Anna and Jackson

by Tigris Eden

  But for how long? My mind questions.

  My insecurities try breaking through the glass wall I built to hold it prisoner. I’m not going to let the past invade our future.

  “I’m no angel, sweetheart.” Jackson smirks, patting the empty spot on the bed next to him. I move without thought. I’m so attuned to this man, and it scares me sometimes. But I quickly squash the rising fear. It’s Jackson, and he’d never do anything intentionally to hurt me. I’m like a moth to his undying flame. I’m forever drawn to him. The air he breathes is an attractant to me. The moment I hit the bed he pulls me into his lap, making me straddle his thighs. Face-to-face now, Jackson stares at me. His eyes search mine. Callused hands cup my face and his golden-brown eyes are piercing as he just stares. This close I can see there are flecks of yellow, green, and gold with an overcast of amber that surround his pupil. He has such an intense stare I almost look away. A rumble of a groan travels up his throat and I can feel the vibration through his fingertips as they touch my skin. He does hold me. Owns my heart, my soul. I’m a shell of a woman when it comes to Jackson Storme, and as pathetic as it sounds, I can’t let it overwhelm me. There is much more to me than the love struck girl I seem to be whenever he’s near. His thumbs stroke over my cheeks, and his eyes penetrate the haze he’s cast over me.

  “Baby, do you know what you do to me, how I ache for you?”

  “Feelings mutual, Sheriff.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it, baby girl.” He whispers.

  Warmth surrounds me as his lips graze my forehead. Jackson moves to kiss softly against my lips.

  “I wonder if you know.” He whispers against my mouth.

  “Know what?”

  “I intend to keep you, Annabelle Macon. I intend to keep you for good.”

  My breath hitches and words are stuck in my throat as I try to decipher his true meaning. I don’t want to read too much into what he’s saying. My heart soars at his words, but my mind quickly puts out the fire and reminds me I need to stand firm. I need to wait this out and see where it leads instead of jumping to conclusions.

  “I don’t want to be a kept woman, Jackson.” My voice is small even to my own ears.

  His nose traces mine as he takes a deep breath.

  “Give in, Anna.”

  Haven’t I given enough? Why should I be the one always making concessions?

  “Work with me, Jackson.” I say back.

  His shoulders tense. Frustration is obvious not only in his posture, but in his tone.

  “Hell, woman, just let me take care of you.”

  “Why can’t we take care of each other? You and I are a team. Remember.”

  We’ve had this argument more than once. Neither of us gives in to the other.

  “We are a team, Anna, damn. But with you in New York, and me in Beauville. That doesn’t say good things to me.”

  “What are you worried about, Jackson? I only go on these trips maybe twice a month.”

  He gives me an agitated sigh. It makes me want to smack some sense into him. I can already tell this is not going towards a lazy morning, but an argument. His massive shoulders roll as he stretches his neck from side to side. He’s gearing up for what he thinks is the only thing that matters. His law, not mine.

  “I’m a man, Anna, and I’m also the law in Beauville. Every bone in my body is hard-wired to protect. Doubly so for my woman. If you’re not with me, how am I protecting you?” He leans forward, while pulling me toward him to kiss my brow.

  I wasn’t raised to be coddled and cosseted away by a man. I’m a grown ass woman. Not only am I grown, but I’m also strong, confident, and able to do shit on my own. Including gassing up a damn car. My mind is alight with pithy comebacks while my body melts further into his. I hate that he can do this to me. Confuse me, yet, insight my rage, while my body melts like butter.

  “Sheriff Storme,” I say against the side of his jaw. His head falls back on a groan. Rumbles start to gather in the center of his chest and slowly rise to his throat. I love that I can do that to him. “You know, I can take care of myself don’t you? Been doing it for a while now, just like my mama taught me.”

  He grabs my shoulder and sits me up so I’m able to see his face.

  “The Mayor takes care of your mama, and he takes care of you. How do you think Pearl sends you extra money?”

  I’m eying him like he has shit on his face, and with good reason. I know what people say about my mother and me. It’s never actually been confirmed, but it hasn’t been denied yet either. Hell, Wood and I look alike. But for Jackson to throw it in my face is wrong. I know where the money my mother sends me comes from. I also send it back when I can. I’m not rich, but I’m not poor either. I’m stuck in the in-between. I don’t need a reminder of how my mother and I survive. Especially from Jackson.

  “You’re a mean ass bastard for bringing that up.” I move to get off his lap, but his hands are at my waist and his fingers are digging painfully into my sides.

  “Move and I’ll darken that ass red.” He jerks me forward and I can feel the hard length of him through the blanket. Why does he go hard every single time we fight? It can be exhausting at times. Fighting, fucking, fighting some more, and always in that order. My robe and the blanket are the only things separating our skin. “How many times have I told you, Annabelle? I’m not like any man you’ve ever had to deal with before.”

  Like a thousand. I roll my eyes and Jackson’s fingers tighten at the same time his hips rise to bump my core. I refuse to give in to his distraction, so I back up resting my ass on his thighs, only to have him jerk me back.

  “Fuck, woman, but you’re stubborn.”

  “And you’re bossy. But I still l–.” I stop myself before the words tumble out. His brown eyes zero in on my face and a devil of a smile slowly emerges making him look that much more appealing. My Aunt Lorraine used to tell me to date and marry an ugly man. Her theory was they’d treat you better than any fine man would because they were grateful to have a good-looking woman at their side. For a handful of seconds, I think there is some truth to her theory. Jackson is becoming a pain in my ass. Granted he is a pain I crave in a way that questions my sanity, but I can’t shake him. I’m that bad.

  “Say it.”

  “Say what?” I ask, trying to look dumbfounded.

  “Say it, Anna.”

  I know what he wants me to say. Hell, I’m not stupid. But I’m also from the South, and no respectable Southern girl utters those words to her man. No, not unless all the right signs are present. Jackson hasn’t reciprocated my feelings in any way except through sex. Sure, he talks a good game, but he’s done that with all his women. I’m not stupid enough to play my hand this early.

  I remember when he said those same words to Melissa Carver at Joey’s and my graduation party. By then, I had scrounged up the courage to tell Jackson how I felt about him. Finally. My eighteen-year-old mind thought of all the delicious things he would do to my body. How he would turn me out and then declare his love for me. He’d just graduated from the academy and was home for his sister’s graduation. I was a skinny-boyish twig of a girl then. Still breaking in my C-cups. But I didn’t care, I thought then I was old enough to handle all that was Jackson.

  He was tall, dark, and my every fantasy. I’d rounded the hall to where I knew his room was and Jackson was there with Melissa. His hands tangled in her strawberry blonde curls, her up on her toes trying to get more of his kisses when he’d rumbled against her mouth. Told her he wanted to own her. Control her body and all that other stuff guys said to get what they wanted.

  Same shit he spouted earlier.

  I know I can be my own worst enemy. It’s been programed into my system from the time I understood what my own mother was going through. Pearl Macon is a kept woman. A well-kept not-so-secret love interest of the Mayor of Beauville. It caused me more grief as a child than most people assumed. My only true friend was Joey and her husband Treat. Hearing Jackson say the words melt my
heart. Who wouldn’t? With his dark voice, the richness of his tone alone was orgasm-inducing. I was in this for the long haul. I didn’t want to play games, but it seemed Jackson wanted us to.

  “How about breakfast?” I counter.

  The way to a man’s heart was not food. It’s ass and lots of it. I almost laugh as my cousin’s voice pops into my head.

  “How about you tell me what I want to hear.”

  I close my eyes and pray God gives me strength not to fall apart and surrender to Jackson’s request. I’m not shy or coy. I don’t like beating around the bush. But on this, I will not budge.

  “How about breakfast, a shower, and some morning sex before my shoot today?”

  Jackson’s eyes narrow. I mirror his expression.

  “Stubborn female.”

  “Bossy male,” I quip back before throwing my leg over the other side of his to get free.

  There. Crisis diverted.

  All is right in Anna’s world. For now.

  The room is a lot warmer and as Jackson heads for the shower, I go towards the kitchen.

  “What to cook for breakfast,” I wonder aloud as I flip on my tunes. Big Data’s “Dangerous” starts playing, which is perfect for this morning. Not to mention I love this jam.

  Breakfast consists of bacon, eggs, toast, and grits. Jackson likes his coffee strong, so I double up on the grounds. The music makes this all surreal and images of us doing this together overwhelm me. The two of us cooking together, doing dishes together, and after, sitting down to a nice quiet day in front of the television, or heading out to run errands. I’m so distracted by the thought, I almost jump out of my skin when his strong arms band around my waist and his large hands settle on my stomach. Jackson pulls me into his chest and kisses my shoulder. I grin, leaning my head to the side to give him better access.

  “Shower first baby, then breakfast,” Jackson says against my neck, nuzzling my skin. Both his arms are around me and we’re rocking back and forth. It’s slower than the beat of the music.

  “You gonna help cook?” I ask.

  “Mmmm. Yeah, put the coffee on first so it’s ready when we’re done. Meet me in the shower, beautiful.” He steps back, swatting my ass before turning, and heading down the hall.

  The shower is an exercise in patience. I want him and he wants me, but the enclosure is too small to pull off any kind of anything. So we christen the floor, the counters, and the wall in the hallway before we even make it to the kitchen. Satisfied and well-fed, I stare at Jackson from across the breakfast bar. He’s sipping his coffee, sans shirt and wearing dark jeans that hang low on his hips, giving me a glimpse of his happy trail. His feet are bare and crossed at the ankle. Jackson Storme is one fine ass male specimen. His hair is still damp from the shower and his face is rugged with two-day growth. The entire time he’s drinking from his cup, he’s staring at me as if he still hasn’t had his fill.

  “See something you like?”

  He smirks and something in his eyes darkens as he makes his way over to me. His gait is predatory, but calm. My heart starts to run a marathon. Adrenaline kicks in as I slowly set my coffee down and back away.

  “Don’t do it, Anna.”

  “Don’t do what, Jackson?” I ask, taking another step back.

  He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. He’s telling me not to run because there’s nowhere in my small ass apartment I can go. Right when I try to bolt, my front door bursts open and Talia walks in. Two coffees in hand and talking a mile a minute.

  “Girlfriend, girlfriend! Have I got something tell—” she sees Jackson. Her face slackens slightly and then lights up. She’s speechless, but only for a second. Jackson looks her way then mine, and calmly excuses himself.

  “Annabelle Macon, you dirty slut!” She half yells, half whispers. “You did not tell me he was on the fuck-me-all-day-all-night scale of hotness.”

  I cringe at her words. I like Talia, but she’s a true man-eater. She’s more than used to getting what she wants. They say keep your friends close and your frenemies closer. Talia is a little of both. She’s the friend you love to hang out with but the one you keep out of your personal business— and away from your man.

  Jackson resurfaces wearing a black Henley, and still no socks or shoes. Doesn’t matter that he’s put on the shirt. Talia has already seen the goods, and she’s drooling like a dog.

  “Ma’am.” He nods in her direction.

  “So formal and well-mannered. My, oh my, what a catch you are.”

  Jackson gives her a tight smile, but says nothing else.

  “Anna, where are your manners? You gonna introduce me to your man?”

  I stare dumbfounded and just a tiny bit freaked. I look nothing like Talia. With her red hair and green eyes, and model physique, she catches all that wish to be caught in her web. I’m thick and slightly soft in the middle, and right now, I’m in my frumpy tee and sweat pants. My hair is up in a messy ponytail and I’m wearing my glasses. Talia, as usual, is flawless. She’s in a Vera Wang suit, peekaboo pumps that make her legs look amazing, and her make-up is without error.

  “Jackson Storme, Talia Wilson.”

  Jackson raises a brow at her last name.

  “You’re Benson Wilson’s girl?”

  “You know my daddy?”

  “Yup, worked with your brother, Liam, a few years back.”

  “Oh goody, then were nearly family,” Talia purrs.

  I suddenly want to throw up, all over Talia.

  She takes a step towards Jackson, her face bright with interest. Jackson doesn’t mind, which only pisses me off. If it had been a man approaching me the way Talia was approaching him, well, let’s just say there would have been another argument. I have never been good at hiding my feelings. It’s all over my face. It’s a flaw I wish I could overcome. But when I’m hurt, it’s plain to see. I turn to walk away, but Jackson tags me around the waist and pulls me to his side.

  “Baby,” he grumbles,” where are you off to?”

  I look up at him and put on my best smile, but he’s not accepting that. His other hand holds my chin and then it’s just him and me. Jackson and Anna.

  “I was gonna go get dressed.”

  “Later, baby. You have company. Besides,” he grins and kisses me soundly on the lips, “I want to help you with that.”

  I grin, sagging into his side, forgetting about Talia, who isn’t at all happy she’s no longer receiving attention.

  “What were you saying Talia, when you first walked in?”

  Jackson engages her in conversation again, but she’s reluctant to start talking about whatever it was she had to say.

  “Well, you two are super cute.”

  Jackson looks down at me, and I up at him.

  “Yeah, we’re that,” he answers back. “Ms. Wilson, it was nice of you to stop by, but I haven’t seen my girl in a handful of days, and I’m leaving this evening. If you don’t mind, can she call you later?”

  Talia looks to me to rescue her from Jackson, but I can only shrug.

  “Um, yeah. Sure.” She turns and walks out, not even bothering to lock the door, the coffee she’d brought over for me still in her hand.

  “You need to get your key back.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Does she stay here with you?”

  “No, she has a place over on 5th Avenue.”

  “Good.” He growls.

  “Why? She make you nervous?”

  “Fuck no, but she was making you uncomfortable. I know her father and her brother. I’ve heard the stories about her. She’s trouble. I don’t like people trying to make you feel out of place, Anna. It’s a shit move from a jealous bitch.”

  I didn’t expect that to be his response. Most men – or maybe it was most boys, would have played that a different way. They’d have pretended not to notice or even worse, flirt and then feign ignorance when called out on their shit.

  “Okay, baby. Can I get ready for work now? I’ll get the ke
y from Talia.” I smile wide looking deep into his beautiful eyes. My heart instantly warms because he’s here, and he’s with me.

  “Yeah, but after you sit on my face. I’m still hungry.”

  Well that was something I was definitely on board with.

  “Annabelle?” I hear my name as Jackson and I walk down 125th Street. I’m taking him to Candlelight. They make the best chicken wings and fried rice in Harlem. I turn when I hear my name again and come face-to-face with none other than Jared. I’d been lucky enough to avoid him since our last run in at the shoot. I didn’t date much when I’d lived in New York full-time, but when I did, I always set my standards above par. Compared them all to the man I currently stood next to.

  “Jared.”

  Jared Belmont was born and raised in Harlem. We’d met in New Rochelle by way of Talia. He’d slept with her before he and I started dating which was the reason we’d parted ways. It was that, and he was so full of himself. Besides, I don’t do leftovers. Nor do I share, which was another of Jared’s not so brilliant ideas.

  “How are you?”

  “Good,” I say between thin lips. I want to get this over with, so I can go about my day. Jackson leaves tonight, and I don’t have time for Jared, or for Jackson asking questions. Hey, both their names start with J. Such an inappropriate comparison. Jackson stands there and I know what the right thing to do is, but for some reason, I’m a bit hesitant. I turn to look up at him, my brain going to mush when he dazzles me with his smile. “Jared this is Jackson Storme, my–,”

  “Man. I’m Anna’s man. Good to meet you.” Jackson finishes for me.

  Two hands come together in the center to shake. Jackson’s strong masculine hand to Jared’s manicured fingers.

  “Well good to know someone is keeping our Anna out of trouble.”

  Our Anna?

  “I don’t know about our Anna, but my Anna can get into as much trouble as she wants, as long as it’s with me.” Jackson gently maneuvers me into his side, kissing the top of my head. “It was nice meeting you, Jared, but my girl promised me chicken wings and fried rice.” Before Jared can respond, we’re headed back the way we were walking.