by S. H. Kolee
Chapter Four
"Wait a second," I protested. "I thought we were going to a restaurant."
"Welcome to Chez Reynard," Jackson said with a devilish grin.
We were standing outside his apartment building as I struggled with whether it was a good idea to go inside Jackson's apartment. As much as I was planning on having a fling with him, I wasn't sure if I was ready for a one night stand considering the only person I had ever slept with was Sean.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," I said hesitantly.
"I'm not a serial killer, honest." Jackson held out his hands in supplication. "Just ask Claire."
I rolled my eyes. "That's not what I'm worried about."
"Concerned that you can't keep your hands off me?" Jackson asked with a wolfish grin.
"No one can say you don't have a healthy ego," I retorted, but I couldn't help smiling. Jackson's playfulness was charming.
"Scout's honor that I really just want to have dinner. I promise to cook you an amazing meal. You can decide when the night ends."
"Well, okay," I relented, knowing that it had never been much of a debate. Regardless of my reservations about going up to Jackson's apartment, I knew that I would eventually agree. It was hard to resist him.
As we walked inside, I noted that Jackson's building was a lot nicer than mine was, complete with a doorman, plush carpeting and an elevator.
"This is a nice building," I said after Jackson had greeted Sam, the doorman, and we stepped inside the elevator. I watched Jackson push the button for the sixteenth floor. "You must really be an amazing trainer."
Jackson smiled without commenting as the elevator whisked us up silently to his floor. He looked contemplative as he watched the floor numbers light up and I suddenly felt a little awkward. Besides being an actor, part-time trainer and non-serial killer, I didn't know much else about Jackson.
"Claire told me you guys met in an acting class."
Jackson looked at me and nodded. "Yeah, it was an awful class taught by some kook who believed acting like animals helped improve our craft. I spent most of our classes walking around clucking and flapping my arms."
"At least you know you'll be a shoo-in for any barnyard animal roles."
Jackson laughed and grabbed my hand as the elevator arrived on the sixteenth floor and the doors opened.
Jackson unlocked the door to his apartment and ushered me in, flicking on the lights and leading me into the living room. Jackson's apartment made mine look like a shanty. The living room was as large as my entire apartment with a balcony that led to a fantastic view. Despite the size, the furnishings were sparse with one long leather couch and a massive TV mounted on the wall.
"This place is huge," I said. "And you have an amazing view." I didn't understand how Jackson could afford such a nice apartment, but I didn't think he would appreciate me demanding to know the details of his salary. Maybe he came from money.
"Thanks," he said, his voice muffled as I heard him rummaging in the kitchen. "Do you want some wine?"
"I would love some, thanks."
I walked over to the sliding glass doors and looked outside, thrilled at all the lights twinkling against the backdrop of the night sky.
"Here you go."
I jumped, Jackson's voice sounding closer than I expected since I hadn't heard him come up behind me. I turned around and he handed me a wine glass.
"I hope sauvignon blanc is okay," he said, lightly clinking his glass with mine.
"It's great," I said, taking a sip. "But I thought struggling actors were supposed to drink Bud Light."
Jackson grinned. "I only serve that when I really want to impress a girl."
I laughed as I took another sip. I didn't know much about wine but the cool liquid was delicious and crisp against my tongue.
"So where's this dinner I keep hearing about?"
"Ah," Jackson said, raising an eyebrow. "You're in for a treat. On today's menu we'll be serving chicken marsala with pasta."
I looked at Jackson skeptically. "You're really going to cook?"
Jackson shook his head in mock disappointment. "Your doubt in my skills pains me."
"Okay," I said with a smile. "I believe you. I'm waiting to be amazed."
Jackson frowned. "Well, you need to be my sous chef."
"Hey, I never said I was going to do any cooking," I protested. "I thought you wanted to impress me with your culinary skills."
Jackson smiled sweetly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that food tastes better when you cook together?"
I felt a hollow pang at Jackson's words. It reminded me of the countless nights Sean and I had cooked dinner together. I missed the easy intimacy of working together without having to say a word.
Jackson looked at me thoughtfully. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said mustering a smile. I needed to concentrate on having a fling, not wallowing in sentimental memories. "I'm ready to chop whatever you throw at me."
Jackson paused for a beat, studying me. He then seemed to accept my answer and grabbed my hand, guiding me to the kitchen. I was starting to get used to being dragged places with Jackson's warm hand in mine.
Jackson started pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator along with a cutting board, a frying pan and a large pot.
"You're in charge of cutting mushrooms," he said, placing the cutting board and knife in front of me as well as a carton of mushrooms.
"I think I can handle that," I replied, setting my wine glass on the counter and picking up the mushrooms. "I should wash these first."
Jackson turned the burner on under the pot he had filled with water and then pulled out chicken breasts that were already pounded thin. "I already washed them earlier."
I bit my lip as I looked at the ingredients on the counter. A lot of it had already been prepped. The fact that Jackson cared enough to put thought and effort into this dinner touched me. I felt an insidious warmth in my chest and I reminded myself that this was a fling. The last thing I needed was to get too attached. Besides, I reminded myself of what Claire had told me. As good of a guy as Jackson was, he wasn't someone who took relationships seriously. I needed to take that to heart if I wanted to prevent myself from getting hurt.
I turned my attention to chopping mushrooms, stopping to take a sip of wine every so often. I needed the courage it gave me if what I thought was going to happen tonight actually happened.
Jackson looked up from coating the chicken in a flour mixture. "I see that you know your way around a knife. Do you like to cook?"
"Only when I feel like it. It's such a hassle after a long day at work though. Sometimes it's just easier to get takeout and call it a day. Besides, I only know how to make a few things."
Jackson shook his head and made a tsking sound. "You'll change your tune after you taste my chicken marsala."
"Oh, I'm fine with you doing the cooking," I said generously. "You can cook for me any day."
"I'll remember that," Jackson replied, grinning and turning back to his chicken. "How do you like living in New York so far?"
"Still good. I like my job even though it's only been a few days."
Jackson added salt to the boiling water and dropped the linguine in the pot.
"That's great. Do you like it better than your old job in D.C.?"
I thought about it before answering. "Well, it's different. I worked for a much smaller company in D.C., but I had a lot more responsibility. At Mass, I just got my foot in the door as an assistant and I'm trying to wrangle my way further in. Fortunately, my boss seems to want me to excel and is giving me a chance with more responsibilities."
I was done chopping the mushrooms and watched Jackson drizzle olive oil in a saucepan. He looked up at me and smiled. "I have no doubt that you'll be promoted in no time."
I smiled at his compliment but raised an eyebrow. "How do you know? You just met me. I could be one of the laziest people you've ever met."
"I'm good at reading people, and I can tell y
ou know how to get what you want. See how you had me waiting around for you tonight, hoping you'd show up?"
I laughed. "Thanks, I guess." I studied Jackson over the rim of my wine glass as he deftly worked in the kitchen. "What about you? What made you want to be an actor?"
"Hmm, good question." Jackson looked up from the saucepan and shrugged. "I'm not really sure. After college, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I sort of just fell into acting. A buddy of mine was a theater major and I happened to go along with him to one of his auditions. The rest is history."
Jackson added cream to the saucepan along with the mushrooms.
"Hey, watch the cream!" I exclaimed, setting my glass on the counter. "I thought you were supposed to be all about health and nutrition. You're a trainer, after all."
"That's why you work out. So you can eat junk." Jackson glanced at me with a smile. "Besides, you're already perfect the way you are."
I picked up my wine glass again to take a sip to have something to do. Jackson's compliment flummoxed me and I didn't know what to say. It wasn't every day I had a perfect male specimen telling me that I was perfect. Unfortunately, when I tipped the glass back the only thing I sipped was air.
Jackson laughed loudly. "I think someone needs more wine."
He grabbed the bottle from the refrigerator and filled my glass.
"Thanks," I said weakly, feeling foolish. I hadn't realized I had drunk my glass of wine so quickly. I really needed to watch how much I drank so that I didn't get too tipsy, but it was too tempting to continue drinking. Liquid courage.
Jackson drained the pasta and scooped some into two plates. He placed a chicken breast on top of each plate and spooned the sauce over it.
"Dinner is served."
"It looks and smells amazing," I said as I followed Jackson into the dining room, picking up his wineglass and setting it on the table along with mine.
After sitting down, I twirled the linguine onto my fork along with a piece of chicken and took a large bite.
"Oh my God," I said after I was done chewing. "I apologize for any aspersions I may have cast on your cooking ability. This is amazing."
Jackson looked pleased at my compliment, his green eyes sparkling with enjoyment as he watched me eat. "I'm glad you like it."
I paused mid-way of my second bite and looked at Jackson, who was just sitting there watching me. "Aren't you eating?"
Jackson picked up his fork and dug into his own plate. "I was just enjoying watching you eat."
"So you just fell into acting," I said, looking for conversation territory that wouldn't make my stomach do somersaults. Of course, no somersault could stop me from eating the delicious chicken. I wondered if I should eat more daintily but it was hard for me not to eat with gusto, especially since the food was so delicious.
"Yup," Jackson replied as he began eating. "And once I started, it just felt natural. I started getting more and more bit parts, I picked up an agent along the way, and I realized how much I enjoyed it."
"And now you're in a play with Claire."
"It's playing in a tiny theater in the Lower East Side but it's interesting and I like the part. It's called Choosing Matthew." Jackson winked. "Of course, I play Matthew."
"Of course," I said with a laugh.
"Are you coming to see it this week?"
"I'm not sure. I have to see what my work schedule is like." What I really meant was I had to see how things went between us tonight. I didn't want to commit to something that would make us both feel awkward if tonight didn't work out.
"If you can't come Friday night, there's always Saturday night. You can't be working on a Saturday."
I shrugged. "I'm not sure. My boss is pretty demanding, even though I like her. I'll see."
"Just let me know. I'll make sure to get you a seat up front." Jackson frowned before continuing. “Technically I guess you would be Claire's guest."
"I don't know," I replied noncommittally. "I told her I'd come see the show some time, but it wasn't anything definite."
"Great," Jackson said, beaming. "Then you'll be my date."
"Jackson," I said, unable to suppress a laugh. "I'll definitely try to come. I just don't want to make a promise I can't keep."
Jackson nodded but I could see the wheels in his head already turning. I told myself that just because this was a fling didn't mean that it couldn't be an extended fling. This could be my summer-long fling.
What a way to spend my first summer in New York.
"So what was it like growing up in Maryland?"
"It was good. Just your normal suburban upbringing. What about you? Where are you from?"
"I grew up right outside of the city in Westchester."
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Jackson leaned back, watching me eat. It made me feel self-conscious and I made an effort to eat in a more ladylike manner.
"I have a younger brother, Ryan. He's twenty-three and living down in Miami. Finding himself, I guess."
"I've always wanted to go to Miami. It seems like such a gorgeous place with the white beaches. What's the age difference between you two?"
Jackson smiled faintly as he watched me. My self-consciousness kicked into high gear.
"I'm four years older."
"So that makes you twenty-seven, right?"
Jackson just nodded and I put down my fork. "Why are you just watching me eat?"
Jackson smiled even wider. "Am I making you nervous again?"
"No," I lied. "It's just kind of creepy."
Jackson laughed. "Sorry. It's just satisfying to see you enjoying your food so much."
"That's it," I groaned. "I'm never eating in front of you again."
Jackson picked up his fork and resumed eating. "Sorry. I promise not to creep you out anymore by watching you eat."
I watched Jackson eat for a few beats and then picked up my own fork. Jackson glanced up at me and grinned when he saw me eating again, but I just rolled my eyes.
"What about you? Do you have any siblings?"
I shook my head. “Growing up, I always wanted a sister, but it was just me. I guess the good thing was I never had to share my toys."
I looked down at my clean plate and smiled ruefully. "There goes my workout."
Jackson gave me a lazy grin. "I can think of other ways to work up a sweat."
I burst out laughing. "Wow, you're really relentless."
He winked. "It's part of my charm."
Jackson stood up and walked over to me, pulling me up and drawing me into the living room. He flicked on a switch on his sound system and the room instantly filled with the throaty voice of Billie Holiday. He drew me in close, resting his hands on my waist.
"Dance with me."
I was powerless to protest even if I had wanted to, which I certainly didn't. The look on Jackson's face told me everything I needed to know. I could see desire darkening his green eyes and I wrapped my arms around his neck as we slowly swayed to Billie's crooning voice.
Jackson increased the pressure of his hands, pulling my body closer until our hips were cradling each other. It was impossible to miss the evidence of his arousal pushing against me and my body ignited in response, desire pooling between my legs.
Jackson reached up with one hand, cupping my cheek and bending down so our breaths were mingling together.
"Do you know how much I want you?"
I looked up at him wordlessly, unable to form a response. I felt caught in his web of seduction and I surrendered myself to it.
Jackson smiled slowly, bringing his head down further so that his lips were barely grazing mine. I eagerly deepened the kiss, opening my mouth and welcoming the velvety softness of his tongue stroking mine.
Jackson groaned and crushed me even closer, pulling my hair out of its ponytail and gripping my scalp with his hands as he seemed to lose control of the kiss. I was right there with him as all my inhibitions went out the door. I eagerly tangled my hands in his hair, ur
ging him closer, begging him to kiss me harder and welcoming the bruising force of his mouth on mine. I had never felt this kind of passion before in my life and it felt exhilarating.
Jackson broke his mouth free, breathing harshly and desire tightening his face. I whimpered in protest at the loss of contact, but Jackson just gently brushed my cheek with the back of his hand, the gesture so at odds with the fierce passion he had shown just moments before.
"Are you sure, Emma? I don't want you to regret this. We can go slower."
I shook my head. "I want this just as much as you do."
Jackson grinned crookedly. "That's a relief. If I stopped now, I'd probably have to take a cold shower for days."
I smiled up at him, thrilled that this beautiful man wanted me as badly as I wanted him. He led me into his bedroom and I barely registered the large bed as he pulled me down with him, rolling on top of me. The feeling of his muscular body pressing against mine ignited my desire and my hard nipples pushed against his unyielding chest. I parted my legs and cradled him, the yearning between my thighs increasing to an almost painful level.
Jackson leaned down and lightly nipped at my lips, but I wanted him too badly to go slow. I pulled his head closer to mine and kissed him deeply. This time I was the one that invaded his mouth with my tongue, stroking his eagerly and arching my body up against him.
Jackson made a sound of approval in his throat as he seemed to release the reign on his control, matching me stroke for stroke with his tongue. His hand burrowed underneath my shirt and the built-in bra, cupping my breast and stroking my hard nipple with his rough thumb.
I whimpered and arched against his hand, not wanting the sensation to stop.
"I need to see you," Jackson muttered gutturally and he grabbed the edge of my shirt and pulled it over my head, releasing my breasts heavy with arousal with one quick pull. He drank me in greedily and then leaned down to lick one of my painfully hard nipples.
"Oh God," I moaned. "Please."
Jackson looked down at me with glittering eyes. "You're so damn beautiful. All I could think about while I watched you stretch was what you would look like naked. The sounds you would make when I touched you. It's even better than anything I could have imagined."