“I’m sure you’d love that?” I asked, but it was more a statement.
He laughed, throwing his head back as if it were the funniest thing he had ever heard. Many heads turned at the bar as we walked by but I ignored them. Other people’s opinions didn’t matter.
By the time Jackson stopped guffawing at me, we were outside and following Henry and Nicolette to a black car waiting at the curb. Shaking my head at the cliché of the young and rich in the city and their limos, I waited for the rest of them to slide in before I took a deep breath and slipped into the car behind Jackson. Panic seized me as I came up abruptly beside him. He was too close, having not scooted all the way into the car, and to my horror, the whole left side of my body ended up pressed up against the right side of his.
“Cozy,” he whispered and my face flamed.
He was still trying to get a rise out of me.
“Quite,” I responded before I could stop myself.
I’d be damned if I was going to let him think I was flustered.
He laughed again, this time quieter, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Nicolette and Henry looking at us. Nicolette was smirking, much to my dismay, and I swore I would yell at her for it later. Henry’s face was a mask of bewilderment and I hoped Jackson wouldn’t tell him what was happening between us. Not that it mattered anyway because I had no plans to ever see Jackson again after this disastrous night.
The driver pulled away from the curb and Jackson still hadn’t moved over. I didn’t let it get to me, despite my intense urge to jump away and sit on a different seat. If I was being honest, I didn’t hate being so close to him. My thigh was on fire, not because of the confines of the car but because his thick, muscled thigh was pressed against it. The discomfort of arousal at being so near to him spread through my body, settling between my thighs, and I was mortified at my reaction to him.
The memories of our night together flashed through my head again as our bodies touched, even in such a minute and insignificant way. I inwardly cringed, being careful not to let on that I felt anything. I wanted him to feel my indifference, to make him think he had no effect on me. This would make him leave me alone, I hoped. Hopefully, it would make all of the feelings that were bubbling inside of me and trying to come to the surface dissipate. It had to because if I let myself be consumed by the feelings building inside, I was afraid I would never come up for air.
I cursed my stupidity and questioned many life decisions as the car hurtled us uptown. Yes, I wanted to make her acknowledge she felt something for me, the way I did for her, but now here I was, talking myself out of an erection as her lithe thigh was resting snuggly against mine. The discomfort was clearly all mine because she stared straight ahead, talking casually to her friend and my cousin as if I weren’t even there, while I was sweating through my dress shirt inside of my jacket and gritting my teeth.
Maybe I was wrong about the imagined heat in her eyes at the restaurant and the incredible sex we had after she left the club with me. My repeated attempts to get a response from her, while they initially seemed to work, were failing. She was stoic and calm while I was hard and sweating. Why I cared so much whether this woman I slept with once—and had no intention of pursuing romantically—was attracted to me, made no sense. But I did, and I couldn’t just let it go.
I looked down at her again, trying to mask my discomfort. She was staring straight ahead at the barrier, which was in place to give us privacy from the driver. Her full bow-like lips were set in an almost pout and her brick-red hair hung in long, loose ringlets around her face. I stifled a groan. Studying her was having the opposite effect on me but I couldn’t look away. She was mesmerizingly beautiful and I was enthralled.
I willed her to turn around until she finally did, her forest-green eyes meeting mine. She stifled a gasp, turning away from me quickly, and that was when I figured out her cool and detached act was just that. I felt a small glimmer of satisfaction she was just as tortured by the contact as I was, and it made me even more determined to keep it up until we arrived at their apartment. I had this sick desire to get her to admit she was burning with lust in the same manner I was. I didn’t know why or what my endgame was but right now I needed her to admit it in the worst way.
Henry and Nicolette were oblivious to us; they talked in hushed tones with their heads close together. I was almost jealous of the way they were getting on, but not surprised. Henry was quite the ladies’ man when he turned on the charm, though I had never seen him so taken with a woman this way before. Usually, he would make out with them or be practically fucking the girl in the club or car but with this one, he was simply talking intently.
A pang of jealousy struck me again but I didn’t acknowledge it. Relationships with anyone, especially women, were not easy for me, so I didn’t delude myself into thinking this situation was any different. Women complicated things, made life messy. I had too much experience with a woman messing up my rather serene albeit lonely existence. I didn’t need another one.
Before I could ponder all of my life’s failings in depth, the car came to a halt at the curb. The driver got out and walked around to my door, and I cursed the fact that the curb was on Liza’s side of the car. I wanted a minute alone with Liza, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen at this point. She stepped out, and I felt both relief and disappointment when my thigh was no longer touching hers.
I turned and extended my hand to her as I was about to get out. She looked at me for a moment, her eyes narrowing as if she thought I had an ulterior motive. I obviously didn’t need the help but wanted to touch her again, to test the reaction we both would have to the contact. I had a feeling this may be the last time I saw her, and the need for contact was stronger than my need to keep my distance. I was being a masochist, wanting contact with a woman I couldn’t have a relationship with, but I needed her to give me something, even if it was just the slightest touch of her hand.
I was surprised when she reached for my hand because I thought she was going to brush me off. Her small hand gripped mine as she helped me from the car, and the stirring I felt at her touch unnerved me for a second time. It was electric, like static electricity on steroids. How was it that after one night with her, I wanted her even more? I hadn’t slept with a woman more than once in the last five years because I couldn’t offer anything more than one night. It sounded callous, but I liked it that way. It was easier for me, less messy and uncomplicated—the way I preferred my already complicated life to be.
I was so lost in thought I didn’t realize I was still holding onto her hand as we stood on the sidewalk. Instead of yanking it free, she stood there and stared at me, her chest rising and falling as if she were breathing heavily from exertion. Her eyes widened as they met mine and I let go, reluctantly, but didn’t move away from her. We stood staring at each other like that for a while, and time seemed to stand still. I couldn’t look away from her, not yet, and I almost felt foolish for the way I was trying to memorize her face.
“Liza?” Nicolette said, her voice filled with questions.
Nicolette’s voice broke our trance and Liza stepped back, shaking her head slightly. I did the same thing, as if the electricity of her touch short-circuited my brain.
“I have to go,” Liza mumbled before turning away from me to follow Nicolette to where a doorman stood, holding the door open to the building.
“Wait!” The word was out before I even knew I was going to say it.
Liza turned and her jade green eyes met mine with an unasked question. The thing was, I didn’t have anything else I felt I could say right then, but I didn’t want her to go just yet.
Henry and Nicolette looked between the two of us, the curiosity of our situation coming off of them like a visible aura. But I didn’t care what they thought; Liza was the only thing I could see at that moment, standing there, with the backlight from the streetlight making her red waves look like a halo of fire. She was more beautiful than the night I first saw her dancing
in the club, achingly so. I couldn’t breathe as I stared at her.
My body moved of its own volition and without thinking about the ramifications, I found myself standing directly in front of Liza, my arms wrapping around her waist. Neither of us had a minute to think before my mouth covered hers, and she sank into me as if her body was meant for mine. The whole world disappeared as her arms ensnared my neck and she deepened the kiss. We were hungry and aggressive, and our tongues warred with each other’s as if we were starving. The feel of her soft curves against me reignited the fire that had started in the car, and my brain began to scream at me to take her home with me. I had never felt arousal and desire like this before and it terrified me, but I was unable to stop the sweet torture.
“Hey! Are you Jackson Radcliffe’s new plaything?!” A man’s voice cut into our world, making the cocoon we were wrapped in shatter into a million pieces around us.
The sounds of camera shutters and a flash made Liza jump away from me abruptly and the moment was broken as quickly as it started. Her eyes were glazed but frantic and her lips plump from our kisses. She covered her mouth as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened.
“Oh no,” she whispered, her eyes flitted behind me to where the interruption had come from before she turned and ran into the building.
I wanted to run after to her, to ask her to stop and to go home with me, but I couldn’t because Henry was grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the car forcefully. I wanted to deck the paparazzi that invaded our privacy and caused Liza to retreat from me. It was only one guy with a camera, but that was enough to cause an uproar of holy proportions, and his words haunted me as I followed Henry to the car.
Cursing silently, I slid into the car behind Henry, who was cursing out loud, and slammed the door. The driver sped off from the curb as my gaze trailed behind us out the window to the building Liza had escaped into just moments before.
“What the hell was that?” Henry asked with a punch to my arm.
I barely felt it, my mind elsewhere, as I remembered the kiss with Liza and the look of horror on her face as she ran away from me.
“What?” I responded with a growl.
“What?!What?! You know what! All of that with Nicolette’s friend. From the moment they stepped foot into that restaurant, you were somewhere else, and you didn’t take your eyes off of her. Is there something you want to tell me?”
Henry leaned closer as he spoke, anger in his eyes. It made no sense why he was so angry with me, especially since I didn’t owe him shit, but since we were caught by the paparazzi and there was about to be a shit storm, I figured I should tell him about Liza.
“We met before,” I offered, not quite ready to blurt out the whole of how and when.
“Okay, you met before. The city is full of people I’ve met before but I don’t kiss them like that on city streets. What’s the rest, Jax?” Henry was staring at me and sitting so close in a way I wouldn’t have tolerated from most people.
I sighed and ran a hand over my hair. I could play games and talk in circles but in the end, I was going to tell him. I always did. Henry was my best friend in addition to being my cousin, and even though he was an asshole sometimes, he was one of the only people on my side lately.
“I met her at a club a few weeks ago. I slept with her.” I didn’t need to say anything else because Henry knew me and he knew my habits.
“Jesus Christ, Jax. Do you think she called the paparazzi when they were in the bathroom? Maybe she’s one of the fame seekers? Fuck. You have to stop trolling for women at clubs and bringing them to the hotel. What will Mother say?”
Henry ran a hand through his sandy brown hair and turned towards the window, his jaw set so tightly he looked like he would break a tooth. “I liked Nicolette, but you complicated shit, again.”
It was clear why Henry was pissed at me and why I should be pissed at myself, but none of that mattered. Maybe Liza did call the paparazzi but she didn’t even seem to know who Henry and I were when they came in. It could have been an act—I had met many women who pretended they didn’t know I was Jackson Radcliffe and were lying—but Liza didn’t seem the type. No, it had to all be a coincidence.
“I don’t think she called them, Harry,” I said, using my childhood nickname for him.
“Don’t call me Harry,” he said with a scowl as he turned back around. “And how the hell do you know?”
“She didn’t know who we were, and Nicolette said her dad set us up on the blind date, remember?”
Henry shook his head. “That could all be lies. Shit. I set up a date with Nicolette for next weekend. Maybe I should cancel?”
He didn’t sound like he wanted to cancel at all.
It was my turn to shake my head. “Don’t do that. Go on the date. Trust me, cuz, I don’t think these girls set us up. Nicolette has just as much to lose as we do. Remember who her father is?”
Henry nodded, the worry in his eyes seeming to seep away.
“You’re right. I forgot. But what are we going to do about the picture? And Mother?”
The worry came back with the set of his jaw.
“I’ll handle Aunt Bea and the press,” I said.
Henry bobbed his head again. “Fine. Take care of it.”
We rode the rest of the way in silence, the driver dropping off Henry first. I gave him a nod of appreciation as he stepped from the car and told him I would let him know how everything went.
“I’ll handle it all, Harry,” I said again.
He nodded, again, before closing the door and walking up to his building.
I sat back, resting my head against the seat back. I had no idea how I would handle it, but I had to. Paparazzi were nothing new to us but it was always a headache to deal with. Not feeling like going home, I sat up and leaned towards the partition.
“Can you take me to the hotel, Monroe?” I asked.
“Yes, sir,” he said and turned on the next side street to head back downtown.
I had the urge to seek out a woman from the club to sleep with and burn off some of my pent-up sexual energy and rage, but then Liza popped into my head and the urge faded. What was this woman doing to me and how was I going to figure all of this out?
I slammed the door behind me and turned around, my heart racing and my face flaming. Nicolette was standing there, smirking, with her hands on her hips. I leaned against the door, tilting my head back and closing my eyes for a minute.
“Liza.” Nicolette said my name as an admonishment.
I sighed. How did this happen? Somehow, my stupid one-night stand had turned into a nightmare. Who was that guy with the camera? A paparazzo? His words echoed in my head.
Plaything.
I shivered at the implications as the memory of the women from the restroom came flashing back as well. Images of Jackson sitting on a sofa in the same club where we met, surrounded by busty blondes, bombarded me and I groaned.
“Liza, what is going on?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk to her about it but I knew she wasn’t going to let it go. And the photographer? Shame and embarrassment coursed through me again, my face heating and my stomach clenching. This was worse than a nightmare, it was hell.
“Nic, I really don’t want to discuss it…” I began, but she held up a hand to silence me.
“No, you can’t shut down on me now. We need to talk about this. Did you hear what that guy said? He called you a ‘plaything.’ What happens when they print that? What if your school sees? Or my dad? Maybe I should tell Dad and get it over with? He knows people; he can stop it from being published.”
Nicolette turned around and paced towards the kitchen, pulling a stool out at the island, and sat before hopping back up again and pacing to the cabinet. She pulled out chamomile tea bags and grabbed two mugs without even asking if I wanted some, which I did.
I followed her, my mind spinning. Should we tell her dad? What would he think of me? Mr. Fowler always said I was a positive and calming
influence on Nicolette. Would he change his mind about our friendship if he thought I was sleeping around? A fresh wave of mortification washed over me and I groaned again.
“I don’t know about telling your dad, Nic,” I said, shaking my head and accepting the mug of steaming, herbal tea she handed me.
I pulled out a stool and sat at the island, blowing on the tea as I waited to see what she had to say.
“What are the other choices, Liza?” she asked me, throwing her hands up.
I understood her frustration because something similar was coursing through me. That, and shame at my own behavior.
How could I let this happen? Not that I thought paparazzi would be lurking or even that Jackson would kiss me before we went inside. I couldn’t have predicted any of those things. Although, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted him to at that moment. In fact, the only thing I could think about as we stood on that sidewalk and I looked into his deep brown eyes was kissing him.
“Unless…” she began and I snapped out of my thoughts of Jackson, thoughts that got me into this mess in the first place, and looked at her questioningly.
“What?!” I finally said because instead of finishing her thought, she was hunting in the pantry for honey to stir into her tea.
“Chill, let me take a sip first,” Nicolette said with irritation.
I was practically vibrating with impatience. “Nicolette, this is more important than your damn tea,” I snapped at her.
“Relax, Liza. Don’t you think I know that?”
She picked up her mug again and took another sip before setting it down, incredibly slow, and looked back up at me. Based on the smirk on her face, I could tell she was fucking with me, and I scowled.
“What I was going to say was that maybe you should just call Jackson and see if he can deal with it? His family is way more connected than my dad.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, the beginnings of a headache niggling at my forehead. Dealing with Nicolette was exhausting sometimes.
One Night Page 4