He plants a soft kiss above my navel then works his way up until he’s back at my lips. “This isn’t the reason I invited you here tonight,” he murmurs, moving the hair from my eyes so he can look at me. “You know that, right?” The flecks of green in his eyes are bright against the blue.
“I know,” I say, pulling him to me.
He kisses the spot beneath my ear, sending flames through my entire body. I squirm beneath him, because I want to be closer.
He stills. “I don’t want to mess things up with you.”
I roll, moving so I’m on top and straddling him. “You aren’t.” I lean down and catch his bottom lip between my teeth. He lets out a low, sexy moan.
I reach down and flick the button of his jeans open. Then I tug the zipper down, and every single part of me gets frantic. The desire coiling in my core is making my entire body hot. I push them down over his waist and to his knees. He kicks them off the rest of the way and they fall from the bed.
Instinctively he reaches for his bedside table, but his hand freezes in midair. Then he closes his eyes, his expression morphing into one of pain. Actual pain, like he just got punched in the gut. Hard.
“What?” I sit up straighter and try to calm my ragged breathing. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head in slow disbelief. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“What do you mean you don’t have any condoms?” I echo, throwing myself off him.
He shakes his head again. “I got new furniture.”
“Why does this keep happening with you?” I groan. “I’m beginning to think it’s on purpose.”
He shifts onto his side and faces me. “This isn’t on purpose. I want this.” He glances down with a sheepish laugh. “Obviously. But tonight just isn’t the night.” He bends and runs his nose along my shoulder. “I need a cold shower.”
I exhale loudly. “Tell me about it.”
“We could do something else if you want. I mean without, you know...”
My stomach bottoms out from nerves. I want to touch him, be with him. But I’m not sure I’m ready for that; I want all or nothing. I laugh a little. “I think I’d better just go to sleep.”
He grins and rolls from the bed. “Your loss.” He walks across the room and into the closet. When he returns he tosses a cotton T-shirt onto the bed. “You can sleep in this.” Then he leaves me and enters the bathroom. Moments later the shower comes to life.
I slip the shirt over my head and decide to let Taylor know I won’t be home tonight so she won’t worry. I find my cell phone in the kitchen and power the screen to life. I open a new message and type her a quick text.
My cell phone jingles with a response seconds later.
I hope you DTR’d.
Chapter Eleven
My eyes feather open and I blink a few times to bring my surroundings in focus. My heart flutters when I realize I’ve spent the entire night with Jackson, wrapped in his arms and warmth.
He stirs beside me. “You awake?” he murmurs, reaching across the bed to rub my back.
I turn to him and smile. He’s lying on his side, head casually propped up with his hand. His hair is tousled and messy, absolutely adorable. And his sleepy blue-green eyes. Sweet Jesus.
I let my eyes close again. “That feels good.”
His hand slips beneath the shirt and he touches my bare skin. I take a deep, content breath, completely satisfied with this small display of affection. His sheets smell like him, subtle and earthy. I love it, maybe more than I love the smell of anything else.
His fingertips trail up the line of my spine. “I could get used to waking up like this.”
I open my eyes and grin. “Me too.”
After a minute, he slides his hand away and asks, “Maybe we could grab some coffee this morning?”
“I don’t know about that. I probably look like a mess. And I don’t even have a toothbrush.” My hand flies to cover my mouth impulsively.
He tugs my hand away and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “You’re perfect. And you can use mine.”
He rolls out of bed and stretches before sauntering into the bathroom. I watch until he’s out of sight then I close my eyes and let myself drift back to sleep for a couple of minutes more.
* * *
Jackson is watching me from across the elevator, a playful smile tugging at his lips as we ride down. “You look cute in that shirt.”
“What? This old thing?” I glance down at my outfit with a forced frown. “I’m not sure I would call this cute.” Before I finish speaking a huge grin is breaking across my face. I probably look ridiculous, but I’m still wearing his shirt and it smells like him so I don’t care. The hem is tied in a snug knot at my waist, and I have on my skirt from last night.
Taylor is going to have a field day with this once she sees my outfit. If I’m lucky she’ll still be sleeping when I get home. But she won’t be, not after I spent the night with him. She’ll be waiting in our kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, ready to spring as soon as I set foot through the front door.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step out first. Then my heart drops to my feet when my eyes land on a woman talking to the doorman across the lobby. It’s Mary Jane.
What the hell? Surely this is some sort of bad joke.
She sees Jackson before she sees me, and her eyes narrow at him like a hawk. A sneer flits across her face when she realizes I’m exiting with him.
Jackson cusses under his breath and places his hand on the small of my back, steering me toward the door where she stands.
“Jackson...fancy seeing you here,” she purrs and bats her eyelashes. She assesses my outfit and raises a knowing eyebrow. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
He steps between the two of us. “Don’t start,” he warns, his voice measured and steady.
She blinks once, her eyes wide with surprise. But she recovers quickly and peeks around his broad shoulders, shooting daggers my way. “Oh, I won’t start...not now, anyway. We’ll have all the time in the world to ruffle feathers now—I live in six-oh-one.”
My heart drops from my feet to the shiny marble floor, and then she stomps all over it. I lace my fingers with Jackson’s, and he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“We’re leaving,” he says. Then he shoulders past her.
Her eyes bore into the back of my head until we’re out of her line of sight.
I draw in a deep breath as soon as we’re outside. She lives in that building. Jackson lives in that building. Mary Jane and Jackson living in the same building. Mary Jane and Jackson. Oh God. I yank my hand away from his and stop. “Did you know she lived there?”
He rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “No.”
“I don’t like her.” Actually, I hate her.
He sighs and lets his hand drop. “I don’t like her either, but there isn’t much we can do about the situation.”
“The situation.” That’s exactly what Mary Jane is, a bad situation, one that lives right downstairs from my perfect situation with Jackson. Yeah, I definitely hate her.
I stomp down the sidewalk in hopes that my feet pounding against the pavement will release some of my anger. It doesn’t work. Jackson catches me and wraps an arm around my waist, bringing me to a stop. “Don’t let her get to you. That’s what she wants.”
I grit my teeth. “That’s a little difficult, given your history with her.”
“You’re overthinking things.”
I raise my chin a little. “I am not.”
“Charlie, you are. And you shouldn’t.” He places his hands on my shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze.
“It’s impossible not to overthink things like this,” I admit, dropping my eyes in defeat. She’s been with him. He’s be
en with her. He’s called her beautiful before, probably in the same way he speaks the words to me. She knows what his lips feel like...he’s something that we have in common, a shared interest between the two of us. It’s enough to make me sick, because I don’t want to share anything with her. I don’t want to share the oxygen in the atmosphere with Mary Jane.
He tilts my head back to look at him. His eyes are soft and open, the same green and blue as any other day. “Don’t overthink this.”
“Okay,” I say, petulant. “I won’t.”
But every atom in my body disagrees. Because as I speak I’m breathing the oxygen in the atmosphere, and I know Mary Jane is somewhere breathing the same air. Mary Jane, who’s already had what should only be mine.
* * *
“Charlie had sex!” Taylor shouts as soon as I step through the front door. She launches up from her seat in the kitchen and bounds over to me before I have time to shut the door behind me. My eyes flick to Devin. He’s at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and laughing between bites. What an embarrassing scenario, and so much worse with him here to witness it.
I drop my bag beside the door. “I did not.”
She yanks on my hand hard, pulling me toward the kitchen. “You wore his shirt home. You were so naked and rolling around in his sheets last night, admit it.”
“I slept over. And I wasn’t naked—not at any point. I was half-clothed at one point, but not because we were having sex.” I pull a glass from the cabinet and fill it with orange juice. “Hey, Devin.” I shoot him an apologetic smile. No man on earth should be subjected to this kind of girl talk.
He chuckles. “Morning.”
“What do you mean you didn’t have sex?” Taylor asks, staring at me like I’ve just spouted some bit about molecular biology.
“It means exactly what I said.” I pick up my orange juice and start to my room. She follows.
“So you’re telling me that you spent the entire night with him—clothed, half-clothed, whatever—and didn’t have sex? None at all? Did you do anything else?”
“We made out,” I say.
“You made out?” she repeats, incredulous.
“Yes, Taylor. We made out and that’s it.”
She watches me as I take a drink of my juice and then asks, “Did you at least DTR?”
I speak slowly and make sure my words are clear. “No. We didn’t have sex and we didn’t DTR.”
She throws her hands in the air, all dramatic like. “God, Charlie! I sent you there with a mission. And you bring me back a handful of crap.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m not in the mood, Taylor.”
“Yeah, you must not be in the mood if you spent the entire night with that hot piece and didn’t try—”
I shove her, pushing her out of my bedroom and into the hallway. Then I shut the door in her face.
* * *
The next weekend Jackson picks me up and we drive across town to Lucky Strike Bowling Lanes. It’s Friday night and this is our date. Bowling with Taylor, Devin, Jessica and Asher. A date that happens to involve four people too many.
Jackson takes my hand as we mosey toward the entrance. “Are you excited?”
“To spend the entire weekend with Taylor? Not really.” I roll my eyes but shoot him a playful grin. This isn’t how I pictured my weekend going. But after some groveling from Taylor, I caved like a spineless eel. And Jackson promised Devin we’d spend the day with them Saturday at the lake, boating.
Jackson throws his arm around my shoulder and tugs me to him. “It won’t be so bad. Entertaining at the very least, I’m sure.” I hope he’s right.
Jessica waves from across the room as we wait at the front desk for our bowling shoes. As always, she looks stunning, dressed in a pair of dark skinny jeans and a lacey white tank top. I think she may be the only person in this world who can make rented bowling shoes look cool.
After retrieving our shoes we cross the multitude of bowling lanes until we come to the one they occupy.
“Hey,” I say, smiling as we approach. I pull Jessica into a hug. “Asher, this is Jackson, Jackson—Asher.” I nod an introduction between the two of them.
Jackson shakes his hand and smiles. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Asher. You’re all Jessica ever talks about at the office.”
Crimson flushes across her cheeks, and she jabs her elbow into his ribs. Subtly, of course.
Asher looks on with amusement. “All good things, I hope?”
“Very good things,” I assure him quickly, shooting Jessica an apologetic look.
“Have you heard from Taylor?” Jessica asks in an attempt to change the subject. Her fluster is sort of refreshing, because for once it isn’t happening to me.
“I think they’re at the bar,” I say, glancing back toward the dimly lit room where people stand in line, waiting for drinks. “You two want anything?”
Jessica nods. “Yes, one of anything would be wonderful.”
I turn to Asher. “What about you?”
He looks thoughtful for a moment. “A beer? Just whatever.”
“I’m on it,” I say. Then I spin on my heels and head for the bar, and Jackson follows.
“He seems nice,” he says as we walk.
“That’s because he is nice.”
Taylor is sitting by herself at the bar, the seat beside her abandoned. I join her while Jackson gets the drinks.
I slip into the seat beside her. “Where’s Devin?”
She sighs and waves her hand through the air. “Taking a phone call somewhere. Avoiding me.”
“He’s not avoiding you.”
“He is,” she insists. “He hasn’t stayed over all week.”
That is odd since he basically lives there. “You’re overthinking this. Reading too much into it.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe you’re right.” She flicks her silky blond hair over her shoulder, trying for indifference.
I nudge her shoulder with mine. “You can’t fool me.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Forget about your boyfriend for the night and spend some time with your best friend.” I plead with my eyes, calling back the fun, upbeat Taylor I know.
She rolls her eyes again, but her lips finally break into a smile that’s genuine. “You’re so clingy.”
I laugh and narrow my eyes at the glass she’s spinning. “Are you drinking water?”
“God, no, Charlie. It’s vodka. Don’t you know me at all?”
I throw my head back and laugh. Taylor Hastings is back...for the night anyway.
* * *
“I feel like I should warn you. Taylor gets really competitive when it comes to bowling,” Devin tells Jackson, his expression serious.
He’s right about that, though. She’s been stretching her arm for five minutes. I’m almost embarrassed to be seen with her, because she’s got a bright blue sweatband wrapped around her head and it’s making her hair stick up. But she pulls it off well.
Jackson grins at Devin. “I’m up for some competition.”
“Come on, Charlie!” Taylor grabs me by the elbow and yanks. “Stretch that arm out! It’s time to get serious.”
I make a halfhearted attempt to please her, stretching my arm up and over my head and ignoring the snickers that come from Devin and Jackson. I still don’t know how Taylor talked me into a game of males versus females. It hardly seems fair. And if we lose, I might die. Taylor hates to lose.
Jessica is batting her eyelashes at Asher, who’s showing her how to hold the bowling ball...this definitely isn’t an even matchup. I hope he’s a good teacher, and a fast one.
When Taylor is finally limber, we begin. She goes first on our lane. Devin on the lane next to us. She gets way too carried away
, and I can tell she’s been watching bowling on TV again. I back away from the lane to avoid taking one of her flailing arms in my face.
I catch a glimpse of Jessica’s face. She looks slightly frightened, and I don’t blame her. “She likes to win,” I explain.
Jessica smiles, but her brown eyes are still worried. “I hope I’m not too terrible.”
“You’ll be fine.” I pat her on the back, and when I catch Jackson’s eye, I wink and add, “Jackson isn’t very good anyway. It should be pretty close.”
He raises an eyebrow in challenge, and I grin in response.
Taylor gets a strike, and when Devin leaves one pin standing she makes sure he’s aware. He takes it all in good nature. This is her underhanded way of taking her pent-up frustration out on him. I resolve to have a discussion with him later.
It’s my turn next. Jackson readies himself as I wait for the ball Taylor and I are sharing to return.
He grins and gestures to the shining hardwood floor before him. “Ladies first.”
I take a deep breath and move forward. Then I let go of the ball, propelling it forward and willing it stay straight. It crashes into the middle pin, knocking all of them down in the process.
I spin around and smirk at him. This might be more interesting than I thought.
* * *
“We so won,” I gloat, clinking my shot glass to Taylor’s and Jessica’s before we down them. It’s something sweet and colored, and very appropriate.
Taylor slams her glass down loudly then bats her eyelashes like she’s innocent when Devin’s head snaps to her in surprise. I shake my head. Subtle, Hastings.
I kick her sharply under the table, and she shoots me a dirty look. “Taylor, will you go get us another drink?”
She rolls her eyes in exasperation but trudges away.
I shoot Jessica an obvious look, my eyes darting to the bar, and she excuses herself, asking Asher to accompany her.
When they’re gone I turn to Jackson. “Can you go grab my cell phone from your car? I need to text my dad.”
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