But Jackson wasn’t caving, especially not now. “Look, Carly’s not here for the long run, and despite what you think about how I look at her, I’m not interested in taking a walk down the aisle. Not with anyone, not ever. No offense,” he added quickly, heading off the retort he sensed Shane brewing up. “I don’t exactly have a great legacy in that department, you know? I’d just as soon not take the chance.”
“Dylan’s getting married, and he has the same father as you,” Shane pointed out in a bold push, and something dark and ugly dislodged from the recesses of Jackson’s brain.
“Dylan’s too young to remember what happened that night, Shane. But I’m not.” The dingy row house flashed in Jackson’s memory, broken dishes on the kitchen tile, the bright red shock of blood being spit into the porcelain sink. “I remember what he did to her, and why he did it. I’ll never be able to forget.”
Jackson stiffened to the point of pain. He couldn’t go there. He just couldn’t.
“Okay.” Shane’s concession reverberated through the quiet even though he’d offered it softly. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I just thought . . .”
Jackson cut him off with a curt shake of his head. “I know, and it’s cool. I really am happy for you and Bellamy. But what I’ve got has to be different. It is different,” he affirmed, his eyes burning from fresh tension and lack of sleep.
“You’re different. You’re not your father.” Shane’s words sliced through him, separating muscle and bone, and Jackson’s stark reply was no more than a gravelly whisper.
“It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”
Carly tiptoed into Jackson’s apartment, hooking the spare key he’d given her a few weeks ago dutifully on the nail by the kitchen phone. It was after midnight, but the response she’d gotten today from the resort’s executive board coupled with Bellamy’s engagement had made her persuade Gavin to crack open a couple bottles of champagne after closing. Two glasses of bubbly had been enough to send Carly’s already great mood soaring over the edge into a full-fledged happiness that she hadn’t felt since . . .
Well, ever, really.
A quick peek into Jackson’s darkened bedroom told her he was out cold, and she squashed the tinge of disappointment swirling through her. He’d been working hours that resembled her own this week, which had clearly taken a lot out of him. Ah, well. They’d have a little time in the morning for her to fill him in, and certainly, her great mood would carry over into daylight hours. For now, she needed a shower anyhow. Going to bed smelling like garlic aioli wouldn’t win her any points no matter how good her news was.
Carly cranked the shower to one step below scalding, shedding her grungy chef’s whites to let the water unknot the muscles in her shoulders. Lord, that felt good, and her body quickly melted to match her mood, loose and mellow and delicious. A familiar green and white bottle caught her eye, making her grin. Jackson must’ve picked up her favorite shampoo on his one harried trip to the store this week.
She closed her eyes, getting lost in the smell of honeysuckle and silky bubbles as she scrubbed her hair twice for good measure. The water rolled down her back, chasing the bubbles down the drain and leaving its warmth like a signature on her skin, and she leaned into it with a sigh. After one last pass with her fingertips to ensure she was suds-free, Carly reluctantly turned from the water to slide the Ivory from the soap dish and nearly had a panic attack.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” She balled her fists in an involuntary response while her heart tried its best to vault from her ribcage to the shower floor. Jackson’s lazy smile registered about three seconds before she threw a punch, and he peered past the flimsy shower curtain he’d nudged aside to watch her bathe.
“No. Just me.” He crossed his thick arms over his even thicker chest, leaning against the tile jamb as he continued to look at her, gaze unwavering.
“Very funny. You scared the hell out of me, you know.”
“And you are very beautiful, you know.”
Carly pulled back, realizing belatedly that she was very, very naked and that Jackson’s smile was a lot more sensual than she’d first noticed. “I . . . um, I am?”
He nodded once, a firm tilt of his chin. “Stunning.”
Her skin flushed, and even though Jackson had seen her without clothes plenty of times by now, she fought the urge to cover herself, to be less vulnerable. “How long have you been standing there?”
“A few minutes. Does it bother you?”
“No.” The truth popped out of her, unbidden, despite the urge to be less exposed. “Although I’m not sure the drowned rat look really qualifies as beautiful,” Carly added, twisting the wet tendrils of her hair together before letting them fall down her back. Heat flashed over Jackson’s gaze, darkening his eyes to the color of new denim, and before she could register his movements, he was standing beside her under the spray.
“What are you doing? You’re dressed,” she said, half-laughing and half caught in shock. Water streamed down his chest, plastering his T-shirt and gym shorts to his body after about three seconds, but he didn’t even blink as he lowered his mouth over her ear, sending hard ripples down the ladder of her spine.
“I’m showing you how beautiful you are. Since you’re clearly unaware.”
Carly’s knees threatened to turn as liquid as the water rushing over them, and she pressed her palms against Jackson’s chest. “Oh.” Her answer quickly lost its reply-status and became a moan as he edged the tip of his tongue down her neck in a delicate line, swirling over the spot where her shoulder met her body. “Oh. Maybe we should get out of the shower,” she murmured, but he shook his head, freshly emerging stubble scratching against her wet skin.
“No.” His eyes glittered, so hot with desire that Carly’s argument trailed off before she could voice it again. “I want you here. Just like this. Right now!”
His mouth was on her like the sinuous blue flames dancing beneath the grates of her cooktop, delivering searing heat with every pass. Her nipples hardened to peaks, and the crush of her chest against his only served to increase her aching need. Jackson knotted his fingers through her hair, catching the wet curls and tugging to gain better access to her neck. She arched up, so eager to meet him that her want bordered the needful edge of despair until he buried his face in her neck, laying a path of greedy kisses toward her ear.
“God, I love it when you do that.” Her sigh bubbled up from deep beneath her ribs.
Jackson slanted his mouth over hers, taking her lip from between her teeth with his own to coax her mouth open. “Say it again.” He hovered over her, breath fanning out over her aching body, and Carly replied without hesitation.
“I love it when you do that.”
With his mouth still on her like wildfire, Jackson palmed the back of her shoulders, scooping her body forward to capture her in a tight, unforgiving fit. “What about now?” He swung her back to the slick tile, propping his hands on either side of her ribcage before dipping his mouth to one breast.
Sparks shot through Carly’s body, landing right between her legs with an aching, needful burn. “Yes.”
But Jackson lifted his head, hovering over the pebbled tip of her nipple in an excruciating pause. Instinctively, Carly’s hands laced around the sinewy muscles in his neck, and she arched up to close the space between them.
“I love it when you do that,” she finished, the pads of her fingers tightening on his wet skin as he laved her breast with a hot, swirling stroke that nearly stole her knees. Oh, God, she wasn’t going to last much longer like this.
As if he could read her mind, Jackson bent lower, kneeling in front of her while nudging her legs apart with the frame of his body and a very hungry, lust-blown smile.
“Anything else?” He feathered kisses low over her belly, making it impossible for Carly to form a coherent thought other than yes.
“Yes?” Jackson echoed, and she realized she must’ve uttered the word out loud. He trailed a callused finger along t
he crease where her leg joined together with her hip, drawing a keening moan from the depths of her chest.
“Please take me. Please.”
For a heartbeat, their eyes connected, his honeyed lashes wet from the shower spray, blue stare so intense and piercing and full of deep want that tears heated the corners of her eyelids. Jackson looked up at her, all the way through her, and even though Carly felt lost on a sea of ripping emotions, she knew he was her anchor.
And then his mouth was on her, and she promptly forgot her name.
With his strong, steadying palms braced around her trembling hips, he pleasured her in perfect strokes, holding her fast as she writhed at his ministrations. When the delicious anticipation building at her core became a screaming demand, Carly didn’t hold back, and Jackson didn’t relent. Cupping her bottom to keep her close, he wrung every last gasp from her until she slid bonelessly into his waiting arms.
In her post-orgasmic haze, she vaguely registered Jackson lifting her up and tossing the shower curtain aside as if it were tissue paper. Fragments of motion made it past her senses, and the cool air met her wet skin to draw a surprised breath past her lips. But then they were in the sweet darkness of Jackson’s bed, where she reached up to peel his soaked T-shirt from his body.
“I love the way you feel,” she whispered, feeling a hot lick of satisfaction uncurl in her belly as Jackson flung the rest of his clothes from his damp skin.
“Carly.” His voice prowled out of him, low and predatory, but she opened her knees in a wordless invitation.
“I love the way you look at me,” she pressed, turning her back for a split second to take a condom out of the bedside table drawer. Her wet hair hung over one shoulder, and she peeked through the curtain of it to see Jackson’s eyes trained on her every move. “Like that,” she breathed, unable to keep the lust from her voice.
“Carly.” The inflection of her name was caught between a prayer and a warning, but she didn’t heed either one. She scooted back to the edge of the bed, running her fingertips over his erection lightly enough that he hissed out a breath.
“And I love the way you say my name.” Her touch grew stronger, more purposeful, as she caressed Jackson with sure, even strokes until he was fully sheathed and gasping for more. She edged forward, letting her knees list open, and with one swift, unrelenting push, he was inside of her.
“Oh, God.” Carly arched her hips to match Jackson’s thrusts, reveling in how good he felt over her, his chest on hers, their arms twined together as he made love to her in flawless rhythm. The now-familiar ache uncoiled, low in her belly, and her breath hitched into a moan as it spread out to slide over her sex in another gripping climax.
“I love you. I love you,” Carly whispered, clutching Jackson’s shoulders. He stiffened, canting his hips into hers with a deep shudder, gripping her hips with taut fingers. Lowering his mouth to hers, he stole a kiss from her so intense, it tumbled her already hazy thoughts, and she arced up until there was no space between their bodies at all.
Tears sprang into Carly’s eyes and tracked down her cheeks, surprising her with their release. The connection she’d felt when Jackson had looked up at her in the shower was nothing compared to this, and it filled her right down to the smallest, darkest places.
It was only after he’d brushed his lips over the crown of her head and gotten up to turn off the still-running shower that Carly realized exactly what she’d said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Luke Calloway pushed back from his contract-strewn desk, shaking his head at Jackson and grinning ear to ear.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, man. All the work you threw into getting us this bid is going to pay off in spades. You’ll head up the job, of course, so it won’t be small potatoes in the labor department. But this one’s going to be the crown jewel of our year for PR. Nice job.”
“Yeah. I’m glad the offer came through.” He stared absently at the half-ream of paper, stamped with Pine Mountain Resort’s official logo. The proposal, complete with expected timetables and detailed schematics from Brooks Farm, looked downright intimidating.
It paled in comparison to what churned through Jackson’s brain as he stood in Luke’s cramped office.
“Look, I know you’re beat from that kitchen remodel, and I’m really grateful you’re here on your Saturday morning. Why don’t you take the weekend to catch up on sleep and gear up to start this on Monday? Touch base with Owen Brooks, get the schedule in place for excavation and planting, and go from there. I’ll return the signed contract to the resort to make it official, and we’ll be good to go.” Luke shuffled the papers into a pile with a sharp rap, and it skittered across Jackson’s nerves like sandpaper on silk.
“Sure thing, boss.” He threw a smile on his stubbled face, praying it didn’t look as forced as it felt. Luke, who acted like he’d just won the lottery, didn’t seem to notice, giving Jackson the first tinge of relief he’d felt ever since Carly had breathed those three fateful words in his ear.
I love you.
The whisper echoed through his head as he crunched his way over the gravel drive to his truck, slumping against the driver’s seat with a grunt. How the hell had he not seen this coming? With all the time they’d spent together, it should’ve been a no-brainer, for Chrissake, and yet Carly’s declaration had blindsided him. Of course, it had scrambled everything inside of him on the way, tossing up feelings he’d lodged so deeply within himself, he’d sworn they’d never see the light of day.
Right now, they might as well be laundry on the line. Even worse, Carly had clearly wanted to talk about it when he returned to bed, but he’d gently cut her off, feigning exhaustion. The emotion in her eyes as she hesitated to lie down next to him nearly undid Jackson right there on the bed sheets, but he knew better than to go down that path. Besides, what could he possibly say?
I’d love you, too, only it would be hazardous to your health?
The way Carly had looked, so sweet and provocative and pure with her eyes closed against the spray of the shower, had stirred up a desire in him that blew past want in favor of forceful need. In that moment, he’d have done anything to have her—anything—and the icy fear of it, coupled with the certainty of her words as they’d made love so intensely he thought he’d never recover, told him everything he needed to know.
Leaving her was the only way to save them both.
“I am the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.” Carly squeezed her eyes shut over her coffee cup, feeling the bite of the table on her elbows as she dropped her head into her hands.
“Sweetie, telling Jackson how you feel doesn’t make you an idiot.” Sloane tipped her dark head at Carly, the sympathy on her face plain. Carly pushed back in her chair, surveying La Dolce Vita’s dining room. It was empty, save for the kitchen staff in the back and Gavin tallying receipts and checking inventory behind the bar, and Carly breathed a sigh of relief at the few hours of down time she had between the rush of lunch and dinner during Saturday service.
“Still. I can’t go falling in . . .” Carly trailed off, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I can’t go feeling like that about somebody. Look at what happened the last time I trusted a man.”
But Sloane was ready with an eye-roll of epic proportions. “Come on. You’re not seriously comparing Travis with Jackson, are you? It’s apples and oranges, and the apples are rotten to the core.”
“Well, the oranges could still break my heart, Sloane. And I don’t think I could take it again.” The admission made Carly want to bury herself deep in her kitchen indefinitely, and she crossed her arms over her chest to cover the heave of her sigh. She couldn’t have kept her mouth shut, could she? Stupid great-sex endorphins!
But it wasn’t her mouth, really, that she was worried about. It was the rest of her.
Namely the heart she’d just unwittingly put on the line.
“Carly.” Sloane leaned in, pausing before her voice softened over her next words. “Have you stoppe
d to think that maybe Jackson is your swan?”
Sloane’s question felt like quicksand sifting through Carly’s lungs. She wasn’t the type to blurt out I love you’s in the heat of the moment.
Yet that’s exactly what she’d done.
“I don’t know.” Carly’s voice trembled, and Sloane slid from her seat to put her arms around Carly in a tight hug. “Nothing ever felt like this with Travis, you know? Not even when I caught him redhanded and knew everything was over. I just . . . I . . .”
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, cucciola.” Sloane smoothed Carly’s braid, and although she did her best to fight them, tears heated beneath her eyelids.
“It would be if he doesn’t love me back,” she whispered, the words sticking in her throat.
Sloane gave her a squeeze before pulling back to look at her reassuringly, and Carly was shocked to see her friend’s eyes also rimmed with tears. “Oh, honey. After everything he did for you last week with your mama? Anybody with two eyes and half a brain can see he’s nuts about you.”
“Yeah, but just because he helped me out when I needed it doesn’t mean he’s my egret . . . swan . . . love-of-my-life-bird-man,” Carly argued, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
Sloane snorted, surprisingly graceful. “At least you’re getting the idea.”
Carly blew out a shaky sigh. “Why can’t this be easy, like following a recipe?”
“The good stuff is never easy. But if he’s your swan, you’ll figure it out.”
Carly managed a soft chuckle, even though her heart wasn’t all the way in it. “How’d you get so smart about all this love stuff, anyway?”
Gimme Some Sugar Page 27
