My smile is shy when I finally speak. “So … dinner?” Dinner? That’s my fabulous response? My cheeks flare red—I’m so embarrassed. He makes me so self-conscious. The confidence he exudes is hard to keep up with.
Thankfully, he smiles and nods. “Yes, let’s eat and talk.”
Jackson places his hand on the small of my back and I grab my drink before making our way over to the hostess. Once we’re seated, I basically down my martini and order another one. My palms are sweating and I can’t stop fidgeting.
The restaurant is beautiful. It’s done in rich blues and greens, which reminds me of Jackson’s eyes. There’s a large oyster bar on the right wall and the entire back wall is windows overlooking the ocean. Our table is situated with a perfect view of the water. I look around, smiling at the opulence of the scenery and clientele.
Jackson clears his throat as a handsome man walks toward us with a smile on his face. “Carter!” He stands. “How are you? It’s been a long time,” he says as they hug and clap each other on the back.
Carter glances down at me and back over at Jackson. “Yes, brother, it has been. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Jackson smiles and shifts his weight. “No problem. This is Catherine. She’s the new publicist working with me on the cosmetics company.”
“Oh, well, I thought maybe you were finally getting back out there.” Carter places his hand on his shoulder and Jackson’s eyes narrow as he subtly shakes his head.
Hmmm … that’s weird. Back out there? And what’s with the head shake? My stomach plummets as fear grips my heart. A hundred scenarios race through my mind.
“I should get back to my dinner.” Jackson’s tone is flat, lacking the buoyancy it held moments before. “It was good seeing you. I’ll call next time I’m in town.”
“You know Mad—”
“See you, Carter,” Jackson cuts in.
“Right. See you, brother. Don’t be a stranger.” He pats his back and Jackson returns to his seat.
He won’t look my way. Gone is the warm and sensual man from a few minutes ago. I can feel the tension coming off him in waves. I want to say something but—well, I don’t really know what the hell any of this is. I’m not his girlfriend or even his friend, really. I’m his publicist. He made that crystal clear. I’m such a fool. I knew it was a mistake to get all dressed up and think there could be anything more to this. Taking his cue, I straighten my back and decide to rebuild my wall.
The waitress comes over and takes our orders, and Jackson starts talking about the business. An hour and three martinis later, dinner is done. I want to go to bed. I’m upset and exhausted. I kept myself in check. I didn’t get all gooey—I did good. It’s not as if he was being charming anyway. We created a plan on where he wants to see things go. He asked a lot of questions regarding the market and buying behaviors, but we steered clear of anything other than the end goal and how he wants to handle the launch. I gave him my best suggestions on how we get there, but the entire dinner Jackson barely spoke other than to ask pointed business questions.
Resting my hand on the table and fiddling with the martini glass, I’m lost in my disappointment. Jackson blows out a deep breath and leans forward then back again. Looking into his eyes, I can see the turmoil churning. After a few seconds, he leans forward again and places his hand over mine.
Glancing at our joined hands, I pull mine out of his grasp and place it on my lap, refusing to look at him. I’m hurt and angry. Two times he’s kissed me and two times he’s rejected me. The last time was different but the pain is the same.
His deep voice breaks through my ruminating. “Catherine, don’t pull away.”
“I’m not.” I say sharply. I didn’t pull away—he did. And so what if I did? He’s not anything more than a client and I don’t have to get personal with him.
He narrows his eyes and places his hand on the table palm up. “Yes. You are. We need to talk about this. Please give me your hand.”
I look down at his hand, open and waiting for me. All I want to do is place my hand in his, to feel his skin against mine. Yet I don’t want to. I close my eyes and shake my head.
“Please. I want to explain.”
I lift my eyes and see nothing but sincerity. His hand is just lying on the table, waiting, and I’m paralyzed. I remember my rule and promise—I won’t allow any man to hurt me again, not that I can prevent it entirely. I place my hand on the table next to his, sending my own message. “Explain, then.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see Carter. He was like a brother to me. There’s a lot of history and bad blood between us, to say the least.” He inches his hand closer to mine. “I wasn’t sure what to say and didn’t want you to be in the middle of it.” I’m torn. I understand being surprised, but why wait until now to say anything? He places his hand on top of mine and his voice is apologetic. “I want us to figure out whatever this is between us. Can you forgive me for being an asshole?”
In all the years I was with Neil, I don’t think he ever apologized. I’ve been around Jackson for two days and he’s not hesitated once. There’s something now, though, about how cold he grew that has me on edge. His hand glides up and down the back of mine, but it’s his eyes that break through my trepidation. “I forgive you for being an ass. So let’s talk.” I sigh and he grips my hand.
“I can’t and I won’t lie to you. I feel something for you. I have since the first day we met.” His eyes blaze as he gazes at me. “I think about you all the time. I want to kiss you every time I look at you. Every time I try to focus at work, somehow I’m distracted thinking of you. I can’t explain it but I think you feel it too.”
I look away, trying to gather my thoughts and express them in a way that doesn’t make me feel stupid. How can I explain it to him when I can barely describe it myself? “I don’t know how to fully put it into words.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve been hurt. When we met, obviously, I was wearing a ring.” His finger rubs across my naked ring finger. I look up and he has a small smile, but his eyes are urging me to keep going. “Anyway, he … well, he wrecked me. To say things ended badly would be putting it mildly. But honestly, you’re my client, Jackson. You could ruin everything I’ve worked for. I’m not willing to throw my career away.” I hesitate before saying more. There’s no way I’m ready to tell him what’s in my heart. I already know where this is going. I’m on a one-way trip to more heartache. Every single man in my life has chosen someone or something else over me. Jackson will be no different.
“I wouldn’t ruin anything for you. I’m saying there’s something between us. Can you honestly tell me you feel nothing?”
Nothing? No, I definitely can’t say that. His blue-green eyes pierce through me. I’m searching, trying to read any emotion telling me I should turn him away. He smiles expectantly and I sigh. “No. But I don’t trust myself with you. It’s so intense sometimes and if I get caught up … ” I trail off, afraid to finish my sentence.
He flips my palm over and traces the inside of my hand, sending tingles through my body. “Look, I’m saying let’s take it slow. Have some fun. No matter what, I wouldn’t jeopardize your career.”
“So, what? We date? I don’t know what you’re looking for. I don’t want another serious relationship right now. I can’t …” Emotion chokes me. I’m not sure why all of a sudden I’m struggling. I guess I just don’t want another Neil. I’m not strong enough to deal with it.
“Yes, we date. We’ll be spending a lot of time together anyway. So either we keep fighting this … pull or whatever this is …” he trails off and runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. Being around you, seeing you, listening to you laugh, just makes me want you that much more.”
I want what he’s offering so much, but the other part of me is fighting it. “And what if this ends badly? How do we work together day in and day out?” It’s a valid question, and it’s really the last flimsy excuse I can voice to him.
He pl
aces his palm flat against mine and smiles tentatively. “We’re both professionals. I already told you I wouldn’t hurt your career.” He chuckles.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I’ve never had to work so hard to get a woman to date me. I always thought I was a pretty good catch.” He lets out a short laugh again.
“I guess it further proves I don’t find you charming or endearing.” I smile at my line of bullshit. He’s absolutely charming, so much so that I’m fighting the urge to crawl across the table and into his lap.
Jackson stands and strides to my side of the table with his hand extended. “Dance with me.”
His strong hand engulfs my tiny one as he helps me stand. It’s symbolic of how I feel when I’m around him—consumed. We walk to the middle of the small dance floor. Jackson places his hand on my hip and his warmth penetrates my dress. Slowly he lifts my palm and places it on his chest, right over his heart. I can feel its steady beating, the constant thrum as it calms my own. I close my eyes and sink into him as I listen to the singer croon about coming away with her for a while. If only I could get away for a while, ignore all the painful turns my life has taken. He leads us through the song as I replay the last few weeks. Somehow, Jackson has taken my life by storm. He’s found a way to make me feel alive, as if a light switch has been turned on, illuminating all my dark corners. He sharpens my senses and fills me with so many different things—excitement, fear, humor, anger. It terrifies me.
The song ends and I look into his kind, warm eyes. He leans in purposefully and gives me a tender kiss.
I smile and a soft giggle comes out.
“What?” Jackson asks.
“Oh, nothing.” I shrug. “Just rethinking—maybe you are charming.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet.”
I bet I haven’t.
We finish dinner and head through the lobby, and over to the elevator. As we wait, I consider my options. Do I invite him in? I mean, we aren’t a couple. We’re agreeing to stop flirting around the fact that we have some serious sexual tension. I don’t know if I’m ready to sleep with him, but if he kisses like that, I can only imagine what he fucks like. I’m not even going to let myself go there. I don’t really have time to make a pros and cons list, but I’m pretty sure the pros would win. I’m also quite sure that I could make anything into a pro at this point. Regardless, there are cons and the biggest one is how badly this could end for me. Sure, he doesn’t want to ruin my career, but how do I know I can trust him? Look how great my track record has been. No, there’s no way I’m going to sleep with him. We decided to take things slow. I need to pace myself with him or I’m going to get burned.
When the elevator door closes, all the feelings I was questioning are amplified by a thousand. I peek at Jackson who appears to have the same thoughts brewing. Our eyes lock and for a moment neither one of us moves. Then, all at once, we reach for each other, colliding in a haze of lust. I couldn’t give a shit about being burned—right now, I’d gladly turn to ash. Hands, teeth, lips are everywhere. Jackson has me pinned against the wall as his mouth greedily devours mine. There’s no finesse, no tenderness—this is primal, raw, two people desperate for each other. This kiss is weeks of flirting, toying, and resisting the urge to rip each other’s clothes off. His hands roam my body, groping, grasping, squeezing. I’m panting and moaning—I need more.
“Catherine …” He sighs heavily against my neck as I claw at his back.
“Please,” I beg. “Don’t stop.”
I hardly get the words out and his mouth is ravishing mine. Jesus Christ! Who am I? I no longer have the ability to form rational thoughts. All I am is desire, want, lust, and I can’t stop. I barely hear the ding of the elevator, but I’m definitely aware of Jackson’s absence.
I’m panting, staring incredulously at him as he leans on the wall opposite me. An older gentleman enters the elevator and looks at both of us with a knowing smile, clearly aware of what we were doing. Now I understand why he moved. My lips are swollen, and I can only imagine what my hair looks like after having Jackson’s hands tangled in it. I fix my dress and try to regain some semblance of composure. I swear I’ve completely lost control. The girl who wasn’t going to do this? Yeah, she’s gone. We’re like two teenagers going at it in an elevator—well, interrupted in an elevator, but I enjoyed every second of it.
The door opens with a ding, and Jackson grabs my hand and pulls me out of the elevator. His fingers intertwine with mine as we walk through the hall toward our rooms. He lifts our hands, kissing the back of mine. The feel of his calloused fingers brushing against me increases my need to have them everywhere. When we arrive at my door, the nerves coursing through me smother the yearning I was struggling to control. The fear of being hurt and vulnerable all over again is almost crippling.
Jackson speaks first. “Look at me.” He places his hand under my chin and lifts my head. “I want nothing more than to take you to bed, but I’m not going to push you.” There’s so much honesty in his words.
I nod, unsure of what I want. The woman who wore the corset wants him to come inside. However, my sensible and responsible side says I’m being crazy and I should take things slow. There is an angel and a devil on each shoulder and I’m not sure which one I should listen to. I’m not even sure there’s a choice.
He leans down and the instant his full lips press against mine, the sparks ignite into a raging fire that consumes every fiber of my being. I’m burning and I need him to extinguish the flames. His tongue explores my mouth and all I can taste is Jackson. Strong hands roam my body and pull me close, making me feel like I’m being branded. Fuck being sensible!
Somehow we manage to open the door while our mouths are fused together. Jackson’s tongue swirls with mine as we stumble through the room. My legs hit the edge of the bed, halting our movement. His deep voice drips with sex. “Turn around.”
Breathless, I obey his command. He lifts my hair and brushes it to the side, placing hot kisses against my neck. The anticipation buzzes from my head to my toes and back up to my stomach. Oh God, I want him so bad. Shifting my weight as the fire burns in my core, desperate to relieve the aching, I whimper as he pulls my zipper down agonizingly slow. Other than my erratic breathing and the teeth of my dress coming apart, there’s no sound in the room. In a husky whisper I beg, “Jackson, please …”
“Please what, baby?”
My dress pools on the floor and a long moan escapes my lips as he trails his tongue across my shoulders. The heat of his tongue in contrast to the cool room is wreaking havoc on my body. He turns me around and his breath hitches. With hungry eyes, he devours my body as I stand before him in my corset and heels. He steps forward and groans. “You are so fucking beautiful.” His mouth slams against my swollen lips and he pushes me on the bed.
I claw at his clothes, needing to feel his skin against mine. He rips his shirt off and my fingers press against his abs. Jackson hisses as my nails graze his chest, feeling every inch of his perfectly toned body. At the same time, he grabs my ankle and his hands roam up my legs, pushing my need for release to a throbbing ache. “Jackson …” I moan, trying to control the sensations his touch is educing.
“What do you want, Catherine? You’re going to have to tell me.”
“You—I want you.” I groan as his hands make their way higher.
“Oh baby, you’re going to have me.” He leans down against my ear and slowly traces the outside shell with his tongue. “I’m going to watch you come. Over and over.” I nearly shatter from his promise alone. His voice is low and primal, assuring all of what’s to come.
His hands slide down my body and unhook each tiny eye of my corset. With every pop, my chest tightens instead of finding relief. Finally, the last hook is free and the material falls to the side, leaving me exposed before him. Jackson leans down as I grab for his neck, pulling him toward me and devouring his mouth. He breaks the kiss and moves down my neck and chest, licking and kissing, until h
e reaches my breasts. The swirl of his tongue across my nipple makes it hard. He pulls it in his mouth, sucking, while his hand pulls and teases my other breast. My eyes roll back and I moan in ecstasy. “Oh God …”
Jackson groans and moves a hand to my panties. Moving them to the side, his fingers open my pussy. “Mmmm. So fucking wet for me.” He moves to my stomach and then pulls the tiny black thong down so that I’m completely naked except for my gold heels. The hunger in his eyes knocks me off center—I’ve never felt as sexy as I do right now. I need him. I want him so bad it hurts.
I lean in and grab his belt, needing to feel him. I manage to get his pants off, but he grabs my wrists before I can pull his boxers off too. I look up and he smiles softly. “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that. Lie down.” I comply. “I need to taste you. Right. Fucking. Now.”
He leans in and places slow kisses from my knee up to my thigh. As his mouth moves higher, I start to tremble. I close my eyes and fist the sheets as his tongue swipes at my center. It feels so incredible. He continues to lick and suck at the bundle of nerves and then stops. Then he starts again, bringing me closer and closer before suddenly stopping again. I’m almost to the point of tears. I need to release so bad it’s becoming physically painful. I moan and beg, “Jackson! Please, I’m so close.”
Jackson licks and sucks my clit, bringing me higher, almost to the breaking point. He inserts a finger, slowly curling it around, while he presses harder with his tongue. I detonate and my back bows off the bed as I repeat his name over and over, losing myself to the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. Holy fuck!
I open my eyes as he crawls over me. “So fucking sexy. I’m going to enjoy watching you do that again.”
I sit up and press him down against the bed, straddling him. He lets out a groan while grabbing the back of my neck. His tongue swirls with mine, allowing me to taste myself mixed with Jackson. I moan, breaking the kiss as my lips travel down his body. I lick and kiss every ridge from his neck to his stomach. I pull his boxers off, setting his impressive erection free. There is nothing small about him—anywhere. I glance up as I lick his cock from root to tip and grip my hand around him, stroking him.
Beloved (The Belonging Series) Page 14
