Ginger rose felling more relaxed. She almost cracked a smile, feeling good about her emotional purge and allowing her the moment with her father. She reached for a sip of her drink and the crisp fresh bit of fall went down so easy, emptying half of her glass.
She had shaved earlier in the day, so she was hesitant to use the scrub on her legs, but she decided to gently use it to exfoliate her upper body. She rubbed the abrasive mixture in long sweeping motions up and down her arms. She let the remaining salt skim across her chest. Her hands were covered in oil, although most of the salt had washed away into the bathwater she rubbed what remained with the pads of her fingers in a circular pattern around each one of her breasts.
She continued to massage them until she felt the erect tips tickling at the palms of her hands. She palmed the fullness of one breast while she let her other hand sink down her belly until she found her way to the tingling bud between her legs. She grabbed at her now throbbing mound, the tips of her fingers covering her soft outer folds.
Images of Redford climbing out of his rental car started to play out at she let her eyes flutter shut. Instead of him walking to greet her at the pizza place she pictured him walking toward her now in the dark.
Still with the palm of her hand flush against her freshly shaven skin, Ginger let her fingers slide between the folds of her skin increasing the pressure with a subtle circular motions, not quite rubbing.
A short raspy breath escaped as she arched her back from the chills she was starting to give herself. The anticipation of not knowing how Redford would touch her, she let her fingers explore her yielding flesh. Imagining his fingers caressing her body. Even in the water she felt the slippery natural lubrication she was able to produce with the simplest graze against her most sensitive spots.
She pulled her hand up and ran it over her belly and back down her inner thigh teasing at her senses. She wanted more and she was going to give it to herself.
She stroked at the dark areola of her left breast and watched as the center hardened into a tight little bud resting just above the surface of the water. The candlelight created a soft yellow glow that made it difficult for her to look into the water to see her hand.
She tipped her head back and flicked at the tip of her already hard nipple as she let her right hand find its way back and slid it up and down between her inner most folds. Every time her fingers came up toward her belly she stopped and rubbed the small swollen nub a few times before allowing them to slide back and forth a few more times between the folds each time letting the tips of her fingers enter a little bit more.
Ginger's back began to arch as her pace started to quicken. She slid her left hand down to take over the rubbing while her right hand began thrusting one, then two, fingers until she felt herself open enough for a third finger.
Her breath quickened, she heard shallow guttural moans coming from her throat. She hadn't even realized she was doing it, she was too focused on the waves of pleasure that she was inflicting on herself...
Ding Dong...
Ding Dong...
Ginger was just about to take herself to a pleasure paradise and the doorbell started to ring off the hook. She grunted and grabbed a towel.
Chapter Fifteen
GINGER HEARD THE COMPUTER BLEEPING off the hook now in unison with the ringing of the bell and the knocking at the door. She certainly wasn't expecting anyone, she didn't order anything, and she was pretty sure that anyone who would be looking for her father would know he had passed.
She had a towel wrapped around her body. The strip of fabric was barely wide enough to cover both her full breasts and her round behind. She made a note to herself she should invest in larger body towels.
She got out of the hot bath so fast that she had to pause and brace herself against the wall to stop herself from falling. She felt like she was going to black out. She had never passed out before; she didn't want this to be her first time either.
It only took her a second to regain her composure, but the ringing and bleeping were relentless. The clear sound of a fist pounding on the other side of the door was a bit unsettling.
She got to the door and realized and or remembered that she didn't have a peephole. That would be something that she would need to rectify. Either having someone come and install one or order a new door that has one.
"Who is it?" she called through the solid wood door that separated her from someone who clearly either had no manners or was very inpatient.
"It's Jack. Is Art home?" a man's voice answered. His voice was little bit muffled.
Shit! Ginger thought. What was she going to do now? There was a part of her that was dying to see what the deal was with this guy, but seriously what was she supposed to say to him? Her curiosity got the best of her.
She opened the door before she remembered that she wasn't dressed. She looked down at her skimpy towel and held it tight with her free hand as she peeked her head around the slightly adjacent door.
"Can I help... you...? Ginger's voice trailed off when she realized that it was not Jack standing on her welcome doormat. It was however one of the last people she would have expected to be standing there.
"Ginger?"
"Redford?"
They spoke in unison. Questioning each other's presence.
"What are you doing here? And why did you say your name is Jack?" Ginger still did not open the door; she was hiding her body behind the heavy slab of wood. How did he know where she lived?
"How do you know Arthur, this is Arthur Thorn's home is it not?" He stood there with a six-pack and a giant bag of roasted peanuts.
His hair was less slicked back than it was when she met him earlier that morning. He was no longer in a suit, but a Pearl Jam concert tee and a pair of cargo shorts and some very beachy looking flip-flops. A big contrast to the crisp professional garments he adorned during the day.
"Yes, Arthur is my father, was my father. He, um wait how do you know him and why did you call yourself Jack?" Ginger was still confused and not sure she should trust him. He seemed like a great guy at dinner, but this was a bit of a creepy coincidence.
"Oh my first name is Jackson and my last name is Redford. I just grew up playing football and everyone always called me Redford, it kind of stuck. But my family and some of my friends do call me Jack."
He shifted the beer under his arm. And he smoothed back his silver mane. It was so healthy and shiny, she could see herself running her fingers through it. Ginger couldn't help but notice the twinkle in his eyes from her porch light.
"This is crazy. I didn't know if I would even see you again. Is your father home?" he asked with a confused look on his face.
"No, maybe you should come in for a minute. I think I have some things I need to explain," Ginger said slowly gliding the door so not to lose her towel.
She looked down and saw that the rounds of her breast were pinched together by the tightly drawn terrycloth. She had a world of cleavage going on. She was about to pull it up over the soft mounds, but she realized that she could already feel enough of a draft on her bottom that if she had pulled it up, her cheeks would be peeking out of the bottom half of the towel.
"You have to excuse me, I was taking a bath when the door bell started to ring, and then the computer. I didn't have time to get dressed." Ginger felt his eyes on her body, she liked it, she wanted him to have a taste of what she had to offer him. But she also knew that she needed to get dressed. "Let me go grab my bathrobe."
His eyes flashed from her breasts back to her eyes. "Take your time. Do you mind if I pop these in the fridge so they don't get warm?"
"Go ahead. I will be right back." Ginger dashed down the hall. She could probably just as easily put on a pair of sweatpants, but she just grabbed her pink satin robe off the back of her bedroom door. She didn't want to leave Redford or Jack, now she wasn't really sure what to call him, alone.
She had been avoiding telling this man, who was apparently her father's friend, that he had passed aw
ay. She guessed it was a good thing that she had already met him and knew enough about him to feel comfortable having him in her home. This was all her fault. And now she had to pay the price for her avoidance.
"You might want to crack one of those beers," Ginger said just as he was closing the door. "You can also help yourself to one of the pumpkin beers if you want."
"Oh really, ok. Do you want me to get you one?" he asked and then tilted his head, "Are you ok?"
"I guess so, why, because of the call from my ex earlier? I'm trying not to think about that. I put an email out to my attorney when I got home so that is that." Ginger watched as this gorgeous man, who was but a mystery the day before, reached into her refrigerator to serve her a beverage. "And yes, please I will take whatever you are having."
Ginger did not have an eat-in kitchen and the small dining area off the kitchen just had a desk with her dad's computer on it. That was the next space that she was going to make her own. She looked around and figured that she would ask him to sit on the couch.
The silence was almost thick enough to cut with a knife. The crisp sound of Redford opening the beer bottles was loud enough to shatter the space between them.
"If you need a glass they are in the cabinet next to the microwave." Ginger felt like she was bossing him around, when she should be offering her guest a drink not the other way around.
Without thinking, she went to reach around him to open the cabinet. He was spinning back to do the same. She felt the bulge of his bicep as it slid against the smooth, barely there fabric that covered her bare breasts. She felt the already stimulated tips harden to his actual touch and not the fantasy of it.
He spilled a little bit of the beer on the floor from the impact of bumping into her. He looked down at the spill, but not before she noticed his eyes take a pause at her round breasts.
She looked down at herself and realized that the silky fabric contoured her every curve, exposing her sudden arousal. Maybe he thought she was just cold.
"I'm so sorry," he said.
"No, it's my fault, I'm sorry. Did it get on you? "She grabbed a paper towel and bent down to wipe up the spill. She noticed that his feet were as perfectly groomed as his hands and she was impressed. She couldn't help but wonder if he kept the rest of his body so well kept.
"It's been a long day," she said as she stood up. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to heat up that pizza? I know you didn't eat much."
"I'm ok right now thank you. You said you wanted to tell me something?" he asked as he handed her a bottle of beer. "Maybe we skip the glasses, one less thing that needs cleaning."
"I will drink to that." Ginger took the bottle and gently tapped the neck against his bottle before taking a small sip. "Sorry I don't have a table here, we can sit on the couch."
"Ok, but are you sure you're ok? You look like you have been crying," he said following her the few short steps to the living room. When he got to the living room and looked at the two couches and back at Ginger to see where she wanted him to sit.
"Me, no I wasn't crying." She waved to the couches that were angled so that they both faced the coffee table in the center of the room. "Sit, anywhere."
"Oh thanks." He put his beer down on one of the many cardboard coasters stacked in haphazard piles on the coffee table. "It's just that you have a little-" He raised his hand in the direction of her face. The pad of his thumb grazed over Ginger's high cheekbone.
It was like his eyes were invisibly stitched to hers. The transparent threads keeping her eyes looking up into his. In the brief moment that passed along with his thumb across her face, she felt an indescribable sensation transpire between them. She almost felt like she just woke up from a spell to see something that had always been there.
Ginger lifted her hand to the spot on her face just below her eyes where he had just touched her. She wiped in an outer sweeping motion and looked down at her finger, her eye makeup.
She was more concerned with covering her nearly naked body that it never occurred to her that she had been not only a sweaty mess, be it a clean sweaty mess, she had been crying, harder than she wanted to admit. She hadn't had a chance to wash her face or finish her bath.
"Oh my goodness, my makeup. I guess I should go wipe my face." Ginger was about to turn on her heel when Redford grabbed her hand and tenderly coaxed her back from her departure.
"Don't. You are fine. You look just as beautiful as you did the first time I laid eyes on you. You just look sad." Ginger looked down at her hand cradled in his. He released his hold on her. "It's really not that bad."
He sat at the far end of the sofa. That left the love seat or enough room to share the sofa without making things too close for comfort. She could also, of course, have chosen to sit alone on the love seat.
"Well," she sat down next to him, "truth be told I was crying. And no, not about earlier. I know you are somehow friends with my dad."
He shook his head. "Your dad told you about me?"
"No, not so much. This isn't easy for me. The last few times that you actually messaged him this past week, that was me on the other end." He looked at her over the body of his beer bottle. "I'm sorry, you messaged my dad and I was sitting there eating and accidentally dropped food on the keyboard and well, one thing led to another."
"So you really actually spilled food on the keyboard. And it was you I was trading preseason stats with?" He leaned in letting his arm rest on his knee. "On one hand that is really cool, on the other hand, really weird. Why would you pretend to be your father?"
"Because he isn't here anymore." She started to feel the lump in her throat returning. She tried to force it down with a sip of beer, but the carbonation only made it worse.
"Where is he?"
She looked up at him. He was suddenly blurry. Looking at him through pools of tears she was trying not to shed, she wished she could find better words to explain to him.
"He passed Redford, Jack." She started to laugh, not because anything was actually funny, it was just her body looking for an outlet for her emotions. "I don't even know what to call you now."
He scooted over on the couch closer to her until his leg touched hers. "You can call me whatever you want; Jack, Red, Redford, Jackson... They all work for me."
"Jack," it seemed more personal to call him Jack and that was how her father knew him so it made sense for her to address him that way, "he passed on almost three months ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want to have to get into it, especially with someone that I didn't know. It wasn't my intention to lie, it just happened."
She couldn't fight it off any longer she felt the hot beads rolling down her now cool skin. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers together at the bridge of her nose. She tried to use her middle finger and her thumb to wipe away both the tears and her runny mascara.
He rested his hand on her back. It was the only invitation that she needed. Other than Jasinda hugging her a few days earlier, she had been longing for someone to hold her.
He opened his arms wide and let her into his embrace. He rubbed over the back of her head and whispered into her ear, "I am so sorry for you loss. He was a really great guy. I didn't know. If I had..." his voice trailed off.
Ginger sank into him. His strong body gave way, allowing her to find a spot that felt like it was made for her. The tighter he held her, the more she found herself melting into him.
Thoughts came to her mind, words, but no clear thoughts. Should she say something, should she stop holding on to him? If he was done hugging her wouldn't he let her go? Why wasn't he letting go?
He smelled like a fresh ocean wave. His cologne had a youthful sweetness to it, but a sexy finish that teased at the back of her nose making her take longer inhalations. How could she be both devastatingly sad and turned on by this man's very essence all at the same time.
Enjoying his intoxicating scent actually helped her to calm her breathing and her nerves. Now she was at a point of not knowing how to let go.
"I'm sorry," Ginger whispered into his now damp tee. "It's just that I haven't..."
"Shh, you don't have to..." His words brushed against her wild red hair. She must have been a sight for sore eyes. "Let it out if you need to. I'm not going anywhere and I understand how hard it is to lose someone that you are close to."
Ginger lifted her head to look up at him. He pushed the loose strands of hair from her face.
"I can stay as long as you need a friend or if you want to be alone I can go. I don't want to intrude."
"You don't have to go. It would actually be nice if you stayed. It will take my mind off of things." Ginger tucked her feet up under her. Her arms were still half tucked behind him and around his firm chest. "I can heat up some food for us. I think I might be getting my appetite back."
"How about you go wash your face with some cold water, it will make you feel better. I can heat the food up, if you don't mind me in your kitchen," Jack offered. He gave her a quick squeeze before releasing his grip on her. "You ok?"
"Yeah, I actually am." Ginger sat up and grabbed her bottle of beer and got up. "I'll be right back."
Chapter Sixteen
GINGER TOOK HER DRINK AND scurried back to the bathroom. When she got in there, she realized that all her candles were still burning and the bathtub was still full of water. She leaned over the tub and pulled the stopper.
She decided against looking at herself in the mirror. She left the lights off and splashed her face with some cold water and grabbed a make-up removal clothe from the package on the counter. She knew that it would take away any makeup that remained on her face. She wanted to put on fresh make up and fix her hair, but he had already seen her at her worst. It was what it was.
She took advantage of the glugging noise of the water draining from the tub to at least brush her hair and tie it back on top of her head. She reached in one of the vanity drawers and applied some Vaseline to her lips. It would at least give them a nice sheen without any color or scent.
Jack and Ginger (Sacred Heart Coven Book 3) Page 11
