“You’ve been asleep for a while,” Jackson’s gravelly, sleep-riddled voice mumbled from behind me.
“Sorry. I was trying not to wake you,” I said, as I lay back down and turned to him.
Our eyes met, green to brown, and my stomach clenched with desire. I forgot what I was going to say, what I was worried about before my nap, and got lost in Jackson’s gaze. I was very aware we lay inches away from each other in bed.
“I was already awake,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Oh,” I muttered.
“Liza,” Jackson said, his voice deep with lust.
I shook my head, trying to break the spell, because I felt like there were things I needed to say to him, things I needed to ask, before I was too far gone and beneath him again.
“I think we need to talk first,” I whispered, without much conviction.
Jackson propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at me. I could tell he was shirtless and I was almost certain he wasn’t wearing pants. It was going to be hard as hell to resist when I was staring straight at his practically naked body.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked with a wry smile.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. Why was this so difficult?
“Jackson, I’m so confused,” I began, holding out a hand as if to stop something but connecting with his rock-hard chest instead.
Heat from his body spread up my arm and down my body until it reached my core. There was no stopping the electricity when he was this close and this underdressed, and my brain began to scramble in a whole new manner. It had to be because we were in bed and I just woke up, or maybe Jackson really was like a drug and my brain turned to mush when I was too close.
“I promise everything will make more sense when we get to France,” he said.
It took a minute for both of us to register he told me where we were going. His brow creased when he realized it, his eyes darkening, and my mouth opened with shock.
“France?” I croaked, momentarily distracted from my lust induced haze.
“Yeah,” he growled, irritated he let it slip.
“I’ve never been to Europe,” I admitted.
Jackson smiled then, and scooted closer to me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me down on top of him. France forgotten, my body responded to being so close to him in her regular traitorous fashion, heating to the center and dissolving under his touch.
“Enough talking. You distracted me so much I let our destination slip out,” Jackson grumbled before pulling me down to capture my mouth with his.
Moments ago, I was uncertain, unsteady, and hours ago, I was in despair at the state of where we were and what was going on, but now I was lost in Jackson again, free falling faster than my thoughts could keep up. My resolve disintegrated and I couldn’t remember what I wanted to talk to him about as his hands roamed over my body and under my sweater before cupping my ass over top of my lace panties. Here we were again, on the precipice of sex, and everything screamed at me to stop, to make him explain himself, but I couldn’t and, in all honesty, I didn’t want to.
Our kissing intensified, bordering on violent and desperate again, teeth knocking and lips bruising, and I couldn’t get my fill of him. Jackson tore the sweater up over my head, throwing it away, and we were skin to skin, chest to chest, bared to each other. Both panting, he resumed kissing me, his lips traveling down my neck, raking his teeth over my shoulder and the sensitive skin he bit hours earlier. I shivered, remembering the way it felt when he climaxed inside of me with his teeth gripping my shoulder, and my desire to be beneath him ratcheted up several notches.
Getting my wish, Jackson flipped me over, his weight pressing me into the bed. I spread my legs and he settled between them, the bulge of his erection pressing against my overly sensitive clit through the lacy material. I needed to feel him against me, inside of me, and I slipped my hands between us and shimmied out of my underwear. Raising them up, I started to toss them aside but Jackson grabbed my hand.
“I’ll take those,” he said, snatching them from me.
Swiftly, and before it could register what he was doing, he took the scrap of lace, pulled my arms above my head, and wrapped the underwear around my wrists. He pressed my arms back, holding onto both of them with one hand while pulling his boxer briefs off with the other. Settling back between my legs, he pressed his rock-hard cock against my entrance and I moaned, shifting my hips upward to urge him inside.
“Not yet,” he growled, pushing my hips back down to the bed. “Keep your arms up,” he added before letting go.
I nodded and he slid down my body, feathering kisses along the way. From my collarbone to my chest, nipples, stomach, and hips before he stopped at my inner thigh. He pressed my legs further apart, running his hands slowly along my inner thighs before he reached my center.
“My God, Liza, you’re so wet for me,” he said, pushing two fingers inside of me.
I bucked off the bed, crying out at the intrusion I had been waiting for. Jackson pumped his fingers in and out as he leaned down and pressed the flat of his tongue against my clit. Stars burst behind my eyes and I tried to squeeze my legs together from the sensation but Jackson pushed them apart again, anchoring one leg with his arm. He continued the assault on my pussy, slowly, torturously lapping at my clit with his tongue until I was hanging by a thread. For a second, he stopped, pulling back, and I looked down at him with confusion. I was almost there, and with a glint in his eyes, I could tell he knew it.
“Once you come, I won’t be gentle,” he said gruffly. “Get ready.”
I nodded, my heart hammering with anticipation. He dipped his head again, this time fastening his lips right to my clit and sucking. I fell apart, screaming my release as the orgasm tore through my body, struggling to keep my legs wide as he wrung me dry. When I collapsed back against the mattress, Jackson rose up, positioning himself between my thighs again, and pressed the head of his erection against my entrance. He thrust hard and fast until he was deep inside of me and I lifted my hips to meet his.
On instinct, I brought my hands down, wrapping them around his neck even though the underwear still bound them together. Jackson pulled them back, pausing for a minute, before grabbing the underwear with his teeth and tearing them off of my wrists. It stung for a brief moment, the action leaving me with red marks, but then I was free. He resumed his rhythm, rough and fast, panting as he rutted inside of me. I tried to keep up, hiking my legs over his waist, and grabbing onto his neck. Another orgasm was building and I chased it, grinding my hips against his. This time, when we came, it was together, both of us crying out, though his cry was more like a growl. My nails dug into his back and his lips scraped down my neck as he pulled my head back by my hair.
Spent, he fell against my chest, crushing me with his weight though I didn’t mind it. I stroked him back lazily, feeling sated and tired in a whole new way than I felt earlier. Jackson kissed my neck softly as he lay on top of me, over the sensitive area, where his teeth caught me when he came. It was out of character but not unwelcome, and I almost held my breath, waiting for him to close himself off again and storm from the room. But a minute passed of us lying there on the bed, him still inside of me. He made no attempt to run away from me.
After a while, when the drying sweat began to make me shiver, Jackson finally disengaged, turning on his side next to me. I looked up at him and he was staring at me with an unusual look on his face, studying me in a way I never saw him do before.
“What?” I said, feeling awkward under his scrutiny.
Jackson shook his head. “I’m not allowed to look at you?” he asked, his lips turned up in a small smile.
“Not when I don’t know why you’re doing it,” I said.
His mood seemed to have improved and I wondered why, besides the amazing sex, because he suddenly seemed more relaxed.
“We’re going to be landing soon,” he said suddenly, sitting up.
The ch
ange was subtle and if I didn’t know his mood swings, I wouldn’t have caught it, but he was trying to distract me again from getting into his thoughts. He was trying to covertly pull away from me. The surprising part was not that he was doing it, because the same thing happened hours earlier, but the way which he was going about it. I took a deep breath, instilling myself with courage I didn’t really have at the moment, and made the choice to not let him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Jackson whipped his head back to me, catching my eye. He didn’t expect the question and I caught him off guard.
“Getting dressed,” he said with a shrug.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’ve been in and out since we got on the plane this morning, and while I’m used to the Jackson Radcliffe mood swings, today has been quite a roller coaster.” I spit it all out at once, quickly, so as not to lose my nerve.
Jackson looked at me suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. “I told you it was complicated, Liza, and once we land and get to where we are going, you’ll understand better. I can’t tell you anything else. Not yet.”
He hopped up from the bed, running a hand through his disheveled curls, and reached for his jeans. After pulling them on, without bothering with underwear, he stalked towards the bathroom. I jumped up, not caring that I was nude, and chased after him. If he closed the bathroom door in my face, I would lose the momentum of the conversation. He would succeed in shutting me out again.
“Wait, Jackson. You can’t keep doing this to me,” I called after him, as he stepped into the bathroom and grabbed the doorknob to pull it closed.
I put my hand on the door to stop him, which was more symbolic than anything because if he wanted to shut me out, he would have had the strength to do so.
“You are making this so difficult,” he said with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face, his five o’clock shadow of dark stubble rasping against his palm.
“What am I making difficult? I can’t have a relationship with someone who keeps me at arm’s length everywhere but in bed. I told you that last night and I’ll say it again. You asked me to come on this trip with you, and I thought you wanted more than that”—I motioned towards the bed—“and I accepted because I wanted to make it work. But now I’m not so sure I made the right choice.”
I let it all out, every concern and worry I had since stepping foot on the plane early that morning.
“Jesus, Liza. There’s so much more that you don’t know,” he said, looking away for a minute before turning back to me and shaking his head.
“Then tell me. I’m right here, Jackson. I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s so complicated we have to go all the way to France to work it out,” I said, gesturing wildly with my hands.
I was very aware I was still naked and standing before him as he looked at me, heat and confusion in his eyes. I bent to grab my sweater, and pulled it over my head. Taking a chance and risking rejection, I walked towards him. He didn’t close the door in my face and when I reached him, pressing my face against his chest, he wrapped his arms around me. Some of the anxiety I was holding on to for the last week dissipated with that embrace, though we still had so much to work through. We stood there like that for a while before I felt him sigh heavily again. When I looked up at him, his eyes were apologetic but also something had changed. I could tell he was finally going to be honest with me.
I was going to tell her. I was going to tell her everything. Liza poured her heart out to me, and after I heard the sobs she tried to hide in the shower earlier, I wasn’t sure I could put her through much more. She was right; I asked her to come with me so we could try to make this work, but that wasn’t the only reason. I needed her to come with me so I could dissolve my marriage to Natalie. I needed her to continue with another farce so I could finally be rid of the vile woman who had the audacity to still call herself my wife.
How was I going to tell her that without scaring her away? How was I going to tell her that even though I had to use her to get out of a bad marriage, I really wanted to be with her? And if she only knew the things Natalie accused me of, if she knew the real reason Natalie left me but refused to sign divorce papers, I wasn’t sure Liza would want to be with me for real anyway.
“If I tell you,” I finally croaked out, my throat suddenly dry, “you have to promise me you won’t take off as soon as we get to France.”
Liza looked up at me, her jade green eyes wide. She was nervous, I could see it plain as day on her face. But Liza wasn’t like me—she was easy to read. I could see the wheels turning in her head, the war going on behind her eyes. She wanted to trust me, to believe me, but I gave her very little reason to up till now. I was a heartless bastard when it came to everything, and I didn’t deserve Liza’s trust or understanding, but she was mine and I couldn’t let her just walk away from us, not now. Not when she was the only person I felt I could be myself with.
“Please, Liza. It’s the only way I’ll tell you,” I begged her, which wasn’t my style. But, until now, I had nothing to lose and never had the need to beg before.
“Okay, Jackson,” she finally said. “Let me get dressed first.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and let go of her. Striding back into the bedroom, I knew I only had a limited amount of time before the captain announced our descent, and I wanted to get everything out in the open before we had to strap into a seat to land. Liza followed me back into the room, rummaging in her bag for another pair of underwear, since I destroyed her last pair. My dick stirred as the memory of our most recent encounter filled my mind, but now was not the time for that and I had to focus. As Liza dressed, I paced, waiting until she was ready before I began. I was still shirtless, unable to concentrate on anything else until it was all out in the open.
“Is this about Natalie?” Liza finally asked, after she was fully clothed and seated cross-legged on the bed.
“Some of it’s about Natalie,” I began. My fists hung at my side, clenched so hard I worried I’d break the skin on my knuckles.
Liza watched me, worrying her hands together in her lap. I could tell she wanted to push me, to force me to spit it all out quickly, but she didn’t and I appreciated her patience for the time being.
“But, Natalie isn’t everything, not really.” I took a deep breath. Baring myself to someone in this way was not something I was used to, and the urge to shut down and keep her out of my head was trying to take over. “The reason we’re still married is because of the prenup we signed before we married. I was young, and stupid, and thought my aunt and Natalie’s father knew what they were talking about. I thought divorce wasn’t an option, so I let Natalie and her father decide what to put in the prenup. It was the biggest fucking mistake of my life.”
Liza followed me with her eyes as I paced the room, pausing for a minute to collect my thoughts. Ranting about Natalie and her crook of a father wasn’t going to help in this situation, so I tried to regroup.
“The prenup states that if for any reason we were to be separated, I have to support Natalie financially until the time when she is set to remarry, or I become engaged to another person.” I started off slowly, easing her into the explanation. “But—and this part is the most fucked-up part of the whole thing, and I can’t believe I didn’t let my lawyer change it when we first looked over the documents—we have to remain married until one of those instances happens.”
Liza furrowed her brow for a minute, taking in all of the information and processing it. I waited for her to put the pieces of the puzzle together, to come to the conclusion before I had to tell her in words that I told Natalie and her lawyer she and I were engaged. But the realization never came and she looked at me with confusion.
“I don’t understand.” She stood up, crossing the room to meet me where I’d stopped by a window. “What does any of this have to do with this trip to France?”
Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back, my face to the ceiling. It was almost phy
sically painful how much I was trying to keep my cool and not storm from the room to avoid telling her any more. I was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them.
“The reason we’re going to France, the reason for all of this”—I made a wide sweeping motion with my hands—“is because we are going to get married.”
Liza cocked her head to the side, squinting her eyes. Then she took a step back, holding her hands up in front of herself as if to tell me to stop.
“What? No, what?” She stuttered the words out as she shook her head vigorously from side to side.
I nodded, unable to meet her eyes, because I felt like I trapped her, like I was using her. I had to say something else, something to convince her it would all work out in the end, that she wasn’t being tricked for selfish purposes. She moved further away from me, plopping onto the bed, before bouncing right back up again and heading towards the door.
“Wait, Liza, let me explain everything.” I started towards her as she grabbed the doorknob. If she walked out of the room, I’d lose her until after we landed and she would run, I knew she would.
“Jackson, I don’t understand. None of this makes sense. I’ve technically only known you for all of ten days. We can’t get married.” She was still shaking her head and holding onto the doorknob.
“I know, it’s crazy, but you have to understand that I have my reasons, and we need to see this through…”
She held up a hand, cutting me off, and I stifled a growl of frustration. “That’s what this has all been for? The press, the benefit, everything? You’ve been using me from the start, to get out of a bad marriage?” She connected the dots in a way I hoped she wouldn’t.
“No, Liza, that’s not what this is. Trust me, you have to trust me,” I said, suddenly feeling desperate to explain.
Liza shook her head again. “No, I get it now. The original lies, keeping me at arm’s length, all of it was so you could protect yourself until we got to the end of your plan. Was anything you said to me before true?”
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