The cold floor and coherent thoughts were forgotten as I pulled my running leggings off in one swift motion, tossing them to join my bra and top. Jackson groaned when he saw I wasn’t wearing any underwear, and just as quickly, shed his clothes. I didn’t have a chance to even admire his body before he scooped me back up and deposited me into the stand-up shower, stepping in after me.
We both stood under the spray, him behind me with his hard body wrapped around mine. My body was an inferno about to erupt from his touch. Between the heat emanating from his skin, the hot water coming down on my head, and the desire I felt deep in my belly, I was lightheaded with all of the sensations. I tried to turn around, to press the front of my body to his, to get closer to him in more ways than one, but he held me where I stood, reaching for the soap instead.
With slow deliberate strokes he began to wash me. First, my back, gently pushing my hair over my shoulder to avoid getting soap on it, then down my arms and around to my belly. He steered clear of my breasts and butt, moving down to a crouch and washing my legs one by one before lifting each one and washing my feet.
The slow torture of his gentle touch was too much and I was on the verge of combustion. The more he caressed me and missed the places where I wanted him to touch, the hotter I became. When he looked up at me, while I panted with anticipation, I could tell from the slight smile on his lips he knew exactly what he was doing.
Jackson finally stood up, setting the soap back where it came from on the shelf to his left. He turned me around to face him and using the remaining soap left on his hands, he massaged both of my breasts, making my nipples bead even in the hot water. I threw my head back, moaning loudly as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him and all of the way under the water. Our bodies collided, his hard erection against my belly and his hands kneading my ass. I pressed kisses to his chest, my hands roaming over his biceps and back as we stood there, chest to chest, exploring each other’s bodies with touch until the water started to run cold.
With a flick of his wrist, and catching me by surprise, Jackson turned the water off, pushing the shower door open and grabbing a towel. Until that moment, I thought his goal was shower sex, but as he dried us both off, my desire nowhere near cooling, I knew he had something else in mind. I couldn’t look away from him as he rubbed the water off of my skin and the urge to crash into him and resume touching him was strong.
My lips longed for his kiss and my body ached for the feel of him against it. I could tell he felt the same because the look in his eyes said he wanted to devour me. But he was holding back this time. Confusion threatened to dampen my desire but I pushed it all away. Jackson was still here and I wanted this. I wasn’t going to let myself overthink it. Not yet.
Tossing the towel to the ground when he was satisfied I was dry enough, Jackson grabbed me around the waist, lifting me into his arms again, our naked bodies pressed together in a way that made me forget all of the doubts that had risen in the previous moments. He still wanted me. As quickly as we exited the shower and dried, we made our way to the bed, unable to keep our hands to ourselves as he carried me into the room. Unlike our other rushed and frantic sexual encounters, this one felt different, more intimate, and on some level, it scared me in a way I couldn’t articulate.
Jackson lifted me onto the bed and I lay back. He covered my body with his, the chill I started to feel from my still-damp hair and skin dissipating with the radiant heat he was giving off. Our eyes locked and my stomach somersaulted by what I saw in his gaze. The wall he had kept firmly in place since we left the benefit the night before had finally fallen away and for the first time, I felt something, an emotion I wasn’t allowing myself to feel for him before.
Fear and something else made me close my eyes for a minute to break the connection. I wanted this—the sex and the physical attraction so intense, I couldn’t deny it any longer—but did I want something more too? I spent so many hours telling myself this thing with Jackson wasn’t anything more than what was happening now, but could it be? I hadn’t allowed myself to think past sex.
Opening my eyes, I looked into Jackson’s again, green to brown, searching, but what I saw there before was gone, leaving behind only lust and heat. For now, that was good enough and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him to me. When he realized what I was trying to do, he took the reins, slamming his mouth into mine, and our lips crashed together with so much force the pleasure bordered on pain. I didn’t care about that either and it only heightened my arousal.
Spreading my legs wide, he settled between them, his throbbing heat pressing against my overly sensitive core. He reached between us, positioning himself at my entrance for a second before using the tip of his cock to spread the moisture around to my clit. A jolt zinged through me from finally having contact after all of the anticipation, and my hips bucked off the bed as I pressed myself against his erection, needing to feel more, for him to be inside of me. But he kept up the sweet torture, rubbing the tip of his erection against my clit until I saw stars, the orgasm tearing through me without warning.
Before I could recover, he pushed inside of me, deep and quick, my back bowing off the bed to accommodate him though it didn’t hurt because I was so aroused. I hiked my legs up over his hips and leaning on one arm, he grabbed my ass with the other, lifting me to meet him thrust for thrust. What was once slow and tender touching became frantic fucking, and I clawed at his back as I felt a second orgasm begin to build.
This had never happened to me before, this level of intensity with sex, and I felt like I was on a runaway train because I had no control over my own body. I craved it, didn’t want him to stop, but at the same time, I was terrified because my body was no longer mine. I belonged to him and him to me and at this moment, we existed solely for the other’s pleasure. It threw me off-kilter, made me want to scream for him to stop while simultaneously telling him to never let go.
The second climax hit me stronger and quicker than the first, making me cry out incoherently as I clung to Jackson as if my life depended on it. He followed me quickly, growling with an animalistic noise I had never heard him make before as he came, and I dug my nails into his ass. He crumpled on top of me, his head next to mine on the bed, facing me but with his eyes closed. His weight was heavy but I welcomed it and stroked his back gently as our breathing evened out and our hearts slowed.
I anticipated him pushing off of me and searching for his clothes to escape, the way he had before, but he lay there with me, still inside of me, as the sweat and water from the shower dried and cooled us. This was different, that much was evident, but in what way, I didn’t know. I was afraid to question it right now because I didn’t want to ruin what we just shared. So, I lay there, rubbing his back, waiting for him to give me a cue for what to do next. I didn’t want it to be my move because I didn’t want to make the wrong one.
I fucked up.
That was one of the main things running through my head as I lay with Liza and she lazily stroked my back, tenderly. It was an action that truly spoke louder than words and I wanted to grab her hand, make her stop, because I couldn’t deal with what it meant. I went too far this time, I let us cross a line and I had no one to blame but myself. The problem wasn’t the sex or the shower before the sex, or even the fact that I was laying with her, like this, for so long afterward.
The problem was that she saw, maybe for the first time, what I had been trying to hide from her the moment I saw her inside of that club. Not only did she see, but she let it get to her. That was what I saw, that was what she showed me, and I think that was the thing that scared me the most. I felt something for Liza I had never felt before, and every time I was with her, every time we were together, it grew and blossomed into something I swore I would never feel again, not for anyone. The moment our eyes met in that club, the moment she looked at me with wild abandon, I knew she would be my undoing, and here I was, letting her have at it.
I had the urge to run, to escap
e, to flee far, far away from everything that was happening. But instead, I lay here with her, while we both crumbled under the weight of this inevitable attraction that would likely destroy the both of us because I wasn’t strong enough to deny her any longer. Liza deserved better than me. If she knew how my last serious relationship ended, she would be the one who ran. And she should. I wanted her to, for both of us. I selfishly kept coming back, because the need to see her, to be with her, was stronger than my need to protect her. I was being selfish but what else was new.
I fucked up.
With a sigh, I rolled off of her, our bodies finally disengaging. I resisted the pang I felt in my chest at pulling out of her and moving away from her heat and her soft touch. It wasn’t my right to feel bereft when I was the one who let it get to this point. Liza looked up at me with a lazy smile, the foundation of her fortress crumbling before me. I could see everything now. She was letting me in and another pang gripped my chest. I broke through her walls and while I knew I should be happy about it, I wasn’t, because it only meant she would stop pushing me away. And I would destroy her.
I would destroy both of us.
“Do you still want to go to brunch?” I had no idea what else to say to her. I felt raw, bared to her, without any way to reverse what had just been done.
Liza gave me a strange look before smiling again. “Sure, if you want to. We need the pictures, I guess.” She shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal, and I wished like hell she could understand what I was feeling right now because it was a big fucking deal.
“Okay. I dropped some hints that I would be out with you today, so I’m hoping the paparazzi take the bait.” How was I having a normal conversation while my mind was in a swirl of confusion?
Liza turned all the way over, sitting up and swinging her legs off the end of the bed. She gave me the look again, as if she were trying to figure something out, except this time it was followed by a frown. I tried to lock down my emotions, unused to putting it all out there for anyone, but it felt wrong to hide from her now. Without warning, she stood, resting her warm hands on my chest. I let out a soft groan despite myself, because just touching her felt right and made me feel whole. I leaned into her touch as if by reflex.
Damn, what was I doing?
“We could always stay here,” she said quietly as she absentmindedly drew tiny circles on my chest with her fingers.
I wanted to say yes, to grab her around the waist and throw her back on to the bed, and stay there for three days, but I also knew the longer I was alone with her, the farther I would fall. Then, there wouldn’t be any turning back, and I owed her more than that.
I shook my head vehemently. “No. I told Henry to meet us there with Nicolette.” The obligation to others would make her acquiesce. Liza would never let anyone else down.
“Oh, well, in that case, let me get dressed,” she muttered, pulling away from me.
I closed my eyes against the coldness that followed the loss of her touch, before turning and gathering my clothes from where they were strewn around the room. We dressed in silence, and I stole unnoticeable looks at her as she dressed in a pair of tight, skinny jeans and an oversized sweater before rubbing hair product on her brick-red curls and applying a light coat of makeup. She looked so beautiful, in the most innocent way, that I had to look away more than once, cursing myself for ever setting eyes on her in that damn club. We would be each other’s undoing, and we were too deeply mired in it now that there was no going back. At least, not for me.
“Ready?” I asked as she glanced in the full-length mirror in the corner one more time.
Liza nodded. “Let’s go,” she said, and reached out for my hand as she walked towards me.
I stifled a gasp at the gesture because before now, I was the one who initiated contact, and I didn’t want to think about what that meant.
Without further thought or words, I grabbed her hand and we headed out. My best hope was when it all fell apart, she would be okay.
The restaurant was crowded and I felt a little out of sorts. Jackson threw me for a loop with the way he behaved when we had sex. I wasn’t expecting him to be so open with me, after everything, and I was still reeling from how much he revealed just in his actions alone. He unnerved me but for the first time, I didn’t want to run from what I was feeling. This felt different and I was worried we got carried away. It seemed silly because though we didn’t actually say anything that would change our relationship, I knew something had shifted with both of us.
Sneaking a glance at him again, I held back the deep sigh I wanted to release. Maybe this was a mistake. Already, I felt like every set of eyes in the room was on us, and I felt like running again for reasons that had nothing to do with the way I felt about Jackson. How did Jackson deal with the constant scrutiny every day?
“Right this way, Mr. Radcliffe,” the hostess said, her voice too loud and sing-songy.
I winced, because everywhere we went the last two days, it was the same reaction, and I wondered again at Jackson’s ability to tolerate it. We followed the waitress, Jackson looking back to check that I was behind him. I gave him a slight smile and he smirked at me. My heart skipped at how handsome he was and I let myself focus only on him, and not the rest of the patrons as we walked to the table. No one else mattered anyway.
With a sweeping motion akin to a game show model, the hostess showed us our table, which was in the back corner of the room and slightly isolated from the rest of the tables. Sometimes being rich and famous had its benefits. Jackson nodded at her and she laid out four menus on the empty table. He pulled out a chair for me in the back and I sat before he took the seat next to me.
“Henry texted me when we were in the car, they should be here soon,” he said as if reading what my next question was going to be.
I bobbed my head up and down but didn’t answer, instead choosing to look at my menu while I gathered my thoughts. It wasn’t awkwardness that gave me pause, because I never felt awkward around Jackson, not even the first time we were together, but the newness of the situation. The feeling that we were suddenly a real couple, and not two people who barely knew each other pretending to be a couple, made my throat suddenly feel like it was closing. I looked up at Jackson quickly to make sure he didn’t see the panic in my posture.
“What’s the matter?” he asked the second we made eye contact.
I shook my head, clearing my throat loudly to dissipate the panic clogging it.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” I croaked out, my voice not yet recovered.
Questions glared at me from his narrowed eyes but I kept shaking my head. This was neither the time nor the place to have a serious discussion, especially one I didn’t even want to have. The waitress made an appearance just then, which distracted Jackson enough to not ask any more real questions. He gave me a “we aren’t through” look, however, which almost made me choke on the water I was guzzling and I had to look away from him quickly.
“Have you decided?” the waitress asked.
Jackson turned to her, giving me a reprieve from his penetrating brown gaze, and shook his head. “We are still waiting on two more,” he said with irritation.
The admiring stare from the blonde woman faded at Jackson’s rudeness and I almost laughed because of how dejected the woman looked. His annoyance was seemingly out of nowhere, unless he was responding to my mood. I was also willing to admit the admiring stares he was receiving from the majority of women in the room were causing a pang of jealousy, and his brusque and dismissiveness towards the waitress made me feel as if he wasn’t reciprocating.
Not that I had a right to be jealous.
“What do you think?” I heard him ask, catching the tail end of whatever it was he was asking me.
I looked up at him, our eyes meeting instantly, and my stomach somersaulted. The intensity in his gaze, at such a benign moment, caught me off guard and I didn’t know how to respond for a minute. Would I ever not be taken aback by the way he looked
at me? We sat there, the question all but forgotten, and held each other’s gaze. My heart was racing and I suddenly wished we weren’t sitting in a crowded restaurant.
“Sorry we’re late,” I heard Nicolette’s voice to my right, breaking my trance.
A hot flush crept up my cheeks as I looked over at her. I needed to get myself together.
“It’s fine,” Jackson said, his voice husky. I could tell he was just as flustered as I was by their sudden intrusion.
Henry and Nicolette slid into the seats across from us and I tried to look anywhere but at Jackson. How was I going to make it through a whole meal at this rate? Something had definitely changed between us, and I wasn’t sure if I was terrified or intrigued, but being here at this restaurant was the last place I wanted to be.
“Nikki wanted to run back to her apartment for a change of clothes first,” Henry said and for once, he appeared sober and not smug. In fact, he was looking at Nicolette endearingly and I couldn’t wait to tell her how happy I was she found someone, even if it was Henry Radcliffe-Rogers.
I looked at Nicolette and mouthed, “Nikki,” raising my eyebrows in question. She rolled her eyes at me and shook her head to tell me to stop. Hiding a laugh behind my hand, I looked down at the menu. I was suddenly starving.
“I like their chicken and waffles,” Jackson said quietly in my ear.
I shivered, though it was a totally nonsexual comment, because the tone of his voice and his breath in my ear was something else entirely. Nodding, not trusting my voice, I set the menu down. My once-ravenous appetite was gone, replaced with a hunger for something else. I’d get whatever he was having because my head was no longer in it.
Across from us, Henry and Nicolette had their heads together, discussing the menu, and another pang of jealousy hit me. Not because Henry was taking my friend away—I was happy for Nicolette—but because Jackson and I weren’t a real couple like they were, and for the first time, I longed for the closeness they seemed to have. But this whole thing was my fault and I had no room for regret.
One Night Page 14