conversation although all she wanted to do was to plant a well-placed foot on her butt and kick her right away from their table so she could hear Jackson’s answer. Finally, she left.
“Because?” Justine repeated. She needed to know.
“I have commitments. I have stuff. Look—however much I like you and I really, I really do—I shouldn’t even be with you now, not at all. It’s dangerous for you.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I do.” He spoke firmly and with a heavy finality.
“So what are these commitments?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
“So you really like me but you can’t be with me, and you won’t tell me what these mysterious ‘commitments’ are—what this stuff is?” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice.
He shook his head stubbornly, like a kid who has promised not to tell on his friends.
She sighed. It was so good between them. Why couldn’t they be a real couple? But she couldn’t force him.
“Look, let’s not worry about the future. We’ve had some fun, right?” She’d be strong.
“Right,” he agreed although he looked suddenly miserable.
“And I’ll see you at work sometimes. And maybe…” She let her voice trail off, smil
ing at him, wondering if she could tempt him into some casual encounters and see where things went from there.
He smiled. But his eyes looked bleak and miserable. He shook his head. “We really shouldn’t. God knows I want to. But I can’t. I mustn’t.”
“I get it. It’s not me—it’s you.” It was the oldest brush-off in the book. How could he tell her how special she was and then two minutes later say he couldn’t see her again?
He nodded, not looking at her.
Her throat seemed to close up and she couldn’t swallow her coffee. She couldn’t eat either—her stomach felt like it was full of lead. She had to face it. That night in the lodge was a one-off. She had just been a casual one-night stand for Jackson, and now he wanted out. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to be with her last night in the motel room. Whatever he said —however much he claimed to want to be with her—it was over between them.
The carefree mood had gone. Even the sun didn’t seem to be shining so brightly anymore. She couldn’t think of anything else to say to him and they sat in a tense awkward silence.
He ate quickly, not looking at her. His face was dark, closed in, angry.
He drove her to the airport and parked up and carried her bag to the check-in counter.
She was ready to go. She looked at him, taking in the detail of his face. Here, in the airport—his hunting clothes, his stubble, his bruised face—made him look wild and dangerous. Why did he have to look so damn sexy when she had to say goodbye to him?
“Thanks for looking out for me last night.” She managed to keep her voice calm, despite her racing pulse. She reached out and took her bag from him. For a moment their fingers touched.
He looked into her eyes and she gazed back.
He looked away. “No problem.”
“Let me know if you find my camera.”
“I will.”
“See you around.” She was determined not to act sad or upset.
“Justine.”
She stopped, looking at him.
She could see how tense and angry he was.
“Yes?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Me and you. It was something special.”
Was.’ She nodded. “But it’s over now.” Was it a statement or a question?
“Yes. I am so sorry. If it could be any other way…”
“But it can’t.”
He shook his head.
“And you won’t tell me why?”
Again, the shake of the head.
“It was special. But you’re right. It’s over now.” She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek—knowing she’d never feel his skin again or smell his earthy scent.
“I’m sorry,” he said miserably.
She walked through the check-in, not looking back. ‘Sorry’ – they always were.
She boarded the plane alone.
She knew he’d wanted her with a passion—an intensity—that she’d never experienced before. And she wanted him too. But he held back, even though he didn’t want to. Justine knew it had to be something to do with his hometown. But if he wasn’t married, and it wasn’t a religious sect, then what was it? Was it something to do with all the naked people in the hunting lodge, or his strange, sexy, dangerous brother?
She sighed and settled into her seat as the plane taxied towards the runway.
Whatever was going on with Jackson, she wasn’t going to date clients, so it was best like this. She’d get back to town and forget about him. She would treat him like any other client and focus on getting through the next couple of months. Then she could start looking for a decent job away from all the charity sector and get her life back on track. She’d update her wardrobe, get some new clothes and may be a new hair style. She’d join one of the top firms and scout out the accounts office—everyone knew that was the best place to find a husband. They earned plenty but weren’t so alpha male that they’d trade you in for a younger model after ten years.
Yes, she decided, as the plane took off. She’d forget about Jackson and find herself a decent, reliable accountant. She’d marry him, buy a house in the suburbs, have kids, and live happily ever after.
Somehow the thought filled her with misery.
But she certainly wasn’t interested in whatever Jackson and his band of rednecks were up to out in the woods. She’d treat him like he deserved next time she saw him. She’d be cool, calm, collected and entirely unavailable. Perhaps she’d have some mysterious other commitments that meant she couldn’t see him again.
He’d derailed her for a while, with his strangeness and his passion—but she was back on track now. This whole thing with Jackson had been just a blip, just a minor diversion. She would find someone open and honest and normal – and boring, she added, before she could suppress the thought.
Her eyes closed and she drifted off, picturing her house in the suburbs. She fell half-asleep and began to dream. But in her perfect house there was something scary—something dangerous. She knew it was there but she couldn’t see it. She ran from room to room, but she couldn’t escape. It was coming for her. She knew with a certainty that it was going to catch her and knock her down and do unspeakable things to her.
A wolf appeared and stared at her with its big yellow eyes. Then Jackson was there too. He wrestled the wolf—fighting it—chasing it away. She was safe.
She hugged Jackson. But he led her away from the house, saying, “This isn’t yours. You can’t stay here. You have to come to the hunting lodge with me.”
She looked back at the beautiful home, with its expensive fittings and beautiful furniture. “Stay here with me,” she urged Jackson.
“No, we have to go. We don’t belong here.”
She woke up suddenly, unsure where she was.
The air steward was patting her shoulder. “Fasten your seatbelt, ma’am, we’re coming into land.”
Chapter Eleven
Justine couldn’t shake her mood all weekend. Everything felt wrong and out of place. Even her apartment had felt strange when she opened the front door.
It was a mess – surely she hadn’t been in that much of a hurry when she packed up to leave for her trip away? But she must have been.
Her bedroom looked the worst. Her bed was unmade, the sheets in a tangled heap. The drawers were all open and her clothes were untidy, some hanging out. There was a dirty mug and plate on the floor. Had she really left it like this? But it was hard to think clearly—it seemed like ages since she’d left. Even though it was only three days—so much had happened.
She sniffed the air. There was a faint odd smell too. Perhaps she’d left some food or something somewhere.
But she couldn’t face cleaning up her apartment right now. It would have to wait. She was too angry—at Jackson and at herself. She’d done the one thing she’d vowed never to do again—get involved with a client. And she’d been dumped—again. He’d had what he wanted—a night of passion—and then he’d left her high and dry. Would she never learn?
She lay on the sofa, half-watching a chat show on the television. She’d taken the Friday off work. She just couldn’t face the office yet. And now it was Saturday and she was still in her pajamas. The television was boring her, but she couldn’t be bothered to find the remote to change channels. She’d made herself a coffee but even that didn’t taste right.
She had been so certain that she and Jackson should be together. How could she have got it so wrong—again? She sighed miserably. At least it wasn’t as bad as when she broke with Alistair. That had been awful. She tried not to think about it. But when she was in this mood, she couldn’t stop the memories flooding back.
She’d been at a big gala dinner event, with Peter, her Head of Department. His wife couldn’t come—she was pregnant and suffering with it—so he’d asked Justine to be his plus one. Everyone was in black tie and slinky dresses. And of course Alistair had been there.
She and Alistair never went out to big events together, so it had been a thrill to see him. She k
new he was watching her across the room. She flashed a glance and a smile his way. Then he joined their group. They chatted about business. Justine knew she couldn’t let her boss—or anyone else—know that she and Alistair were in a relationship, that they were in love. The big announcement would have to wait just a little while longer. Alistair’s hand grazed hers.
After the dinner, Alistair was obviously feeling less cautious and he’d pushed her into having a little fun with him. He’d gestured at her across the room to follow him. He went out a door at the back. Two minutes later she followed him.
Off the empty hallway were more doors. He was waiting for her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a small room full of brooms and brushes and cleaning materials. Alistair hustled her in and closed the door behind them.
He immediately took Justine’s hand and rubbed it over the front of his trousers. “You see what you do to me? Just looking at you across the room makes me hard. I want you so much. You’re driving me crazy.”
She’d laughed, flattered that she could have that effect on him.
“I can’t carry on like this,” he muttered. He pulled her close to him and kissed her. His fingers climbed her thighs. “I’ve got to have you before I explode.”
He touched her between her legs.
“I want to make you come—but first suck me off.”
She sank to her knees obligingly, and too out his erect dick. She’d blown him so many times now. It was always his favorite thing.
“Oh that’s good, really good,” he was muttering, his hands on her shoulders.
She glanced up at him, just able to pick out his face in the darkness of the room.
She sucked harder, taking more of him in her mouth.
“Yes – oh my god that’s good—take it all—deep as you can,” Alistair said and pushed himself further into her mouth.
“Well, well, well.” Light flooded the room and Justine was looking up into the face of a very angry woman.
She froze with horror.
“My darling husband has persuaded some little tart to blow him in the broom cupboard.”
She let Alistair’s rapidly deflating cock slip from her mouth and clambered to her feet.
