“Izzy.”
“I don't know why I haven't been back before now, actually.”
“Fuck Rochdale.”
“And they also ser-” My head snaps at his sudden change of tone, my eyes widening as I search his face, my breath held in my chest for a split second before I realise he's actually smiling back at me in that charming way he does. “Sorry?” I whisper.
Jack leans over the arm rest, his head only inches away from mine as he speaks softly. “I said fuck Rochdale. I'm not going.”
“You're not?”
“No. I'm not leaving your side.”
I move my mouth and attempt to say something at least twelve times, but each time I do, the words just seem to get stuck on the tip of my tongue.
“When will you realise how much I want you? Shit, that’s not enough. I fucking need to have you, I really need you.” He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand, eventually capturing my neck in his gentle grip before pulling me forward. “I don't care how long we have or haven't known each other. From the moment I saw you, I told myself I would make you mine. The sooner you realise I'm not letting you go, the better it will be for both of us.”
My eyes seem to search his face for a lifetime. I don't know what to say or how to respond, because for the first time in my life, I'm speechless in a way I've never been speechless before.
“Do you hear me?” he growls playfully.
“Yes.”
“So what's going on behind those eyes of yours that is making me think you don't, Iz?”
“Why me?” I breathe softly.
The sound of the captain's voice suddenly fills the air as he gives the plane full of passengers their warning for the approaching descent. I manage to pick out the odd word here and there, but my gaze is locked on Jack and all my other senses seem to have quit work half way through their shift.
The slow introduction of his grin melts any resistance I have as he pulls me that little bit closer and brushes his lips against mine.
“Why not?” The moment his mouth meets mine, I struggle to stay sat in my seat, completely ignoring the seatbelt signs as they ping and flash above us. Everything about him feels like home.
Home.
Something I haven't truly felt I've had since the passing of Dandy.
My hand reaches out to grip the top of his arm when he starts to pull away, his lips curling into a smile against mine as I try to hold him back, not wanting us to break contact now… Not ever.
Not ever.
I don't want to be away from him. Not now. Not ever.
The thought repeats itself in a whisper in my mind, over and over again. There's a small buzz of activity going on all around us. People are shifting their bags, children are crying as they're strapped back into their seats and the hostesses are walking up and down the aisles as they make their routine checks.
But all I see and all I hear is him as he rests his forehead against mine and holds me in place.
“Give me a chance. Give me one month. Just one month from today. I'll book it for the thirtieth of October.”
“The day before Halloween,” I whisper through a small, nervous laugh.
“Yes, that day. I'll buy you a pumpkin and turn it into a princess carriage for you.” His smile grows wider with every word that he says, and his voice drops quieter as he, too, gets lost in this simple moment that we're sharing. “Thirty days. I'll find a venue. I'll make it happen. If you don't want to show up, you leave me at the altar and I'll walk away for good.”
My short, sharp intake of breath startles me as I instantly recognise just how painful the thought of him walking away actually sounds to me.
“One month,” he repeats. “I'm going to marry you in just one month. I promise you.”
Feeling like I'm on the edge of a cliff, about to finally stop resisting his push on my back, I briefly close my eyes and smile before releasing all the tension my body holds through a torturously slow exhale. When my lashes flutter open and my gaze locks back on his, the words that fall out of my mouth seem to take on a life of their own.
“Okay. Whatever you say, Jack.”
Before I can register the look on his face, his lips attack mine with such excitement and force, I temporarily struggle for air. My stomach flips as the plane’s flight path drops a level and we slowly start to make our way back down to the real world. Caught in a lustful kiss, unable to fasten my seatbelt despite the warning light flashing above me, my body starts to panic in his arms.
Fiddling with the straps around my waist, I try to pull and click them together whilst he holds me greedily against him.
“Excuse me, Sir, Madam.”
Breaking away from me as slowly as he can, he turns to grin up at the hostess. It takes less than a second for her to get caught up in his spell, too, and I can't help but marvel at how easy he finds it to capture the world in his palm with a mere flash of his teeth.
“Buckle up, right?”
“Yes please, Sir, safety first.” She grins at him.
“Roger that, Captain.” He salutes and winks. Turning back to me and eyeing my struggle with the fastenings, Jack quickly takes over and effortlessly secures me in place before falling back into his own seat and smiling to no-one else but himself.
I can't seem to stop staring at his profile as he clasps his hands in his lap and closes his eyes.
My heart drops into my stomach again, causing it to flip, the unnerving, out of control feeling attacking my body in worry. Only this time, as my eyes rake over the jaw line of the man beside me, I'm not entirely convinced it's from the descent alone.
Eighteen
20th October, 2004
Jack Parker.
Twenty-four years old.
Born and raised in North London with parents he rarely speaks of and two sisters: one older and one younger. He used to have a cat named Jasper and his first ever car was a BMW. Snazzy.
Characteristics: Charming, charismatic, intelligent, witty, focused, driven, energetic, confident, decisive, eager, kind, caring, protective, loveable and handsome. We can't forget handsome.
Apart from those few things that I know for certain about the man who now lives with me, I'm as clueless as a passing stranger on the street as to who Jack Parker really is.
Every morning when I wake up with him wrapped around me, I can practically hear Dan whispering, ‘You should know more, Izzy.’ But one look at my fiancé sleeping beside me, the small curls of his black hair falling forward in that unruly way that instantly makes me run my fingers through them, and I’m lost in this oasis he's created for us both. All my worries and fears seem to dissolve into dust.
True to his word, Jack started planning our wedding the second he stepped off the plane and took hold of my hand at Manchester airport. Every time he hangs up the phone and claps his hands together in victory, I smile back at him with such enthusiasm, it makes my heart ache. Despite trying to convince myself that all this is a joke, or him trying to prove a point to make me see my own self-worth, each passing night and every new break of dawn, I fall further and further into the dream.
It happens to be day twenty of his stay with me. Each morning, I check the calendar hung up in the kitchen and hold my breath. This game we're playing with each other has such high stakes. If he wins, we get married and hopefully live an unexpected long and happy life together. But if I win, if I'm proved right and I wake to find Jack gone one morning, just like everyone else in my life has done so far, I'll be the one left shattered.
Rising up on my toes to reach for two bowls, after doing my usual routine of flicking on the kettle and then the radio, I start to serve up our usual, modest breakfast of cornflakes, whilst humming along to the gravelly voice of Chris Izaak. We don’t have a lot of money between us, but we don’t go without, either. It’s just the two of us seem to like the simpler things in life. Why waste time when we don’t know if we have it? Why waste money when it could all be gone tomorrow?
Whilst lost in a small,
happy bubble of thoughts about Jack, my body finds a rhythm of its own as I shuffle around the room, grab a spoon and lean over the small breakfast counter in my compact apartment.
Music fills the room, just the same as it does every morning, and I’m rolling my hips to the classic eighties track when I feel his arms circle my waist from behind and his head rest against my back.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
“What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way,” he sings softly along to the radio, his arms pulling me tighter to him as he slowly sways us both to the music.
Dropping my hands to the surface, I try to steady myself against his movements, my smile growing as the words seem to melt from his mouth. I know instantly what he's doing. This is one of his games of seduction, and the lyrics to this particular song seem to fit his scheme perfectly. Damn BBC Radio Two for that. Damn everyone and everything that seems to fall in line with his plans.
Spinning me around in his grip, my back is forced against the counter as he presses himself tighter against me and continues to sing. I should want to make him work for it, but for some reason, I’m weak to him every single time and I can’t help but throw my hands around his neck and allow myself to get lost in all of him. It’s strange to think how much comfort he is able to provide me after knowing him for such a short amount of time.
Trailing kisses along my jaw, down my neck and across the top of my chest, Jack’s breathy whisper breaks through the haze of tingling that flows through my mind at his every touch. “I’m buying your dress today.”
“Hmm,” I moan softly, my eyes closing and my head falling back.
“And your shoes.”
“Perfect.”
“Size?”
“Six. Converse.”
“I’m buying you the finest glass slippers Cinderella ever saw.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
“And my suit.”
“Black?”
“Grey,” he breathes, delicately trailing his tongue the full length of my collar bone, causing my hips to nudge closer to his. Jack’s hand automatically grabs for my thigh as he pulls my leg up around his waist.
“I like grey.”
“I like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“Is that the extent of it?” he asks as he pushes himself further into me and rocks his hips in a slow, seductive rhythm.
“No.”
“So say it, Izzy.”
The tightening of my heart makes my eyes squeeze together in some kind of automatic defence. I know exactly what he’s asking me to say, but I don’t want to be the first to say it, even though I’m almost certain it’s true. I’m holding on to it for dear life, begging my body and mind to work together and allow me to stay in control for just that little bit longer.
“You say it,” I challenge him, but even I can hear the weakness in my voice.
Jack’s other hand runs up my back and neck until his fingers fist my hair and tug gently on the ends. He knows all my weaknesses, and he knows that by taking command of me in this exact way, it’s only going to get him what he wants that little bit quicker than I was originally hoping to give it up.
“Say it,” he repeats softly as his lips move to brush against mine.
“I…”
He circles his hips once.
“I lo…”
He circles his hips twice.
“Fuck.”
His fingers tug harder on my hair and suddenly, all my senses are lost to him and all my actual sense has gone out of the window with the last shred of control I had.
“I love you,” I whimper against his lips.
The feel of his smile curling against my mouth forces my eyes to flicker open.
“There it is,” he growls in seduction, right before both his hands fall from my leg and hair and he turns back into the kitchen.
Every muscle in my body sags as he breaks contact so suddenly and all I can do is stare at him. My face is completely blank as I watch him move around, acting like what just happened never actually happened at all. Stretching his arms up to the ceiling before letting them fall, he drops one hand to find his bare stomach and rubs it like he’s a damn cave man. I’m about to ask him what the fuck just happened when he looks over his shoulder and beams back at me.
“So, what’s for breakfast?”
*******
Morning comes and goes, as does lunch, followed by the clock striking five in the afternoon. But not once today does my good mood show up, not even for a fleeting moment. Even though I’m moving around and making it look like I’m making use of the passing hours, everything about me stayed pressed against that breakfast counter this morning, my mouth hung open in surprise and my brows creased together in utter confusion. I’d just gone against everything I ever said I would become and declared my love to a man at his command, and he had simply walked away from me like I’d just told him that it was raining outside or the local newsagents had run out of Sunday morning papers.
I can’t figure out how the hell that was supposed to make me feel.
It’s almost six in the evening now, and I’m sat at the vanity table in our bedroom, staring blankly at my reflection in the mirror while my mind races with doubt over every little thing he’s ever said to me. Surely if he felt the same way, he would have swept me off my feet and told me he loved me, too. Surely… Surely no man can be so cruel as to want to hear that from a woman when they don’t have the urge to say it back. Every negative thought I’ve ever had about myself burns holes in my happiness, threatening to send it up in a burst of flames at any given moment. Where have I gone wrong? What have I ever said to upset him? Why doesn’t he love me back?
I’m so lost in the darkness of my own thoughts, I don’t hear him turn the key in the front door. I don’t hear it slam shut as he fumbles down our tiny corridor and the soles of his wet feet slap against the hardwood floor. I don’t hear his loud exhale as he enters our bedroom and throws several dress bags on top of the duvet before slowly making his way behind me. I don’t hear him shrug out of his jacket, and I certainly don’t hear the question that falls from his lips as a frown takes over his face while I continue to drown in my own gaze. I don’t hear anything until the feel of his palms resting on both my shoulders suddenly makes me flinch in surprise. My sharp inhale catches in my throat the second my eyes flutter to look back at him in the mirror.
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, his head moving to rest on my right shoulder, his mouth pouting in sympathy while his hands begin to rub the tops of my arms, reassuringly.
“Nothing,” I whisper. “Nothing at all.”
“Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I lie.
The narrowing of his eyes as we hold each other’s gaze tells me he doesn’t buy it, but no matter how much I desperately want to question him about the events of this morning, I can’t help but think that it simply isn’t worth the upset that it would inevitably cause. If he loved me, he would have said so. Maybe all I need to do is wait and give him time, hope that eventually he will feel comfortable enough with me to let those words pass his lips. Jack has been begging me to marry him every single day. There’s no way he would do that if I wasn’t what he wanted for the rest of his life. There’s no way. There’s just…
My inner ramblings get cut off the second his mouth presses into the deepest curve of my neck and begins to make its way up to the sensitive spot, just below my ear. The sudden awakening of my skin threatens to make me close my eyes and give in to him just for a quiet life and a satisfying moment of sexual gratification… but there’s another part of me that simply refuses to become putty in his hands at the weakest of kisses. I’m stronger than that. At least, I hope I am.
“Jack, stop it,” I mutter pathetically.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not in the mood,” I respond flatly before sliding my shoulder away from his touch and rising to a stand beside the stool I was sat on. Jac
k remains bent at the waist, his mouth hung open in surprise while his wide eyes look at me like he can’t actually believe I’ve just refused him the one thing he thought was my very own form of kryptonite.
“You’re not in the mood for sex, or you’re not in the mood for me at all?” The slow straightening of his body and stiffening of his spine makes me fold my arms across my chest in defence. I don’t want this to turn into a showdown, but I have a feeling that’s exactly what’s about to happen.
“Just leave it.”
“That isn’t going to happen and you know it.”
“Jack…”
“Answer me.” His tone is soft but commanding and I’m aware that if it was under different circumstances, it would probably make me fall to my knees and hand my body over to him in a heartbeat.
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Like what? Like a man who has just been shunned by the woman he plans on marrying in just ten days? Like a man who has to put up with these constant mood swings from left to right and feels like he can’t keep up from one minute to the next? Like a man who, despite all his better judgement, just wants to make you happy, while all you seem to want to do is sulk, no matter what I do?”
“Sulk?” I whisper. “When have I ever sulked? All I do is whatever you ask me to do. I put off work for you. I put off my life for you. I’m going against everything I ever taught myself, and all for what? For you, Jack. You!”
He shoves both hands deep into his pockets, flares his nostrils in quiet anger and drops the tone of his voice all at once. “You had no life before me, Izzy. Despite what you so obviously think of me, I only want to make you happy. I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Moving without thinking, I take a step forward and swallow down the emotion in my throat. “I had a great life, thank you. I survived quite well by myself before you came along.”
His head rolls back between his shoulders as he lifts his chin towards the ceiling and barks out a laugh. “Come on. You were a ghost of what you are now, and we both know why, don’t we? We both know who was to blame for stealing that fire in your heart. It wasn’t me, was it?”
Izzy Moffit's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 1) Page 13