by V. F. Mason
Not like that. He could stalk me or not give me a divorce, but he would never kiss or touch me unless he saw desire in my eyes. Drake was too proud to question a woman’s attraction to him.
“I won’t.” He looked into my eyes as though he needed confirmation that what I said was true. “I want to explore this, give us a chance.”
“What changed your mind?” Nothing escaped him, did it?
“The girls opened my mind on a lot of things, mainly the ones I didn't want to see.” He frowned but said nothing, expecting me to continue. “Can we clean up and then talk in bed? I think I smell bad.” The joke felt flat, and he didn't look convinced.
Speaking of which, I was reminded the wetness inside me was not created only from my desire, but that he came inside me without a condom.
“We didn't use protection.” Saying it sounded dumb, because it was obvious.
“I know,” was his only reply, and it made me angry.
“You didn't ask me.”
He grabbed my neck and pulled my face forward, making our noses touch. His eyes held traces of fury. “I knew you were on the pill and I get tested regularly, not that I was with anyone after you anyway. I didn't want anything between us, and truthfully, I was so far gone it didn't cross my mind to use condoms, because I knew we were safe. I never would have endangered you like that. I’ve never done this bareback with anyone but you,” he finished and leaned back, waiting for my reaction.
So I blurted out the one thing that was on my mind. “Is it better without?”
His mouth lifted in a wicked smile. “You have no idea. It was like fucking fireworks on the Fourth of July. But then any time with you is the best I’ve had.” His words made me blush and all warm inside.
I, plain Jane, made this amazingly handsome man experience one of the best orgasms of his life.
His beautiful words made me giddy.
“I wanna kiss you, but I really want to clean up.”
He laughed loudly, picked me up, and took us to the small bathroom.
God, but I loved the sound of his laughter.
Drake
“Now talk.”
Jane pouted her lips. “Aren’t you going to feed me first?”
“No.”
“That’s really rude.”
“You’re not hungry.”
“How do you know that?”
“You never eat anything before going to bed. Trust me, I had enough time to notice that.”
She laughed and jabbed her finger into my chest. “Yes, but usually I don’t have sex marathons every night. I’ve discovered sex makes me starved.” She wiggled her eyebrows, lay down with a loud smack on the pillows, and laughed again.
It was as if some kind of switch had flipped inside her. She smiled all the time, and was so open in her feelings and affection that it scared me.
I wasn't used to this kind of Jane. She could flip to the old Jane again, and I wasn't sure my dick or I could take any more rejection from her.
“I can make some sandwiches real quick. Let’s go to the kitchen.” The trailer was big, or rather the bus was, and had several rooms and a kitchen. Ryan kept a lot of food inside. Since both of us knew how to cook, it was easier than constantly ordering takeout.
Her eyes grew huge, and she sat up abruptly. My shirt, which she'd put on after we showered together, rose up a bit and gave me a great view of her legs and ass.
“I can’t do that! Ryan and Bella will be there. They can’t see me like this!” she shrieked.
I frowned. “Like what?” Did she want to keep this whole thing a secret? So help me, God, if she did after all this time, I would go—
“Like I just made love. They would tease me, and the girls would have a fit about it. Plus, it’s embarrassing that they probably heard everything we did.” She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I mean it’s not like our relationship is a secret, or that I’m spending the night with you, but I just don't want anyone to actually have a glimpse into that,” she finished with a frown.
It was impossible not to laugh at her crazy outburst. She wasn't amused, and threw a pillow at me, which I caught a second before it hit my face.
“That’s not funny. I moaned so loud,” she said angrily, and didn't those words put a smirk back on my face.
“Yes, you did. Makes a man proud, beautiful.” She threw another pillow, which hit me in the chest, but she had a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that she tried to hide. “And don’t worry. Ryan and Bella didn't sleep here. I asked Ryan to give us some privacy. I think they got a hotel room.”
“You did that? When?”
“After the scene at the bar,” I replied, and she blushed. “I knew I wanted to talk with you, so my request wasn't that hard for them to refuse.”
She raised her brows. “Sure of yourself, are you, Mr. Jackson?” Her voice was amused, and all traces of uneasiness were gone.
“Just hopeful, Mrs. Jackson.” We stood there for a moment, each of us looking at the other and enjoying this. We never had that, the light banter that didn't bring anything heavy. A light bickering between couples I saw other people do.
She was the first to snap out of it. She stood up, came closer, and gave me a soft peck on the mouth.
“Feed me, husband mine.”
The pleasure those words brought me was indescribable. I grabbed her hand, and we moved to the kitchen. She sat on a stool while I opened the fridge to check what I could quickly make for my girl. “What do you want? Something heavy like pasta, or more on the lighter side like chicken Caesar salad?” I had ingredients to make both.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Both?” she asked shyly, as she put her hands under her chin and gave me those puppy eyes that Sparky loved to use.
Speaking of which, I glanced by the door and saw the puppy was sleeping soundly on the rug, without a care in the world. He was weird that way, a bundle of energy by day, but once he was out after his nightly walk, he was really out.
“I’ll cook both then.” Jane caught me looking at Sparky, and her brown eyes became warmer if it was possible. “He is out. It’s always funny to watch how sometimes when I can’t sleep I try some new tunes, and he doesn't even twitch.”
“Yeah, I don’t think anything can wake him up, even the smell of good food.” I took out everything I needed and got started cooking for my girl. “Do you want white or red wine?”
She thought for a minute, finally pointed at the semi-sweet wine, and I opened it. I poured some into a glass, put it in front of her, and went back to chopping chicken and putting pasta in the boiling water.
She tasted it, closed her eyes in pleasure, and licked her lips. It pleased me that I could satisfy all my woman’s appetites. Our sex was amazing, but I wanted us to have more.
I hoped I would finally have the chance to give it to her.
“It’s really good.”
“Ryan has only the best collection.” My brother was obsessed with all the good things, and although I was the one who grew up with our rich and powerful dad, I somehow didn't share their desire for all those things.
“That’s true.” She watched my hands move and chop vegetables, and then she asked guiltily, “Do you need any help?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
I let go of the knife I was holding, leaned over the counter, took her chin in my fingers, and gave her a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of wine and her. What man needed more? “The only thing you are supposed to do is relax, Jane. I have this. Yeah?”
She was silent for a second then raised her hand, caressed my cheek, and smiled. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
For the next half hour, I prepared food for us, while we quietly talked about the tour and the girls. Once the food was ready, I fixed a plate for her, put it in front of her, and occupied the chair beside her. Jane took her fork, winked at me, and raised it to her mouth. She took the first bite, moaning in pleasure.
“I swear it’s the best damn p
asta I’ve ever eaten.”
“Flattered.” Her words made me chuckle, but the food was good. At least for a guy. She nudged my shoulder painfully.
“You know it’s good.” She tried the salad and had the same reaction. I was happy to see her eat. She almost never paid attention to food and it drove me crazy.
Thankfully, it was no longer the case.
“So how does a guy like you know how to cook?”
“A guy like me?”
“You know, born with a silver spoon in your mouth.” She didn't sound judgmental, just curious.
“I always liked cooking, and believe it or not, I loved watching those cooking shows and imagining myself becoming a chef someday.”
She blinked, and then laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Really?” she asked when she got control of herself.
“Yeah, I was driving my dad crazy, because he saw me as some kind of heir, and there I was wearing an apron and playing with a spatula.”
Her eyes darkened and she leaned closer. “Is it bad that I like the idea of you with all this?” Her voice was breathy, and fuck, just like that, I was getting hard again.
“Someday, we will fulfill your fantasy.”
She blushed, but then moved her lips to my ear.
“What’s yours?” she whispered, and then bit my earlobe and quickly licked it to take away the sting.
“Pretty much everything that includes you sexually.” That was the truth, especially for the last two years, when I had nothing except imagining her in various positions.
“Good,” she said, leaned back, and resumed her eating.
That just made me shake my head. Women, really.
“So after that you started cooking?”
“Not until college. Then it sort of became a thing I liked to do. Nothing special really. Don’t expect me to make you any cakes or muffins,” I warned, and she squealed in mock outrage.
“You mean no dessert goodies from you?”
“Nope.”
“You can always learn.”
“No.” My voice was firm. No way in fuck was I baking cakes and all that other stuff.
“It’s not negotiable?”
“It is not.” She sighed heavily and that made me suspicious. “How would you negotiate?”
“Well, I was thinking that for every cake you make, I could fulfill one fantasy of yours. You know…anything you want.”
Fuck.
Those words put lots of images in my head that were making my dick uncomfortable behind the zipper of my jeans.
“Anything?” I wanted to clarify.
She nodded and looked at me under her lashes. “Anything.” Mischief sparkled in her eyes; the little thing was playing with me, and she damn enjoyed it.
Wasn't she in for a surprise?
“What kind of cake do you want?”
Her fork stopped midway to her mouth. She sent me a sideways glance, and panic was in her eyes, along with excitement.
“Baumkuchen.” She chose one of the hardest desserts to make. It had a lot of layers, and each layer was made over a revolving spit in front of an open flame. Each tier has to brown before the next could be added. This cake took hours to make, and usually required experience in baking. Not to mention that it was very difficult to construct.
How the fuck was I supposed to make it?
However, Jane and anything in bed…
“Okay. So I will make you a cake, and then you will do anything in bed, right?”
She raised her chin, clearly not liking being backed in the corner, but nodded. “Deal.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
We both knew I would never push her to do anything she didn't want to, but I enjoyed seeing her nervousness over it.
“Do I need to think about a safe word now?” she asked sassily, and her words made me grab the table with my hand and squeeze it hard.
I was never into the whole Dom thing in the bedroom. The sex wasn't that great even before Jane. It was just a form of release, and I was out of the bedroom the minute it was done. But the idea of having her blindfolded on the bed, spread for me, and giving me the freedom to do whatever I wanted?
Now that made me painfully hard.
“When I get the cake, you will let me know. Right now, just think about it.”
She blushed, but there was heat and desire in her eyes too. She wanted to try it or she wouldn't have brought it up.
I pushed my plate aside and noticed she was done too. I stood and picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist and smiled. “Are we done?”
“In the kitchen, yes. You have to tell me what changed your mind now.” We walked into the room, and I sat on the bed against the headboard with her on my lap.
She took a deep breath and began talking. “You know how I sort of had a crush on Jeremy, right?” Her voice was careful, as though she knew it was my least favorite subject.
“Yes.” My tone wasn't really giving away anything.
“I always knew he had a thing for Sam, and I guess I was sort of okay with it and created a fantasy that he was unavailable. And I mean he was. I’m not saying I didn't really have some kind of crush on him, but the truth is he probably was appealing because he didn't want me.”
She finished and then looked at me, but I said nothing. I thought as much myself. She didn’t want to create attachments; she wanted to be in a safe place where no one could hurt her.
“But you probably already know that, being a shrink yourself, huh?”
“Kind of. I didn't think you didn't love him, just that he was a safer choice because he couldn't really hurt you. Not like that at least.” There should be honesty between us, so I saw no point in lying.
“Anyway, the girls pointed out that I had the chance to create something with you, but I didn’t use it, because you were available.” She must have understood how that sounded, because she quickly added, “In the sense that you are free, and I can have whatever relationship I want with you.”
“I get it.” My hands gently ran over her back, and I asked the lingering question, “Does this mean you are willing to give us a chance?”
She knew I loved her, but her feelings weren't there and it was okay. I could wait as long as we had a chance at this and she would stop fighting me every step of the way. She nodded and pressed her forehead against mine.
“Thank you for waiting for me. I want to give this a shot. I have no idea where it will lead, but…I know I’ve never felt like this toward anyone. Even Jeremy. I never wanted him like I want you. Just you,” she whispered and then raised her eyes to me, and it was impossible not to share a kiss with her.
The kiss was gentle, soft, and tender, but at the same time hot. Her tongue played with mine, and I let her lead. She was so warm in my arms, and I never wanted the moment to end.
She was giving me all I needed, and whether she knew it or not, her words healed some of the wounds she had inflicted on me.
I pushed her onto her back and proceeded to make love to my woman for the rest of the night.
At last, I had her back in my arms and in my bed, and no power in the world could have taken her away from me at that moment.
Jane
“Does this mean Drake Jackson was sort of part of the band all those years, since he was married to the drummer of the group?” the reporter asked, her notepad in her hand and her expression sharp. She didn't want to miss anything, since it was her chance to ask questions.
“That’s right. We always knew about their marriage and supported them in their desire to keep it private.” Jeremy’s voice was steady and friendly, nothing giving away the tension he had from last night.
The morning had been amazing, because I spent it with Drake after our night together. He made me breakfast while I took Sparky for a walk. We got ready for the press conference and met everyone in the hallway ten minutes before the start. The girls were giving me grins, but we didn't have much time to talk, so they told me we need
ed to meet for coffee after we finished.
At last, people had the chance to get the scoop on the latest news on us. About thirty journalists, including TV reporters, were there. All the media attention made me wonder why people cared so much what celebrities did.
But I loved my fans, our fans, and I wanted them to have the story from us, even though it was one big lie.
At least, the biggest part was a lie, not the part that said the marriage was real.
Last night, it became real for me. I was looking forward to exploring my relationship with Drake.
Jeremy handled the questions for the most part. He was afraid Drake and I would put him in deeper shit, but reporters grew tired of Jer’s answers, and the next one, a guy who looked to be my age, directed his question at me.
“Jane, what was it like to hide the relationship from everyone?” Well this one was easy, thank God.
“It was difficult and uncomfortable, but Drake and I wanted our privacy.”
“Was it because you weren't sure how long the marriage would last? You got married in Vegas, after all.” He smirked, and that made me instantly not like this guy. I respected journalists; they did an amazing job in the world. But I couldn't stand those who tried to twist the facts or make something more scandalous than it actually was.
Before I could reply to his remark, Drake’s low voice said, “There was nothing of the sort. Are you saying that people who get married in Vegas don’t believe their marriage will last?” Even if it were true statistically, no way would a reporter admit to that. People did a lot of stupid things in life, but no one would call a Vegas marriage doomed. Many people would be offended and it might cost him his job.
“That wasn’t what I meant. I’m trying to understand why she would want to keep it quiet,” he quickly said, and then added, “After all, she is now part of the Jackson family, isn't she?”
His words made me freeze, because I had never thought about it. Bella and Ryan were together, and she was about to meet his parents. Would I need to do the same thing?
“She always was. She didn't become my wife just now,” Drake pointed out.
