by Gina Watson
“The daughter, Clara, you like her.”
His lips tightened at her expert analysis. What could he say that wouldn’t implicate them both?
She leaned forward, and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. His spine stiffened. “Don’t worry hot guy, I won’t say a word.” She pinched her fingers together and ran them from one corner of her mouth to the other. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“How do you feel now?”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you done vomiting? Because if you’re not you need to sleep on your side. You’ve got a trashcan right here. Don’t lie on your back.”
“Yes doctor.” She giggled and it was a sickeningly sweet sound, high pitched and excessive. Not breathy and perfect like Clara’s giggle. God, he couldn’t wait to get to her. “Do you have something you can put on?”
“I sleep nude.”
“Fine. But you may get sick all over yourself.”
“Maybe I can wear your shirt.” She pulled at his shirt, exposing his stomach before he could pull it back down.
“I don’t think so.”
“My, my, that sister is a lucky lady.” She raked her nails over his clothed abdomen.
He stood. “Make sure you stay on your side.” He hated to leave her sick as she was, but he wasn’t about to play nursemaid to her all night and miss out on Bug’s precious promise of wine and cheese and her sweet body.
He left the room and headed straight for Clara’s. He twisted the handle ever so slowly to avoid making a sound. Inside he found her sprawled on the bed looking sexier than he thought possible in the white cotton sleeveless gown she wore. On her nightstand the wine was open and about half empty. Had she drunk it?
His hand slid up her thigh, connecting with her hip. “Clara.”
“Mmm, Cracker Jack. I’ve been waiting much too long for you.”
“I agree.” He took off his shoes and socks, and climbed up on the bed next to her.
Pulling her across his lap he bent and kissed her lips confirming that she did in fact drink the wine. “Bug, you drank the wine.”
“Mmm, I did.” Her eyes were closed, but she had a ridiculous smile on her lips.
“But you’re—” Her finger pushed into his lips.
“Spare me Jackson. I waited for you for three hours. I didn’t think you were coming. Where were you?”
“I had to tend to Lexi. She got roaring drunk and puked up her guts.”
“Why can’t she find her own boyfriend?”
He kissed behind her ear. “Did you eat my cheese too?”
She giggled in delight, the sound so precious to his ears he could cry. “No, I just drank your wine.”
She stood on her knees and bent over the edge of the bed, hanging upside down. When she was once again upright she had a knife and cheese board, along with the brick of cheese.
“Talk to me about this cheese.”
While she cut into it she rattled off the information. “I told you it’s aged one year. It’s named after the town in Spain—La Mancha. If it reads Manchego, you know it’s the real deal.” She swept her arm across the space in front of her. “The region is located on a vast plateau high above sea level. The sheep endure arid conditions with excessive wind and heat. The winters are quite cold and the summers quite hot so the best cheese is produced between August and December when the sheep are happy and fat.” She placed her arms in a large circle over her puffed up belly and laughed.
He was mesmerized as he watched her relate the information. “I—love—you.”
She smiled and poured wine into a glass she no doubt pilfered from the kitchen. She passed the glass to him and placed a piece of cheese in his mouth.
“What do you taste?”
“Mmm, nutty and reminiscent of caramel with a tangy acidic bite.”
Her eyes lit up as she took a bite. “Now sip the wine.”
“It’s very complex isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Quite intense. I think it’s your favorite. You always moan when you eat it.”
“I do not moan.”
“I hate to break it to you, but yeah, you do.”
He finished the cheese she’d cut. “I want more.” He also wanted to watch the little show she gave that she wasn’t aware of as she bent over the bed.
She went down to the end of the bed again and started to lean over when his hand landed on the back of her thigh and then he bit into the fleshy part of her butt.
She squealed with delight. “Shh. You’re gonna get me shot by a firing squad.” He drank from the glass in his hand and then flipped her over, kissing her deeply. Dipping his fingers into the glass, he painted her lips with the drops of wine dangling from his fingers. Her pink tongue slid along the slickened surface.
He lay alongside her and played in her beautiful natural waves with his fingers. “You need a bang trim.”
“I like to keep them long.”
“I don’t like it when I can’t see your eyes.”
She crawled on top of him, straddling him and removed her nightgown. He forgot what they were talking about. She wore a white lace thong and nothing else. “I need you.” She pulled at his belt and he assisted.
“Can you keep it quiet?”
“I’m quiet.”
“Not when you’re on top.”
She smiled shyly and placed the tip of her index finger in her mouth. “I’ll be quiet.” She slid out of her lace underwear and was completely nude as she set to work on his clothes. First she pulled his shirt off and then raked her fingers down his chest and torso. Her tongue traced over his abdominal muscles as she sighed sweetly. This is what he’d been wanting. He needed her sweetness and her light to save him from the bitter darkness. As she slid his pants and underwear off, he aided her efforts by raising his hips. She started rubbing her wetness over his engorged cock. Her tongue circled his nipples and it felt better than anything else he’d known in his twenty-eight years. Except when she put her mouth on his cock. Everything good started and ended with her. If he were to ever lose her he wouldn’t survive it.
His hands went to her hips and caressed, helping her slide back and forth until he panted her name. She sat up and gathered his arms, placing them above his head and then traced with a light touch down the underside of his arm to the hair in his armpit. “You stay put now or I’ll stop.” She smiled her shy smile with deep dimples and hooded eyes.
“I need you.” His voice was a strained whisper.
“I know what you need.” She leaned forward and nibbled on his lips and then slid down to his knees. She bent and grasped his cock in her grip. Her tongue darted out and she tasted the glistening top. She continued to lick her essence from him.
“Do you like how you taste?”
She nodded, but kept sucking him harder and deeper into her mouth.
“I like how you taste too.”
She slid a finger through her wetness and reached up to place the finger between his lips, not aware how sexy she was. The moves she made left him breathless as he licked and sucked her finger clean. “More.” This time she sat up and watched as she thrust her finger in and out of his mouth and he lapped it free of her juices.
Slowly she took him into her warm tight center until he was fully consumed by her. Her movements were rhythmic and hypnotizing. He liked this position because to maintain pace they had to communicate. Not with words, but with their eyes and she never took her powder blues from his gaze. He watched her hips and abs dance as the shadows in the room played off of their movement. She leaned back, placing her hands on his thighs, and then rode him hard, raising her hips high and slamming back down, her breasts springing up and down. He bit his lip to keep from screaming and he detected the metallic taste of blood in his saliva. Her pace grew less and less steady until she was gasping for breath and collapsed on top of him. He grabbed her hips and continued the motion that brought them to climax together.
As they came down together he gathered her long wavy dark hair and p
ulled it over her shoulder to allow air to breeze over her sweaty neck. He placed his lips on a drop that was sliding down the column of her throat. “You’re an amazing woman. I’m in awe of you.” He felt her smile against his neck.
“Don’t leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She closed her eyes and then he did the same.
In a dream someone whispered harshly in his ear. “Mmm, Bug.”
“No, it’s Lexi.”
He jumped up from the bed, realizing too late he was naked.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” He and Clara asked in unison.
“Well good morning to you too.” She overtly stared at his morning hard on. A pillow came sailing through the air to hit him in the crotch. Given his erection it hurt, but he held it there to cover himself. He looked over at a guilty Clara.
Lexi whispered, “Thought you might want to know the big guy is up and he’s looking for you.” She pointed to Jackson.
Lexi pulled him along through the bathroom that connected her room to Clara’s. Looking back over her shoulder she addressed Clara, “Gather his clothes and throw them into my room.” Clara threw his clothes into Lexi’s room. He picked up his boxer shorts and put them on faster than he ever had in his life. As soon as Clara shut one door it was as if a pulley system opened the main door.
Lexi was on her knees on the bed, pulling his head to her bosom. “Mmm, Jackson do you have to leave so soon?”
Clay’s deep baritone laugh could be heard around the room as it bounced off the walls.
He closed the door leaving Jackson and Lexi staring awkwardly at one another.
She bit into her bottom lip while he finished getting dressed. She cleared her throat, “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night and to thank you for being so kind and patient with me.”
“Don’t mention it. And thank you for not ratting me out.”
“She’s a lucky girl. For what it’s worth, I can tell you two are the real deal. Have you considered telling her family?”
He shrugged, “It’s complicated.”
“Still, your love for her is honest and pure. You shouldn’t have to lie about it.”
He moved to walk from the room. “Thanks again.”
What she’d said ate at his gut. Their love, even though pure, was surrounded by a web of deceit.
Chapter 8
Since Jackson needed to wash his uniforms and Clara needed to study, they’d decided to leave the estate on Sunday evening.
“I want to tell Clay about us.” Jackson said.
“I know.”
“No, I mean next weekend, when we go to New Orleans. I want to tell him then.”
“But it’ll ruin everything.”
“Clara.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “We’ve told so many lies about our relationship I’ve lost track. And why should we be telling lies when our love for one another is absolute truth? We’re lying to your family.”
He heard a sniffle and looked over to her side of the car, but couldn’t see her eyes because her bangs had grown out too long. “Clara, look at me.” She turned and he pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Baby, why are you crying?”
“Because I don’t want our love to be cradled in a lie, but I don’t want my family to be mad at us.”
“They might be mad at first, but when they see how much we love each other that will negate their anger.” He tangled her hand in his. “It’s you and me together. We can do this. Okay?”
She nodded her assent. “Okay.”
A few minutes more down the road had him turning the car into the mall. It was five-thirty. If they hurried she could get her bangs trimmed.
“What are we doing here?”
“You need a haircut.”
“No I don’t. I like for my bangs to reach my eyes.”
“Well I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“I’ll buy you a hot pretzel.”
She shook her head and kept her eyes forward.
“I’m not going to argue with you—”
“Then drop it and let’s get out of here.”
He sighed and put the car in reverse. They drove to their apartment in silence.
By the end of the night they were all in love again and he spooned her as she fell asleep in his arms. He knew she liked to hide behind her hair, but she needed to learn not to do that.
After he awoke the next morning he started the coffee pot. Then he got an idea. It was a horrible idea, but he thought it too good not to employ. While the coffee brewed he walked around the apartment gathering scissors, a comb, and a piece of cardboard. In the bedroom he found Clara sound asleep on her side. It was too perfect. He lightly combed her bangs, placing the cardboard underneath. He wouldn’t want her to wake suddenly and risk stabbing her with the scissors. Once he had the hair lined up he took the scissors in his grip. Holding his breath, he made the first cut. Then he followed the line across the length of her forehead. She had a ton of thick hair and he had to make several cuts. He pulled back to look at his work. He couldn’t tell if they’d be slightly crooked or if it was just the way her body was positioned in the bed.
He gathered up the cut hair from the bed as best he could without disturbing her. Lucky for his nuts she was a sound sleeper. Boy was she going to be hot when she woke to discover what he’d done. He went to the kitchen, disposed of the evidence, and set about his morning ritual of pouring them each a cup of coffee.
He held the smoking coffee cup under her nose and she slowly came around. When her eyes opened and pinned him in place he smiled. There she is. His girl with the powder-blue eyes. He needed to see them in all of their glory. They grounded him to the earth.
“Good morning, Bug.” She sat up and he was able to confirm that the haircut was a little crooked, but he thought it was cute.
“What are you smiling so much about?” She patted the sides of her hair down into place. “I must look crazy.”
“You’re perfect.” He kissed her nose and then went to take a shower.
≈
Clara woke slowly and opened the chest of drawers to put together an outfit for the day. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror she thought something seemed off. No wonder Jackson had been laughing at her. She even started laughing at her image until she realized she’d been sabotaged.
“Jackson Reid Olivier!” She smoothed her palms against her bangs over and over, but it was no use. Her bangs would not lay straight and were as misshapen as a crookneck squash. “I’m just going to kill you!”
She stormed into the bathroom where she found him drying off. “Look what you’ve done to my hair.”
“What?”
“Don’t play innocent—you know what you’ve done.”
He kissed the top of her head as she pushed him away. “I think it’s very original. Come spring everyone will have that cut. Call it the Bug cut.”
“Jackson, the only one who thinks this is funny is you.”
He frowned. “That’s not really a fair assessment, you’ve only got a sample size of two people.”
She started rummaging through the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink, exasperated and whispering under her breath. She finally found what she was looking for and plugged it in. She slid the switch to on and the gadget produced a deep satisfying buzz in her hands. “Get in here now!”
From the door he watched nervously as she held the electric clippers in her grip. She pointed to the toilet seat. “Sit.”
“Now I think you should just calm down. You really are overreacting a bit, don’t you think?”
“You scalped my head while I was asleep!”
“It sounds bad, but I only did what I did out of love for you. You’re doing this”—he pointed to the clippers in her hand—“out of revenge.”
“It’s only fair and it’s the only way I will forgive you for what you’ve done.”
His lips tightened. “Fine, just don�
��t make my tail too poufy.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the image his words conjured up.
“I can’t believe you did this to me and then you didn’t even say you were sorry.”
“I’m not sorry. I need to see your bright eyes because they save me from penetrating darkness.”
His words gutted her. With his admission she knew she wouldn’t be able to shave a hair on his head. Still, there was no harm in him thinking she would, even if only for a few seconds. She scrunched the hair on top of his head together into a Mohawk pattern.
“I still have to treat patients you know.”
“And I have to attend work and school with this.” She pointed to her forehead.
She turned on the clippers and held his hair in her hands. “Ready?”
“Do your worst.”
She ran the blunt end across the top of his head and released her hand. She deliberately made her eyes large as she looked at him. He jumped up and looked in the mirror, running his fingers through his thick sandy hair. His laughter was explosive and bigger than she’d ever heard before.
Once he composed himself he reached for her and pulled her into his chest. “Bug.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry I got them crooked. Can you forgive me?”
“Forgiven. I’ll go by and get them evened up. It’ll be a funny story to tell Shelly while she cuts my hair.”
He placed his hands on her jaw, kissing her lips. “Can I meet you for lunch today at the restaurant?”
“I’d love that. What time?”
“One.”
“You want chicken piccata? It’s the special today.”
“My favorite.”
“Everything’s your favorite.” She smiled. “I’ll have it ready for you at one.”
He squeezed her tight. “I more than love you.”
“And I love you more than you love me.” She ran her fingers through her bangs.
He crossed his hands over his heart. “That hurts.”
≈
At work she stocked the case with various Italian cheeses and made up cards for each one. She’d found some clips situated on a stand at the local dollar store that would be perfect for displaying the cards she’d printed.
