by Annie Dyer
"I'd like you to. I have a busy week – I'm going to be in Manchester for at least two nights from Tuesday – so I'd like to make the most of tonight," he was sincere and honest, two qualities that were as attractive as his biceps and coffee-colored eyes.
"Okay. Do you have Netflix?"
"Isn't it illegal not to?"
I smiled. "Shall we head off then? It's been a really good afternoon. I like your family a lot."
"But you could do with some quiet time now? They're a lot to get used to. Wait until Dad's retirement. How many does the venue cater to?"
"Four hundred. I've seen the guest list already. Hello, Magazine will probably want an invite." It was true, the guest list was the who's who of London business with a couple of titled gentry in there too.
"We'll talk in the week about it but not today. I know it's family, but that event is definitely under the work category. As is the case against Richard regarding your company and the apartment. Leave that to me and Seph. I heard you talking to Claire about it," he moved a lock of hair out of the way and I stood up, leaning into him. We'd given up all pretense of trying not to look like a couple if that's what we were. The wine had made me feel woozy and the internal debate about Jackson and couples and relationships was pushed right to the back of my mind to be overanalyzed another time.
"I'll try," I said and brought his mouth down for a kiss.
"Get a room, you two," Maxwell's voice called out. "Jackson has a real thing about exhibitionism, Van. If you've seen those windows in his house..."
"To be fair, I think he has a point," I said quietly so only Jackson could hear.
We stepped over to Max. "We're going to head off. I've paid the bill," Jackson said. "Whatever bar tab Claire has racked up is up to her to sort, but I'm not expecting her in tomorrow morning. Her diary's clear anyway."
"I'll make sure she gets home okay," Max said, drinking what looked like carrot juice. "Was taking on this case a good idea?"
"It was her decision. That's enough shop talk. Say goodbye to everyone. If we try to do it, we'll be here until closing time." Jackson tapped his brother's arm, the affection evident.
Maxwell nodded. "Sure. I'll see you in the morning. Van, if you make sure he doesn't do any work tonight that will be the first weekend in about six years he hasn't been at his desk at some point. You been to the gym, Jacks?"
"Not needed to." He gave a shit-eating grin, eyes dancing, clearly hinting at what exercise he had been having.
I dug him hard in the ribs. "You're meant to protect my virtue!" I said laughing.
Max rolled his eyes. "Get lost, the pair of you, before Payton starts talking to you again."
We slipped away, heading towards the footpath next to Thames to take us back to Jackson's house. The water was still, just a gentle lapping half muffled by the tourists and runners and we walked in silence, simply holding hands.
"What do you want to watch on Netflix?" he asked as we drew closer to his home.
"Seriously?" I said. "I figured that seeing as you hadn't been inside me for over six hours we'd be heading to bed."
His grin was sly. "That is on the agenda. But I did think we could have a coffee and talk or watch some series first. Then maybe I could be in my new favorite place."
I looked away, not able to keep the smile off my face. He made me wet just hinting about what we would be doing later, without even a touch other than his hand holding mine. "I think you have an addiction."
He pulled my arm so I walked closer to him, then put his arm around my waist. "I think you're right. I think I'm addicted to you and I'm not sure how I'm not going to be pleasant to anyone this week if I'm not seeing you. When are you free?"
"I've client events tomorrow and Friday. Are you back Thursday?" I realized I needed to know when we'd see each other again and not just for work.
"I should be. I have mediation in Manchester and it could run over. What time will your client event finish on Friday?"
"I'm hoping it'll be done by eleven."
We reached his house and he pulled keys out of his pocket. "Then why don't you come by here afterward and bring a change of clothes. I'll cook us a light supper and we can try some more of that wine. We will need to catch up during the week about marketing, but if you need anything urgent, go to Maxwell."
"Sure." We headed upstairs to the large open plan kitchen, diner and living space. I kicked off my sandals and collapsed onto the sofa. I felt far too comfortable here already, even more so than I did at Sophie's. "It's so nice to have silence."
He laughed and I heard a bottle of wine open.
"I thought we were having coffee?"
"We are, but it's early enough to try one more of the Rieslings. What do you want to watch?"
I opted for a crime series that neither of us had seen and we curled up on the sofa with the wine until the sun dipped below the horizon and his soft touches had turned into something more and we headed upstairs again to the very big bed, still unmade from this morning.
It wasn't demanding, this time. It was sweet and leisurely and we clung to each other as my legs wrapped around him, my body used to taking his length and width, and he knew where to linger and stroke.
Afterward, with just the moonlight to make us visible, he lay with me half covering him, and I knew he wasn't yet asleep.
"Are you seeing anyone else?" he said and I could tell he was fighting with the words.
"No. I haven't since I left Richard. Are you?"
"No. Are you going to see anyone else?"
I raised a hand to his face and stroked his beard. "I wasn't intending on seeing anyone. Then I met my contractor a couple of days ago and he cast this strange spell on me and made me do things I don't usually do." He laughed. "Are you going to see anyone else?"
"No," he paused, more still on his mind. He didn't express it, instead moving me to my back and rising above me, kissing down my body until he reached my breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth and then the other, then working further down until he came to my centre, licking and sucking and tonguing me, tasting himself, until my body thrashed against the mattress as I came.
"There's never just once with you, is there?" I said, once I had regained my breathing.
"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Can you take me again? I don't want to make you sore."
"Tell me what you want to do to me."
"You like the dirty talk, don't you?"
I nod, my hand cupping his cock, starting to rub up and down.
"Fuck, Van. Stop. There's somewhere else I want to come." He moved over me again and I spread my legs. It seemed as if I was unable to keep them together when he was around, which didn't bode well for the office. He looked me in the eyes as he entered me. "You're always so wet for my cock." Thrusting harder he brought both hands under my ass, a finger playing with my asshole, already slick from my juices sliding down. "I'm going to come so deep inside you, you'll be thinking of me on Wednesday because you'll still be slick with it." Jackson kneeled, holding my hips up, finger still in place. The angle let him slide in deeper, his shaft banging my clit. "You like it rough, don't you, Van?"
I nod, gripping onto his arms, unable to speak.
"What do you want me to do to you? Tie you up? Put my hand on your ass? Tell me, lovely girl, how do you want me?"
"All of it. Fuck me how you want." And at that point, a part of me was lost and I didn't want it back. Every part of my life was measured, controlled, regulated. Apart from in bed with this man when I came apart.
He pushed his finger further up, a slight pinch of pain. "You want me here too?"
"Yes." And I did.
"You like this for every man or just me?"
I heard the ownership in his tone and it didn't scare me. "Just you."
"Fuck." He went deeper and I cried out, my pussy contracting around his cock and milking him hard. I felt him come in me, my nipples hardening tighter and I clutched onto him, not wanting him to vacate my body.
The kiss that followed was soft, both of us needy after the almost-confession that no priest needed to hear. "You okay?" he said, pulling the sheets up over us.
I ran my hand through his beard. "Yes. Jackson?"
"What is it?"
"I'm not usually like this, the way I've been with you this weekend."
"Does it scare you?"
"Yes. But I'm liking it."
"So am I. We'll talk more during the week. We should probably sleep now. Or ditch work tomorrow." We both laughed, knowing that wasn't an option for either of us.
I sat up, trying not to pull the covers off Jackson. "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom. I need to clean up. You can have the wet patch." He groaned and rolled over, half asleep already.
"I give her two orgasms and she makes me sleep in the wet," he muttered. "Shit, it really is a big patch!"
I listened to movements as I used the bathroom, taking off what was left of my makeup and having a quick wash so I would be more comfortable. When I walked back into the bedroom he had changed the bottom sheet and was looking smug.
"No wet patch. I didn't realize how much I came, although I knew how wet you were." I could see in the moonlight that trickled in through the window that he was pleased with himself.
"Not just you, you know." I got into bed and pushed my ass into his stomach, needing to be held. He spooned himself around me, one hand on my breast. "Now go to sleep."
"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled and that was the last thing I heard, heading into a dreamless sleep for the second time in more than a year.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Chapter Eleven
Jackson
Claire told me on a regular basis that I shouldn't be allowed to be present in another's human's company until I had drunk at least two mugs of strong, caffeinated coffee. By Thursday she'd told me I shouldn't be allowed to communicate with anyone, whether over the phone, in person or via social media, until I'd also had a fix of Vanessa each day.
"For fuck's sake, Jacks," she said via Facetime on Wednesday morning. "I've already had someone at the Manchester office, who shall remain nameless, contact us to find out if you're okay. As in mentally okay. Turn down the crank else you'll be getting more like our father than Maxwell!"
"I'm not cranky!"
"Really? Why did you shout at the receptionist then? What catastrophic ineptitude did she present you with?"
"She... I... Oh fuck. I'm turning into Dad." I put my head in my hands.
"You're not just turning in to Dad, you're turning into Dad when Marie was away. I'm worried, Jackson," Claire sounded serious which bothered me. "You met Vanessa a week ago and you're pining for her."
"I'm not pining! That's something teenage girls do. Or Seph."
"Seph could be considered a teenage girl," Claire said thoughtfully. "Thank God Payton's back and is knocking him into shape. She's set him up on a date tonight with someone she knows."
"I assume she doesn't like them and doesn't want to speak to them again."
"Harsh, brother, harsh. Anyway, when did you speak to Vanessa?"
"I tried ringing her this morning but there was no answer. She texted back to say she had an early morning meeting," I said, breaking a croissant into pieces.
"And when did you speak to her before that?"
"Last night before I went to sleep."
Claire looked accusingly at me, adjusting the iPad so at least her face blurred slightly.
"I'm not discussing what we were talking about with you. Besides, you don't want details."
"Damn right I don't want to know about your freaky phone sex. She's in the office at the moment and she's so busy. Kirsty's being a shit with her and not helping things at our end. I'm going to speak with Hilary in HR about her as I think we might need to look at a verbal warning. Anyway..."
"If she's not supporting Vanessa get rid of Kirsty!" I said, "She's been dragging her feet in that department for months. Can you imagine asking her to organize Dad's retirement?"
"As someone who has studied employment law, you will know that it's not that straightforward. Back to Vanessa. And you. Are you sure she doesn't feel that she has to speak with you all the time to ensure you keep her company involved with the marketing rebrand? It's just you seem very... consumed by her. I don't want her to feel pressured. Her relationship with her ex-was shit, Jacks. He was awful to her," Claire eyeballed me, a technique she'd learned from our step-mum.
"I don't think I'm pressuring her. She's too direct and upfront with me," I sighed. My conversations with Vanessa had been the getting to know you ones that hadn't involved work or exes or her business. We'd talked about what was going on in the news, what we'd done at the gym, the random shit people discuss and it was easy. I could see she was tired and she could see I was stressed as mediation was not going well at this point and I had a shit ton of other stuff to do. But I was being difficult with everyone else. "Yeah, you're right, I'm being shitty with everyone because I want to be in London at this moment in time sorting the office out. I'm going to appoint a new office manager, I've decided, and potentially another commercial litigator to help Seph."
"And you want to see Vanessa," Claire said, biting a nail.
"I want to have the option. I'm not sure her schedule would've allowed us to get together before Friday. And I don't want to rush things. I'm not great with relationships, Claire," I said, feeling vulnerable which I didn't like and would result in me lifting a stupidly heavyweight later.
"I know. You've had two long-term girlfriends who were really convenient fuck buddies who could schmooze a social situation. No arguments, no pressure, no real connection except you found them physically attractive and they were well-behaved," Claire summed it up perfectly. "You've not reacted to someone like this before. Sunday surprised all of us."
"The whole weekend surprised me." I hadn't spent so much time with one person unless it was one of my family members. I should be running a mile from Vanessa but I wanted to do entirely the opposite. "I'll try to wind in my irritation. I don't want to scare her off."
Claire smoothed down her bobbed hair. "I don't think you will. I think she likes you quite a bit but she's nervous after what happened with Richard the dick."
I wanted to preen at my sister's words: I think she likes you quite a bit. This was good.
"Jackson," Claire started. I recognized her tone: she was about to tell me what to do in a way that I would think I wasn't being told. "I'm uncomfortable with having this security shit for the Katie Worthington case."
"Tough. Shit." There was no room for maneuver.
"Look, I get hiring the PI to do some background on them both, but I don't need my apartment being swept for bugs and cameras. And I don't need someone keeping an eye on me in the evenings and mornings until the case is well underway, which will be months," Claire said, looking tense.
"They've been told not to cockblock you," I confirmed. "If they get too in the way let me know."
"What firm did you use?"
I didn't want to answer; I knew what her reaction would be.
"A reputable one."
"You used Killian's didn't you?"
"Claire..." I huffed loudly. "I need you to have someone we trust and although you and Killian don't get along – and I have no idea why you don't – he will ensure everything will be as safe as it can be. He's not going to be in your apartment or anything like that, he's just overseeing it. From a distance."
She didn't respond. I waited some more for the fireworks to start. None calm. This was strange.
"Okay. I get that you trust him. But I'm uncomfortable with him knowing what I get up to." She blinked slowly which meant she was really anxious about something. "I'm not going to tell you why so don't ask. Just pull security in the evenings when I'm out. Or let me do it. I don't mind having someone there when I'm walking home from work, but not when I go out after. And let's face it, Jacks, once this case starts I'm not having a social life."
"Okay. I'll em
ail Killian and copy you in. I know you're not stupid. And thanks for the kind of advice about Vanessa," I said, feeling slightly more grounded.
"You're welcome. She likes peonies, by the way."
I looked at her blankly, wondering whether she had started speaking a foreign language.
"Peonies. They're a type of flower. You want me to text you the number for the florist I use?"
I had never bought a woman flowers except for my step-mum, Marie. "Yeah, sure. What's a reasonable amount to spend without looking desperate?"
"Fifty or sixty quid. She's busy and stressed. Flowers will cheer her up. If you ring now they'll have them delivered by 5. Just don't put your name on, then no one in the office will suss you out. Right, I'm off to slay dragons in the next installment of 'custody wars: the sequel.'"
"I'm glad I didn't do family law," I muttered.
"You'd just shout at them until they hid under the table. You don't have my patience."
I ended the call before I said something that would really piss her off and waited for the phone number so I could order flowers.
***
By Friday my mood had lightened considerably. Mediation had ended late on Thursday and we'd ended up getting exactly what we'd set out to achieve, meaning I had happy clients and a sense of satisfaction. The other side was represented by a firm of lawyers I considered unprofessional at best and liars at worse. As well as getting a good result for our clients, I had wanted to wipe the smile off the face of their partner who had tried pulling every trick in the book and failed. After a decent night's sleep and a heavy work out at a gym in Manchester's city center I headed back to London, safe in the knowledge that I knew where Vanessa's clients' reception was tonight and I'd secured myself an invitation, thanks to a bit of work on Claire's behalf.
The office had a decidedly Friday mood; I heard more laughter than raised voices and noticed Mandy on reception already had her Friday night make-up on.
"Afternoon, Jackson," Mandy said as I walked passed. "Good trip?"
