Jackson and I, we would never make it as a real couple. Not with our turbulent histories and the intensity with which we responded to one another. We would implode and I had no right to be jealous or long for things that weren’t in the cards for us. Yes, I was finally willing to admit I had feelings for Jackson, feelings I never thought I would have for anyone, but that didn’t mean we would live happily ever after.
“Ready?” The perky waitress was back, a smile firmly planted on her pretty face.
This time, Jackson and Henry smiled back at her and Nicolette and I exchanged looks of disgust. It was amazing to me the swing of my emotions today. Henry ordered for both he and Nicolette and the waitress turned to Jackson.
“And what would you like, Mr. Radcliffe?” she asked him, quite aware of who he was.
With a smile, which for the first time I realized was tight and not genuine, Jackson ordered the chicken and waffles before turning to me so I could order.
“I’ll have the same thing,” I said, passing the girl my menu.
She nodded at both of us before turning to walk away, her eyes never leaving Jackson. I sighed. The next month of watching him ogle women was going to wear me down quickly.
Henry and Jackson made small talk about their company while we waited for the food, and Nicolette and I chatted about work, the coming holiday season, and shopping because neither of us could talk about what we really wanted to in front of the men. Once the food arrived, we ate in silence for a while, and I had to admit Jackson was right about the meal choice. The waffle was as big as my head and the chicken was just crispy enough.
When we had all slowed down with our food, Henry looked up at Jackson and me across the table, and I could tell I wasn’t going to like what came out of his mouth next. He had a smirk planted on his handsome face, his eyes darting between us.
“So, Liza, Mother seems to really favor you,” he said, and I relaxed little because of all the things he could have said, that was likely the tamest.
“I like her too. She’s quite the businesswoman,” I responded with a smile because Beatrice Radcliffe-Rogers had struck me as just that.
“Ah, yes. She loves her company, that’s for sure.” Henry took a swig of his drink. It was then I realized it was a Bloody Mary and he had been drinking this whole time. Drunk and abrasive Henry was back.
Nicolette met my eyes, her face changing, and I could tell she didn’t like it when he drank.
“This is neither the time nor the place for your antics, Harry,” Jackson hissed at Henry through gritted teeth.
Henry waved a hand at him dismissively and I knew it was only going to get worse. It was obvious Henry had a drinking problem that needed to be addressed.
“Don’t you dare defend her, cousin,” Henry barked at Jackson, loudly enough that a few people from surrounding tables turned to look at the spectacle.
“I’m serious, Harry, keep it down,” Jackson snapped at him, grabbing his arm as discreetly as possible across the table and pulling him closer so he could talk to him quietly. “Remember what happened last time and who we have with us,” he added, his eyes moving to Nicolette and me.
All of the fight seemed to leave Henry as he turned to look at Nicolette, whose face was ashen and was on the verge of tears. With a sigh, he gathered her in his arms and murmured something in her ear. I looked away awkwardly, my eyes meeting Jackson’s. There was an apology there but I shook my head to tell him it wasn’t necessary.
“I think it’s time to go,” he said quietly and I agreed with a slight nod. He turned his attention back to his cousin across the table. “You and Nicolette can take off, I’ve got this,” he said curtly.
Henry nodded with contempt, but also regret, clouding his eyes. They both stood, and Nicolette looked at me.
“I’ll call you later,” I said to her because I could tell she needed me to reassure her.
With a swift goodbye, they both walked out of the restaurant. My shoulders sagged with relief and the knot that had formed in my stomach released. If I was that tense from Henry’s display, I couldn’t imagine how Nicolette felt. After they walked out, Jackson stood, reaching into his pocket, and walked away towards the area the waitress had disappeared. I assumed he was going to pay the check, so I stood and shrugged into my coat.
A minute later, Jackson reappeared, the waitress in tow, and he was telling her something. She smiled broadly, touching his arm gently as they approached. The pang was back, but instead of giving away more than I should, I looked down, gathering my phone and purse to pretend I didn’t see the exchange.
“Thank you, Melanie,” Jackson said as he handed the girl a fifty-dollar bill.
Melanie’s face glowed crimson and she nodded demurely, the smile on her face never leaving. The display was too much for me and because I wanted to maintain some of my dignity, I had to leave the room.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom before we go,” I said to Jackson, and he raised an eyebrow at me because of the formality of my words.
I didn’t give him a chance to respond but walked away speedily towards where I figured the bathrooms were located. My mind kept flashing to the megawatt smile he gave the waitress as I made my way into the one-stall bathroom.
Melanie.
I had no right to be jealous or feel like he was slighting me in any way.
He’s not really mine, I thought, though I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
Jackson didn’t strike me as the type of guy to flaunt his celebrity and bask in the attention of women, so I wasn’t sure what all of the show with Melanie was about. I was even more disappointed in my reaction to it and resisted the urge to splash cold water on my face, instead opting to wash my hands and take a few deep breaths. A bang on the bathroom door startled me and I jumped.
“I know you’re in there, Liza,” Jackson said loudly from the other side.
I groaned, remembering how he burst into the bathroom the night before. If I didn’t want a repeat, I would have to go out and face him. Taking another deep breath, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and gave myself a curt nod before turning and walking from the bathroom. Jackson was standing directly outside the door, in the small hallway, alone and with a menacing look on his face.
“Why are you always running from me?” It was phrased as a question but said like a statement. His voice was a deep growl that made my stomach stir despite my best efforts to maintain my composure.
I didn’t deny his words, because I was running away. Not because I wanted to get away from him, but because I had to protect myself.
“It’s complicated,” I answered, trying to move around him to leave the restaurant.
“You’re doing it again,” he said, grabbing my arm to stop me. This time, his voice was quieter, more intimate, and a chill went down my back as to what that implied.
“I can’t do this here,” I said to him, tears clogging my throat. All of the emotions I had been pushing down since this morning were bubbling to the surface at the worst time possible.
“What can’t you do?” he asked, moving his body close to mine.
Before I knew what was happening, my back was against the wall and he was flush against the front of me. My heart rate skyrocketed with the nearness of him and all rational thought was lost again.
“Jackson,” I whispered, my hand on his chest.
“What did I tell you about saying my name like that?” he asked.
But I didn’t have a chance to respond, because his mouth was on mine. All of the protesting and angst of the last few hours disappeared as his tongue pushed between my lips, hot and wet and inviting. I forgot we were in the hallway of a restaurant bathroom, forgot about the jealousy and the fake relationship, and the drama of the last two days. There was no room for any of that in this tiny hallway, between us. There was only Jackson and me, wrapped up in each other, gasping for air and struggling for purchase against each other’s body. Desperation and uncertainty made me grip him
harder, my hands digging into his shirt at his chest, as his hands slid up my sweater and cupped my breasts, tweaking my nipples through my bra.
There was no decency in this hallway as I hiked my leg up over his hip, feeling the bulge of him through his jeans at the apex of my thighs. I wanted him and I didn’t care that we could be discovered at any moment. This was dangerous and wrong, but felt anything but. I was having an out-of-body experience, one I didn’t want to come back from.
A gasp at the end of the hall snapped me from the undercurrent of sensation just as quickly as I was pulled under and I dropped my leg back to the floor, my heeled boots clicking loudly against the tile. Jackson’s large frame was blocking me from seeing who it was that found us and I was glad. Unclenching my fingers from the death grip I had on his shirt, I smoothed it back into place before adjusting my own sweater as best I could with his hands still underneath and on my hips. I looked up at him and instead of staring at the person who discovered us practically fucking in a restaurant hallway, Jackson was staring at me, his brown eyes so dark with lust they were practically black.
“What are we doing?” I whispered at him, rhetorically. My voice sounded hoarse and sultry and I didn’t recognize it.
A smirk lit his sexy mouth, which still held a trace of pink from my lipstick, and I smiled despite the situation.
“We’re getting the fuck out of here,” he said before removing his hands from my waist.
Jackson bent down and grabbed my coat from where I had discarded it on the floor and held it open so I could slip into it. It was then I realized the person who caught us was the very waitress I was jealous of several minutes before. I searched for the emotion I felt before our make out session and I couldn’t find it anymore. Why was I jealous of a skinny waitress again? It didn’t register because Jackson had replaced my insecurities and doubts with passion. I smiled at her as Jackson grabbed my hand, and we slid past her through the tiny entrance, out into the restaurant. The shock of finding us dry humping in the hall must not have worn off because she didn’t even turn to see us go. Once we made it outside, I let out a deep breath I had been holding and stopped on the sidewalk, turning to Jackson.
“You’re going to get me in trouble one of these days,” I said, because his impulsiveness was the reason I was in this mess in the first place.
Jackson chuckled. “Did you see her face? It’s a good thing I left a huge tip.”
We stood there a moment before his car pulled to the curb, wiping tears from our eyes as we laughed at our own expense. It was amazing to me how quickly we went from ripping each other’s clothes off to laughing, and I grew serious again because it hit me that we were not only lusting for one another but also building a friendship. My stomach clenched at the implications but I pushed aside the thought as I followed Jackson into the back of the awaiting car. I felt raw and bare again when, moments ago, I was laughing hysterically. Never before had my emotions been so erratic.
“Where’d you go?” Jackson suddenly asked me, and I realized I was staring down at my clenched hands in my lap, deep in thought.
I shook my head. “It’s been quite a day and it’s only the afternoon,” I said, forcing a smile. But Jackson saw right through me.
His hand shot out to grab mine, covering my left hand with his and pulling it to his chest. I looked up at his eyes, the deep chocolate gaze making me feel naked and split in two. How he could undress me with one stare and disarm me all at the same time, I’d never know, and the urge to look away was pressing. He must have sensed it because he put his other hand under my chin, holding my head up so I couldn’t turn away from him.
“I don’t know what this is, Liza and before today, I didn’t even want to explore it. But something changed and I know you felt it too. I’ll admit I don’t have the best record with women, but don’t we owe it to ourselves to see if this is real?”
I wasn’t prepared for his honesty and my throat clenched as he spoke. Clearing it, I answered him. “But, this wasn’t supposed to be real.”
My argument was weak and I knew it. Why I was arguing at all, I didn’t know.
“Does that mean we shouldn’t let it become real?” he asked me, his voice so low I had to lean in to hear him.
“Jackson,” I said quietly because I didn’t know what else to say.
This was too soon, too quick, and the feelings that were stirring inside of me were threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice. I wanted it, what he was talking about, what he was offering, but I was terrified because never in my adult life had I felt this way about another person. I saw from my own parents what making mistakes in love can do to people. Was I willing to risk all of myself for something that felt good right now?
He held a finger up to my lips to tell me not to say anything. Even if I could speak, I didn’t think I would have anyway. “Don’t answer me right now. Let’s get through this month before we talk about it anymore.”
A pained look crossed his face, and I wondered if he was second-guessing what he just declared.
With a silent nod, I agreed before turning away from him to stare out the window. But he wasn’t letting me close myself off from him that easily, not this time, and with an effortless motion, he lifted me onto his lap, facing him.
“Jackson,” I said again, this time with desire instead of confusion because as I straddled him, I could feel the bulge of him against my center.
“Fuck,” he growled before capturing my mouth again.
It was as if we had never stopped back in the restaurant, picking up with the same need and passion we had in that hallway, except without the added taboo of being in a public place. I was a desperate woman, ripping at his shirt to feel his skin against my hands, yanking at his head to pull his mouth to mine, deepening the kiss.
It was like he flipped a switch in me when he sat me on his lap, and I couldn’t turn it off. Every time I kissed him, the longing for him grew and doubled instead of waning, the way I experienced in the past with other men. Somehow, touching Jackson, kissing him and being near him, made me want him even more than the previous time, and that was possibly the scariest part of the whole affair.
Jackson pulled back from me for a minute and I groaned with the loss of contact and tried to reengage him. But he held me off with his arm, the rejection stinging before I realized what he was trying to do. He leaned forward, pressing the intercom for Monroe before barking out an order.
“Take us to my place,” he said, his teeth gritted because I was exploring his body with my hands, settling them in his lap on top of his erection, which I massaged through his pants.
With a growl, he flipped me and pinned me to the seat, his body on top of mine, and he settled between my legs. “I wanted to wait until we got back to my apartment, but you aren’t really making it easy for me.”
I wanted to wait too but wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand being this close to him, touching him while he touched me, without needing him inside of me. We had done it before this way, and we could always do it again once we reached his apartment. But right now, I needed him to fill me.
“Then don’t wait,” I said, and the look in his eyes was all the answer I needed.
Yanking my skinny jeans down around my ankles, my panties following swiftly after, Jackson settled himself between my legs again, fumbling with his belt buckle and zipper. I heard a condom wrapper rip and didn’t question where it came from. I was too far gone to even care.
“I’m not going to be gentle or take my time,” he said, searching my face for confirmation.
“I don’t want you to be. Just fuck me,” I said. I didn’t even recognize myself right now and I didn’t care. This was exactly what I wanted and I was tired of pretending it wasn’t.
Jackson’s fingers found my entrance, where I was already dripping wet and waiting for him. He smeared the moisture around to my clit, flicking it with his thumb in such a way that caused me to arch into him. The sensation was electric and I wanted to pull
away just as much as I wanted to press my body even more into his fingers. I was on the verge of climax already as he pushed two fingers inside of me, stretching me as he found my G-spot.
I moaned, not caring if the driver could hear us or not. There was only Jackson and me. Just as I was on the precipice, he pulled his fingers out, gripping his dick and pressing it against my entrance. With one swift thrust, he entered me and I cried out, gripping his ass. Two or three more thrusts like that and I would unravel. He pulled back, almost all the way out, before thrusting into me hard again. I panted, digging my nails into his ass. He repeated the thrusts, hard and quick, and though I knew I would be sore later, I didn’t want him to stop because it felt glorious. My orgasm built, climbing higher and higher with each thrust. Jackson sped up, sweat forming on his forehead as he bit his lip. I could tell he was holding back, and I didn’t want him to because I knew the moment he let go, I would come.
“Harder,” I grunted between clenched teeth. “Fuck me harder.”
With an animalistic growl, Jackson listened to me, lifting my ass off the seat to bring me closer to him. The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, fast and strong, pulling me under and stealing all of the breath from my lungs for a moment before I resurfaced. I cried out again, clutching onto his biceps as he plunged deeper and harder into me while I fell apart around him.
Seconds later, Jackson followed behind me, his teeth raking over my neck as he came. His full weight covered me, pushing me down into the seat as he crumpled over me, spent. Pushing himself up, he looked down at me, cupping my cheek with one hand.
“You destroy me, Liza Deveroux,” he said softly before kissing me gently.
His tenderness after a quick and hard fuck surprised me, and I couldn’t ignore the emotion that was blooming in my chest. The declaration he made after we left the restaurant rang in my head again, and I had a hard time denying just how much I wanted the things he said to be true.
One Night Page 15