Obsessed

by Deborah Bladon

  Your fanboy

  I run into my bedroom to find the perfect outfit for tonight. My heart is pounding as I consider all the possibilities this night can offer me and the obviously interested Jax.

  Chapter 6

  We drive through Central Park in silence. The driver focused on the road, while I'm focused on what's waiting for me at Jax's apartment. I'm clutching the bottle of Shiraz so tightly my knuckles are turning white. I giggle to myself, realizing that I haven't felt this anxious about seeing a man since I first met Mark.

  The driver makes a few quick turns and now we're on Amsterdam heading uptown. He manipulates the dark sedan around a couple in the crosswalk and brings the car to a stop on Eighty Ninth Street. Without a word, he comes around to open my door.

  "Thank you." I smile at him.

  He only nods in return and points to the charming townhouse we're parked in front of.

  I turn to see Jax standing near the open front door. He's dressed in tailored gray slacks, and a dark blue shirt. His strong features are so much more vibrant in the soft evening light.

  I walk up the steps while carefully holding closed the skirt of my navy wrap around dress. I've paired that with the nude four inch heels I found at the back of my closet. Once I reach the top step I realize that even with the added height my shoes afford me, Jax still towers over me.

  "You're look beautiful, Ivy," he whispers into my ear as he gently embraces me. "Thank you for coming."

  "Thank you for the invitation." I kiss him softly on his cheek.

  He pulls back and takes my hand, leading me into the building. "I'm on the second floor."

  I nod, even though his back is still turned to me. I follow him up the stairs, the entire time breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne.

  "This is me." He motions to an open apartment door and I step through into a space filled with the aroma of spice and vanilla. The lights are low and there are several small candles burning. The sound of jazz music wafts through the air. The decor is clearly all male. A dark leather couch sits next to an oak coffee table, magazines strewn everywhere.

  "I told you I admire your work." He nods towards the table where several Veray jewelry boxes sit.

  I smile faintly. "Yes, I can see that you do."

  "Are you hungry?" He walks towards the kitchen.

  I walk into the living room, still clutching the bottle of wine I've brought with me. I immediately notice several photographs displayed on a shelf. One is of two small boys. "Is this you and Brighton?" I call in the direction of the kitchen.

  Jax appears around the corner. He moves next to me. "That's us."

  "How old were you here?" I stare at the photo noticing the younger boy is missing a few teeth.

  "I'm six I think. Brighton would have been ten then." His voice becomes more expressive, "I always looked up to him. He picked on me constantly until I was taller than him."

  I chuckle. "When did that happen? When you were eight?"

  "Witty, are we?" His index finger lightly brushes against my nose.

  "I am," I counter. "I haven't figured out if you are yet."

  That brings up a laugh. "I'll take that," he says as he reaches for the wine. He disappears into the kitchen again as I sit on the couch.

  "You bought a lot of my pieces," I say under my breath as I pick up one of the crimson plush Veray jewelry boxes. I open it and see a necklace I designed more than a year ago. I silently close it and grab another from the pile. This one contains a bracelet I remember working on with Mark. With shaking hands I reach to place the box back on the table.

  "That's one of my favorites." Jax hands me a glass of wine as he settles in next to me on the couch.

  "Mine too." I smile faintly taking a small sip of the fragrant, red liquid.

  "I was out of line when I asked about Mark."

  I look up and into his eyes. "You were curious."

  "I was." He nods slightly. "I still am. You two were engaged, weren't you? I read it online."

  I take a second, heartier drink from my glass. "We were for a time, yes."

  "He was a fool to end it." Jax raises the glass to his lips, taking a healthy swallow.

  I do the same, realizing the wine is helping calm my reservations about talking about Mark. "I ended it, actually."

  "Would it be out of line to ask why?"

  "It would. But seeing how you were so generous to give me that...um...shall we say, interesting piece of artwork, I think I can oblige with an answer."

  He laughs. "I heard from my brother that you found it breathtaking." He emphasizes the last word, while holding his chest, mirroring my response to Brighton at the gallery.

  "You are..." I let my voice trail as I lean closer to Jax. "Almost as witty as me."

  "Almost?"

  "We can work on that." I run my finger along his strong chin. "I'll teach you things and you can teach me." I'm shocked by my shameless desire for this man.

  He moves back slightly, raising the glass to his mouth. He empties it in one gulp. "You have no idea how much I want that."

  "You can show me how much..." I whisper, my lips almost touching his. "After you feed me."

  He smiles and stands, offering me his hand.

  I reach for it and allow him to help me off the couch. Holding my hand he leads the way to a small, simply decorated dining table.

  "Ivy." He stops and turns to me. "Tell me why. Why you ended things with Mark."

  Sensing that he'll press the subject until I share, I sigh. "He travels a lot for his work and he was easily distracted."

  "I understand." I feel his lips gently brush my forehead.

  ***

  "Dinner was delicious. Thank you." I take the linen napkin from my lap and place it next to the plate. The remnants of the seafood pasta Jax prepared still tempting me.

  "It was my pleasure." He reaches the short distance across the table to cover my hand with his. "Can I get you anything else? A coffee? Maybe some tea? Scotch?"

  I smile at his willingness to please me. "Another glass of wine would be perfect."

  "Of course." He reaches for the bottle and half-fills both our glasses. "Let's go back to the living room. It's much more comfortable."

  I pick up my glass and follow Jax. I stop along the way to admire a small painting on the wall.

  "That's one of Brighton's earliest works." He's standing next to me now, his voice soft.

  "I'm surprised. It's so different than what he's doing now."

  "He's so different now than he was then." There's an unmistakable edge of displeasure to his voice.

  I sigh. "Success can change people."

  He studies my face for a moment. "It does. I know you understand."

  I turn to walk back towards the living room. I sit in the same spot I was earlier. He settles in closer to me than he was before. He reaches for my wine glass, placing it next to his on the coffee table before picking up a jewelry box and opening it.

  "Your work is really brilliant." He pulls one of the soft pink crystal earrings from the box. "When did you decide to start designing jewelry?"

  I take it from him and place it back in the box. "Before I do that, can you tell me why you find my jewelry so interesting?" I raise my eyebrow mischievously as I continue, "I'm used to women buying my stuff. I don't think men buy it. I mean, I just get checks from Veray but I think it's mostly women…or maybe I've just always guessed it is." I stop as I realize I'm rambling.

  He hesitates before answering. "I was dating a woman a few months ago and she was wearing one of your bracelets. It was stunning. I asked her about it, and she mentioned Veray so I went to check it out."

  "I see." I feel a pit in my stomach at the mention of him dating another woman. What's wrong with me? We just met and judging by his behavior in the powder room last night, he's likely dated a lot of women, or at the very least slept with them. "So you rushed out and bought all of these to give to that woman?" I cringe at my own words before picking up my glass and br
inging it my lips.

  "No, I never saw her again after that night," he admits.

  I try to hold in a smile while swallowing the wine. "That's too bad." I place the glass back down on the table, moving my hand to rest on his thigh.

  "I just think they're beautiful." He inches his entire body closer to mine on the couch. "Much like the woman who created them."

  "That's very flattering."

  "You do all the work yourself?" He cradles the earring I'm wearing between his fingers. "It's all so intricate. Where's your studio? I'd love to stop by sometime and see you in action."

  I pull in a deep breath, savouring the intermittent brush of his fingers against my ear. "I work alone at home. I don't have a studio."

  "No studio?" His voice is a low whisper as I feel his breath rush against my neck. "That's a shame."

  "I'd love to have a dedicated space to work in. One with more natural light. Ideally, I'd find a different apartment that was more suited for me to work and live in. Not that my place now isn't great. It is. I mean, it's not great but it's okay. It's enough for now." I'm digressing partly because the smell of his cologne is intense and alluring and partly because I'm so nervous. My experience with men is restricted to Mark. That's it. Having any other man this close to me is unchartered territory for my hormones and I'm worried that my incessant talking is making that ever apparent. I pull in a deep breath willing myself to calm down and embrace the experience. When would I ever get to be this close to a man like this again?

  "I think your talent is less about the space you're in and more about you," he whispers, his index finger gently moving my hair away from my neck.

  I can feel him sigh deeply as I move even closer to him, raising my hand up his thigh. I look down to see his obvious growing erection straining against his slacks. I take in the scent of his skin which combined with the wine is making me feel lightheaded.

  "Do you have a favorite piece?" My lips are close to his cheek now.

  "I loved the necklace you were wearing the other night at the gallery," he says under his breath.

  "Tell me what you like about it."

  "The shape of it was exquisite."

  "What else did you like about it?"

  "That it was touching you." He shifts to the side, his hand grasping my waist to pull my body close to his.

  "You couldn't take your eyes off of it."

  "No. I couldn't take my eyes off of you." His mouth finds my neck. He leaves a line of small kisses, his tongue playfully tempting my sensitive skin.

  He pushes his lips into mine and I soak in the taste of them. I sense the subtle pressure of his tongue on my lips forcing me to open my mouth more. His kiss becomes more aggressive as my lips follow his lead. His teeth pull at my bottom lip sending a tender feeling of pain through my mouth.

  As a moan escapes his body, I pull back from the kiss. I trace my open lips down his cheek to his jaw line, running my teeth along it. I move towards his neck, biting softly along the path.

  "I kept thinking about you…about the scent of your skin, the curve of your neck." His words are rushed as his lips find mine again. His breath labored and wanton.

  "I thought about you too," I whisper. "I can't stop."

  He cradles my face in his hands, pulling me into him. "I won't stop."

  A small moan runs through my body.

  Deftly he pulls me onto his lap so I'm facing him. My lips rest against his cheek. I slowly run my tongue over the bristle of evening stubble, tasting the salt in his skin.

  His hands find my thighs. I'm certain he can feel my arousal as I subtly push my now damp panties into his lap. His hands inch upwards. My breath catches.

  "When I saw you at the gallery..." He reaches for the sash holding my dress closed. "I wanted to take you home with me right there."

  I nod. My voice stuck in my throat. I watch him pull on the sash, my dress falling open revealing the white lace bra and matching panties I'd chosen for the evening.

  "You're so much more beautiful than I ever imagined." His hands push the dress from my shoulders, leaving me exposed and open. "I've thought about this moment for so long."

  I catch his gaze and smile gently. "You've thought about me?"

  "You have no idea." He runs his finger down my neck. I jump slightly at the intimacy of his touch. "Tell me?"

  "Your skin is so soft." He grabs my hand with his, gliding my fingers over the flesh at the top of my right breast. "Feel it?"

  "Yes." I slide myself across his erection, pressing my body into his.

  He smiles. "That's what you do to me."

  He guides my hand down my breast, tracing my finger over my swollen nipple as it pushes against the fabric of the lace.

  He presses his lips to mine. "You want me too, don't you?"

  I moan as I feel his tongue once again claim mine.

  He continues our joint exploration with my fingers, running them over the soft curves of my stomach until they're shyly grazing the top of my panties.

  "Let's see how badly you want me." He pushes my fingers below the lace.

  I'm instantly greeted with the warm wetness of my arousal.

  "Touch yourself for me, Ivy," he whispers into my ear.

  I feel for my clit. I gasp the moment my finger brushes against it. I'm so aroused already.

  "Think about all the things I'm going to do to you." His warm breath runs over my neck. I quickly find my rhythm. I rock my hips slightly on his lap while my index finger circles my swollen clitoris.

  I lock eyes with him, my lips parted, my breathing quickening as I rush to find release.

  "I'm going to own your pleasure. Nothing will feel as exquisite to you as coming under my direction, under my touch, under my tongue."

  "Please."

  "Please what?" His hands inch up my thighs pulling my desire to the surface. "Please make you feel things that no man has made you feel before?"

  "Yes," I barely whisper the word. "Yes. I want that."

  "You want to come."

  "Yes, now." I whimper, knowing that I'm close to the edge.

  "Not now. Not yet." His voice is low and melodic as he gently pulls my hand from my panties.

  I stare, mesmerized as he runs my moist fingers along his lips. A low growl escapes his body.

  "I need to be inside you." His hands both move to his shirt, making quick work of the buttons.

  I reach for his belt, my fingers struggle to unfasten it as I tremble from within.

  "Sweetheart," he says hoarsely.

  Time stops. I freeze. Images of Mark pour into my mind.

  "Sweetheart?" His large hands cover mine now. "Don't stop."

  I look into his eyes, willing him to understand, knowing that I can't form the words to tell him to stop calling me that without my emotions spilling over.

  I see a flash of frustration covered by disappointment in his face. He pushes me to my feet and stands. Breathing heavily he runs his hand through his hair. He reaches for his wine glass, swallowing the contents in a single gulp. "Fuck," he whispers under his breath.

  He barely glances at me, before pushing past me to walk towards the kitchen. "You're not ready. You should have told me it was too soon."

  "No. You're wrong. It's not that way. It's not too soon. It was just that..." I'm a step behind him, my emotions quickly rising to the surface.

  "You're too fragile." He takes a long drink directly from the wine bottle before turning to face me. "I knew by the way you reacted yesterday when I mentioned Mark's name. I saw it again today. I shouldn't have pushed. I don't know what I was thinking."

  "You're wrong." I feel the sting of tears. "I'm ready. Please let me explain."

  He walks back to the coffee table and picks up my dress and my clutch. "You have no idea how badly I want this. How badly I want you. How long I've waited for you, but not yet. Not like this. Get dressed."

  I tear my things from his grasp my eyes settling on his undone belt. I've never felt more embarrassed.

/>   "I'm taking you home. I'll call for the car. Wait right here." His voice is stern and commanding.

  I watch him leave the room before I bolt for the door, my hand over my mouth silencing the sobs.

  Chapter 7

  "I was so humiliated." I sigh as I continue, "I froze when he called me sweetheart."

  Liz drops the fork holding the crisp piece of romaine lettuce destined for her mouth. "He did what?"

  "I started to undo his belt. He said it and I stopped."

  She motions for me to continue.

  "He got up off the couch, pushed me aside and walked away." I swallow hard, hating the sound of the words.

  "What did he say when you told him Mark used to call you that?"

  "I didn't. He wouldn't let me get a word in. He just assumed I wasn’t ready yet."

  "So you just left?" Liz quizzes.

  "As fast as I could. I put my dress back on in the hallway and ran to find a taxi."

  "Maybe you overreacted a bit, sugar. I mean, it's been months since Mark called you that."

  I shake my head from side-to-side. "Days, not months."

  "Days?" Her voice is quickly becoming the loudest in the near capacity diner. "What do you mean days?"

  "When he came to get the letter, he was all sweetheart this and sweetheart that." I roll my eyes.

  "How dare he still call you that? He can't call you that. It's just...it's so wrong."

  I nod silently.

  "So it's been three days and you've heard nothing from Jax?"

  "Not a word."

  "I'm sorry."

  "What about Brighton?" I ask wanting to shift focus. "What's going on with you two?"

  She shrugs her shoulders. "Nothing. He said he'll make a decision on the final spot in the next week."

  "You'll get it, Liz." I pull a French fry through the ketchup on my plate before popping it into my mouth. "You've got to be the most talented candidate he's seen."

  Liz pushes the remaining salad on her plate around with the fork. "I hope you're right."

  I glance at my phone. "I need to go."

  "Where to?"

  . "I've been summoned to Julia's office for a meeting. I'm sure it's about the deadline for my new bridal pieces." I groan.