“Why?” I asked, as I scooted from his lap and adjusted my skirt for the second time.
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t that how it’s been for us since the beginning?” I asked because it was the truth.
“This time, it’s different,” he said cryptically.
What was he hiding from me this time? “Is this mystery thing the reason I haven’t heard from you all week?”
I was done with the games. If he was going to hurt me and cut and run, I’d rather get it over with now.
“Liza, I really don’t want to get into—”
“No, tell me, or I’m gone. I’m tired of the games,” I snapped.
“You’ll run again. Let me sort it out first,” he said. Though I didn’t know Jackson well, I understood one thing—he was a fixer.
“Try me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
Jackson sighed again. “Natalie and I, we’re still married.” He blurted out what I feared all along.
I sat there for a minute, absorbing the information, but also realizing I knew all along that was what he was going to tell me.
“Okay.” I wasn’t able to think of anything else to say.
“There’s more to it, but I don’t want to get you involved in the drama,” he said. I could tell it took a lot from him to tell me even this little bit of the situation.
Jackson looked at me and I sat there, thinking, but at a loss. He was clearly waiting for me to respond and I wasn’t sure how I should proceed. I had all but admitted to myself I wanted to be with him, but at what cost? I wasn’t used to a life filled with drama and it was all starting to wear on me. The best solution was probably for me to step back while he figured his shit out. The past week of waiting around for him to contact me while I tried to get on with my life ran through my head. I felt like hell the whole time, wondering and waiting. Did I really want to do that again?
“Jackson, I don’t know if I can do this, if I can wait around…” I began honestly, my throat clogging with tears I didn’t want to shed.
He watched me again, not responding, and it was my turn to wait for an answer. When he met my eyes finally, his deep brown gaze was filled with a look I didn’t expect—hope.
“Come away with me for the weekend,” he said suddenly.
The complete one-eighty of the conversation caught me off guard for a minute. I just told him I couldn’t wait around for him to sort out this whole ex-wife situation, and he asked me to go away with him. Was he for real?
“Jackson, I don’t think…”
“Don’t think, Liza. Just say yes.” He searched my face for an answer.
“Okay,” I responded, surprising myself.
What the hell was I doing?
I began to question my own sanity as the words left my mouth. My plan had been to let her go, to take her home and walk away, because I was tired of the lies and the manipulations, and if I was honest with her, she would walk away from me anyway. But, instead, I asked her to go away with me for the long, holiday weekend. What the hell was wrong with me? All week, I thought it over, even taking advice from Henry, which was desperate, considering he was worse with relationships than I was, and the only conclusion I could come to was I had to let Liza go. That whole scheme I cooked up and told my lawyer about was a mess and would backfire in a major way. Yet, here I was, going through with it.
“Where are we going?” she asked as I told Monroe to take us back to her apartment.
“You’ll find out tomorrow morning,” I said as I settled back in the seat.
A look of panic crossed her face. “Wait, I left Nicolette in the club.”
“Henry will take care of her,” I said because as much of an ass as my cousin could be, I could tell he was falling for that woman the way I was falling for this one.
“Are you sure? Maybe we should go back?” She looked out the window as the next block flew by.
“I’ll call him to make sure he doesn’t leave without her,” I said to placate her.
Once that was taken care of and Liza relaxed against the seat, I sat back as well, my mind racing.
“I’ll drop you off at your apartment so you can pack, and pick you up tomorrow morning at eight,” I said, scooting a bit closer to the window so I wouldn’t touch her again and fuck it all up. “Pack warm clothing.”
Liza opened her mouth to speak, but Monroe stopped at the curb and she closed it again. We stared at each other for a minute and it took everything I had inside of me not to reach for her again. I had to rein it in or I’d scare her away.
“Do you want to come up?” she practically whispered. Apparently, her mind was wandering to the same place as mine.
“I have a lot to arrange for our travel plans tomorrow,” I said, by way of an excuse.
Her face fell but she didn’t argue. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodbye, Liza,” I said, briefly touching her arm as she slid towards the open door.
“Bye, Jackson,” she answered, her eyes lingering for a beat where my hand laid on her forearm.
The urge to pull her into another blistering kiss was there but I let it go, tamping down my lust for another day.
With a slight nod of her head, as if she understood, Liza slipped from the car and Monroe closed the door behind her.
* * *
“I need the jet fueled and ready to go by nine a.m.,” I barked at the person from the airport who had the misfortune of being the one to take my call.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Radcliffe. We are so sorry for the inconvenience,” the woman stammered.
I felt like an ass, but the whole weekend with Liza was riding on getting a flight out this morning. It was my fault it was last-minute, but what was the point in having money if you couldn’t even use it to get what you wanted?
“Don’t be sorry, just get it done.” I ended the call abruptly before storming out of my office, slamming the door behind me.
I was irrationally annoyed this morning, as if the lie Liza didn’t even know about was eating me alive. My brain was screaming at me to tell her, but my gut knew she would never trust me again.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath before grabbing my luggage from where I left it in the living room.
I was out of time. I told Liza I would pick her up at eight, and I had to leave in five minutes to make it there on time. Yanking the door open, I dragged my luggage towards the elevators. Monroe was waiting with the car when I got downstairs and I passed him my luggage before hopping into the back of the car.
By the time we reached Liza’s apartment, I was wound tighter than a toy car and ready to explode. I was afraid the moment I saw her, I would blurt everything out and despite my attempts to be on time, I needed an extra five minutes in the car before going up to get her.
“Sir, is everything all right?” Monroe asked when I didn’t exit the car.
“I’m fine, Monroe. I need a few minutes.” I closed the partition between us and leaned back against the leather seats.
He exited the driver’s side and stood by the passenger door, waiting for me to give the go-ahead to open it. Monroe and I kept our relationship business, but he knew me almost as well as my family and I trusted him with my life.
After taking a final deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped out. I thought for sure Liza would have come downstairs already since I was late, but I was glad she hadn’t. I didn’t need any more questions because I was treading on thin ice as it was. Making my way to Liza’s apartment, I stopped to greet her doorman before heading up to her floor. I raised my hand to knock but the door opened before I could.
“Hey,” Liza said.
She looked stunning in a pair of skinny jeans, an oversized sweater tucked in the front of her waistband, and a pair of black combat boots. Her fiery red hair was loose, framing her face with a halo of curls, and when she smiled at me, it took my breath away for a moment. Would I never stop reacting
this way when I saw her? It was like the flames of my affection and desire for her were only stoked more every day we were together.
“Are you ready?” The foul mood I was carrying around since I woke up sloughed off in her presence, almost as if seeing her was the remedy to my malaise.
“Yup. My suitcase is all packed with the warmest clothing I have. Hopefully, we aren’t going to the Caribbean.” She laughed at her joke and I couldn’t help but smile in response. “Where are we going?” She lowered her voice and leaned in to ask, like it was a secret.
I pantomimed locking my lips with a key. “You won’t find out until we land.”
She grunted with displeasure before reaching for her suitcase handle and wheeling it into the hall behind her. I was still standing in the doorway, watching her, unable to move for a minute. Once we left, there was no going back and I wasn’t in any hurry for the whole ordeal to blow up in my face.
“Coming?” she asked, reaching her hand out to me.
“Of course,” I responded, taking her hand in mine. This was it. When Liza and I came back from this trip, we would be husband and wife.
From the time he came to my door, Jackson was acting strangely. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was off. He was his same broody and bossy self, but something else lurked just underneath that I couldn’t put my finger on.
“Where are we going? Should I have brought my passport?” I asked him for the third time as we made our way to JFK Airport.
Jackson shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” was his only response.
“Don’t worry about it? It would be nice to know if I was leaving the country,” I said with exasperation.
He snorted, before picking up his phone and becoming engrossed in something on the screen. For most of the ride so far, he was disconnected, asking a few questions, and answering me with one or two words, but not engaging. It didn’t bode well for a romantic trip but nothing with Jackson so far was normal, and I took his whole mood with a grain of salt. He wouldn’t have asked me to go away with him if he didn’t mean it, right?
The time for second-guessing was over because we pulled into a private plane hangar within the next minute and a half, and the car stopped. Jackson hopped out of the car without waiting for Monroe to open the door. His mood swings were starting to wear on me, and I sighed as Monroe opened my door and helped me from the car.
“Where are we going?” I whispered to Monroe.
He shrugged his shoulders and gave me a stern look. I shrugged back. “It was worth a shot,” I said, before walking away to catch up with Jackson.
“Give them the bags,” Jackson ordered Monroe as he pointed to the crew waiting outside of the plane.
Monroe nodded and wheeled our luggage away. Once he was out of earshot, Jackson moved closer to me and leaned down.
“I heard you asking Monroe for details but I gave him strict orders not to tell you,” he whispered in my ear, the tone and closeness giving me a chill. “And stop asking, or I’ll blindfold you and tie you up on the plane to keep you from finding out.”
I gasped and took a step back because something about the way he said it was erotic, and my body heated at the idea. When I looked at Jackson again, he was smirking. Despite the smirk, I could see something else smoldering in his eyes. I wondered what he was hiding from me and when I would find out. The worst part—I wondered if what he wasn’t telling me would destroy us. It didn’t make any sense why I felt that way, but doubt was creeping back in.
We ascended the stairway to the plane, my stomach fluttering as I focused on the back of Jackson’s broad shoulders and tousled curls. Once I was on the plane, there was no going back and the riot of butterflies sped up deep in my gut. He motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs, but I was so mesmerized by the interior, I couldn’t move for a minute. This was my first time on a private plane, and I hadn’t expected it to be so extravagant, though I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. The interior was cream-colored, all of the seating, the bucket seats and couches, the same hue of leather. I wanted to run my hands over it because the visual made it appear to be as soft as butter.
“Are you going to sit so we can take off?” Jackson asked, and I snapped out of my reverie.
I nodded. “The plane is amazing,” I said as I made my way to one of the bucket seats.
Jackson smirked again. “Thanks, I try,” he said. Sometimes he was such a smartass.
“You know what I meant,” I snapped, my nerves making me irritable. I forgot to mention how much I hated flying.
He cocked an eyebrow at me but didn’t respond, all the playfulness that was on his face a moment ago, gone. The introspection was back and I could tell by the look in his eyes he had disappeared into his thoughts again, his mood swinging back again to brooding, like a pendulum.
We buckled our seatbelts, sitting side by side in the chairs, but looking straight ahead. Neither of us spoke as the captain went over the flight information, conveniently leaving out our destination, before taking off. I closed my eyes, my hands gripping the armrests so hard my knuckles were white. Takeoff and landing were the two worst parts for me, and no matter how much I tried to talk myself down from the anxiety, I never could open my eyes until we were cruising in the air. I felt Jackson’s hand on top of mine and, surprisingly, my heart rate slowed a bit and I was able to open my eyes.
“You didn’t tell me you were scared of flying,” he said, in a way that almost sounded like he was scolding me.
“You never asked. This trip was really last-minute and I was afraid if I told you about it, you would change your mind,” I said. There was no use hiding it now.
“Why are you always keeping things from me?” he snapped. His eyes were dark with irritation and something else. Anxiety? That didn’t make sense and the emotion was gone just as quickly as I detected it.
“Oh that’s rich. You’re really one to talk about keeping things from people.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Arguing right now wasn’t going to solve anything. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you would be this upset about it.” That was also the truth.
Jackson ran a hand through his hair and over his face before turning away from me. Something was definitely bothering him and it wasn’t only about me being afraid to fly. The secrets and the lies and the things unsaid scared me about Jackson. He had no basis for trust or letting other people in, I could see that even though we were still getting to know one another. It scared me because I was never sure what I should believe or how much I should trust him. How could I even consider a relationship with someone who wasn’t going to be completely honest with me, when I was doing my best to be an open book?
“Jackson,” I said, a short while later, my throat tight. We hadn’t been in the air long and were already at odds.
He whipped his head around to look at me, his eyes blazing again, but this time, I recognized it all too well. It was the same look he gave me the night before in the limo, the one I backed away from. But today, I didn’t want to back away. Being close to him, feeling his warm body pressed against mine and his brutal kisses, were something I needed to calm the raging nerves in my belly. It was the only way. Since the pilot turned off the seatbelt light minutes before, I unclipped mine, standing up with care because there was a bit of turbulence, and walked towards him.
“What are you doing?” Despite the fire in his eyes, I could tell he was trying to stay away from me right now and I wasn’t sure why.
“I know one way to make myself feel better about flying,” I said to him, my voice smooth and seductive in a way I didn’t even know it could be.
Jackson swallowed hard, tightening his fists where they rested on the armrests, and closed his eyes for a second. “Liza, I don’t think…”
I shook my head. “No, we aren’t thinking right now because apparently, that’s all you seem to be doing at the moment. We aren’t thinking, we’re feeling.”
As I approached him, he clenched and unclenched his
fists several times as if he were trying to keep himself from reaching for me. But I didn’t back down. I wasn’t afraid of Jackson Radcliffe, no matter his grumbling and brooding. Slowly, and with careful deliberation, I straddled his lap, pressing my hips against the hard bulge in the front of his pants. He closed his eyes again, still not moving his arms where they gripped the armrests so hard, I thought he would break them, and moaned.
“Liza,” he growled, but I didn’t stop.
I ground my hips against his, dry humping him until the friction of the jeans against my clit threatened to make me explode. Still, he didn’t reach for me but kept his death grip on the armrests while he sat as still as he could, his eyes closed.
“I need you to touch me,” I whispered, my mouth inches from his ear.
Jackson shivered but still, he resisted me. I wasn’t sure what game he was playing but I was becoming frustrated.
“I need to feel you on top of me,” I said, my mouth closer still and followed it with a swipe of my tongue to his earlobe.
“Not here,” Jackson growled through clenched teeth.
“Why?” I asked him, not stopping my torturous grinding though it was driving me crazy.
He finally opened his eyes, locking them with mine, and I was lost for a minute in his dark brown gaze. Jackson was beautiful and when he was aroused, he was like a feral animal. His wildness turned me on more than anything and I was waiting impatiently for him to give in.
“Because it’s not the time,” he bit back, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Why?” I asked him again, toying with him even more.
I thought he was going to push me away, the way he did the night before in the limo, but to my surprise, he let out a wild growl and gripped me by the waist. He lifted me up and off of his lap, propelling the both of us to the leather sofa seat where he pressed me into the soft cushions, his body covering mine.
One Night Page 18