Love Left Behind

by S. H. Kolee

  "Are you okay with us kissing during the play?"

  "I have to admit that if it were up to me, you guys would just shake hands instead of kissing passionately." I smiled at him ruefully. "But I know it's just part of the play. Besides, you're so good in your role that I see Matthew kissing Annie, not you kissing Claire."

  "Good," Jackson said as he cuddled me close, my head nestled in the crook of his neck. "That's just acting. I've never felt the way I do about you with anyone else, especially this quickly."

  I breathed in Jackson's warm scent, feeling happy and secure. "Me too."

  We snuggled on the couch and watched mindless television until it was time to get ready for Nathan's art show.

  "What are you wearing?" I asked Jackson as I wrapped a towel around me and stepped out of the shower. Jackson was shaving at the sink and I marveled at how at ease we were with each other already.

  "It's pretty casual, so just jeans. It's in a little gallery that's really low key."

  I saw Jackson watching me in the mirror as I brushed the tangles out of my wet hair.

  "What?" I asked as I paused midway of a brush stroke.

  Jackson turned around and pulled me close. I could feel the heat of his body through my towel and I shivered.

  "I'm just happy," Jackson answered simply. "You make me happy."

  "You make me happy too," I said, reaching up on my toes to kiss him. Jackson immediately increased the pressure of the kiss, slanting his warm mouth over mine and slipping his tongue into my mouth.

  We broke apart breathless and Jackson got a mischievous look on his face. "Let me help you with that towel," he said as he reached to unwrap it from me.

  "Jackson!" I admonished with a laugh, pulling away and clutching the towel closer to me. "We're going to be late. There's plenty of time for that later."

  Jackson sighed but he acquiesced with a small smile. "It's your fault for being so irresistible. I guess I'll just have to ravish you tonight."

  "Speaking of tonight, I think I should stay at my place."

  Jackson furrowed his brow, opening his mouth to protest, but I continued before he could speak.

  "It's not that I don't want to spend the night, but I have to work tomorrow and it'll be easier for me if I stay at my place. Besides, I feel kind of bad spending so much time here. Claire and I are still getting to know each other and I don't want her to feel like I'm always gone."

  "I'm sure she's fine with you staying here," Jackson contested with a frown. "And I promise not to make you late for work tomorrow."

  I raised an eyebrow. "I've heard that promise before. Besides, I'm worried about making myself late. It feels too good being in bed with you. The last thing I want to do when I wake up in the morning with you next to me is leave."

  Jackson sighed but he nodded his head. "Okay, but when are you going to stay over again?"

  "How about Wednesday? I'll come to the gym for a workout and then stay the night."

  "I'll just have to look forward to Wednesday then," Jackson said with a suggestive smile. He reached down and slipped his hand under my towel, gently stroking my sensitive bud between my legs. "I'll have to warn you that I'll be all pent up from not burying myself in this sweetness for two whole days. I'm likely to ravage you at the gym on the floor of my office."

  My lower body instantly clenched as I felt wetness pool at my core from his light touch. I held my breath as Jackson slipped two fingers inside of me. I watched transfixed as he brought them, glistening with my wetness, to his lips, licking them as his eyes pierced through me.

  "Now you're trying to kill me," I croaked, echoing his words from yesterday.

  Jackson grinned, smacking me lightly on my bare bottom. "Now I'm not the only one in a state of frustration."

  I wrinkled my nose and flounced out of the bathroom, but I couldn't suppress my laughter. Jackson Reynard had me tied up in knots and I loved it.

  I dressed in tight dark jeans that were like a second skin and a black form-fitting top with a deep vee, my cleavage in full display. It was provocative, but didn't cross the line to slutty. I wanted Jackson to want me tonight as much as I wanted him, especially after the trick he had pulled in the bathroom.

  I completed the look with fire engine red heels just as Jackson was coming out of the bathroom. His eyes gleamed when he caught sight of me, his gaze trailing down my body and then up again.

  "You're trying to play dirty," he said with a glint in his eye, striding closer to me. He pulled me forward by the belt loops of my jeans, pressing me against him so that I could clearly feel his erection. "I may have to just corner you in the bathroom of the gallery and bend you over a sink so I can fuck your brains out."

  My lower body convulsed at his words but I just smiled innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"

  Jackson narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to drive me crazy with that outfit." He then grinned self-deprecatingly. "It's working."

  "Good," I said with a wicked smile and pulled away, going to the bathroom to dry my hair and put on makeup.

  When we were done getting ready, we grabbed a cab to my apartment since it was raining and I had my overnight bag with me. When I unlocked the door to my apartment, Claire was sitting on the couch watching television. She jumped up when she saw us entering.

  "Is it as gross out there as it looks?" she asked as Jackson shook the umbrella in the hallway to get some of the water off.

  "Worse," I replied with a grimace. "I'm just hoping that we're able to get a cab to the gallery. The cab we took over here wouldn't wait for us."

  "Hi, Claire," Jackson said. He turned to me as he picked up my overnight bag. "I'll just put this in your room. Which door is your bedroom?"

  I pointed to my bedroom door, not being able to deny that I was relieved that Jackson hadn't spent enough time in the apartment to know which was Claire's bedroom. I decided to lay any doubts I had to rest. Both Claire and Jackson had reassured me that nothing had happened between them all those years ago and there was no need for me to be jealous.

  "You look great," I told Claire. She was wearing jeans that made her legs seem a million miles long and an emerald green, sleeveless top that showed off her toned arms.

  "Thanks, you too," she replied with an appreciative glance at my outfit. She gave me a meaningful look at my open bedroom door where Jackson was. "I told you curvy was in."

  I just laughed and went into my bedroom to see what was taking Jackson so long. He was leaning over my dresser, studying the pictures I had placed on top of it. He turned around and smiled when he heard me enter.

  "I was just looking at your pictures. I'm assuming these are your parents."

  I walked over next to him and he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. I rested my head against his shoulder and nodded. I had three pictures on display. One was of my parents before they had me, looking young and carefree. My father was laughing into the camera and my mother was looking up at him adoringly. Another picture was of the three of us, me as a toddler in my father's arms as my mother leaned up against him, looking content and happy. The third picture was of just my father and me. I must have been in about first grade and I was on my father's shoulders with a huge smile stretched across my face. I remembered that picture being taken. I had been so proud that I had such a strong father who could carry me so effortlessly. I had been convinced that my father was the strongest person in the world.

  Jackson reached up with his other hand and brushed my cheek softly. He didn't say any words and he didn't need to. I knew he understood how I was feeling without having to say anything.

  "We should go," I said, breaking the silence. "Claire's going to be wondering what we're doing in here."

  We were lucky to grab a cab and make it to the art gallery under half an hour, even with the rain and traffic. Claire seemed to have gotten a burst of energy and chattered throughout the whole cab ride, talking about auditions she had gone on, ideas of how to get Choosing Matthew into a bigger venue and dif
ferent acting classes she was considering taking.

  The art gallery was small but tastefully appointed, taking care to make sure the paintings were the center of attention. There was already a crowd milling around, looking very downtown chic, when we arrived and Claire craned her neck to catch sight of Nathan after we checked our umbrella.

  "There he is," Claire announced, pointing out Nathan in the crowd. He was standing next to Mia and talking to a group of people excitedly with sweeping hand gestures.

  "Why don't we take a look around?" Jackson said. "Looks like Nathan's talking to some potential buyers."

  "I'll catch up with you guys later," Claire said. "I see a few of my friends over there."

  She disappeared into the crowd and Jackson and I maneuvered our way in the gallery to look at the paintings. I was impressed with Nathan's work. I didn't know much about art, but I could see the raw emotion in his paintings. They were mostly abstract, but they pulled you in with glimpses of something familiar. If you looked at them a certain way, you could catch a woman covering her face with her hands in distress, a haggard man staring back at you with empty eyes. It was powerful, disturbing, and completely fascinating.

  "What do you think?" Jackson asked as we moved from one painting to the next.

  "He's obviously really talented. I'm not big on abstract art, but when I look at his paintings, I realize that I'm not just looking at a few smudges of paint randomly splattered on the canvas. I'll see something real, like a man hunched over looking alone and desolate."

  Jackson grinned at my observation. "Nathan would love to hear that. He's always talking about his art not being for the critics but for real people. He always says that while he has an intention behind every painting, it's more important for the observer to decide what they see."

  "Right now, I see a gorgeous man who's about to get me a drink," I looked meaningfully at the bar.

  Jackson grinned. "Vodka tonic?"

  "Yes, please."

  As Jackson weaved through the crowd, I turned back to the painting we had been standing in front of. The canvas swirled with red and black brush strokes and I was staring at it, trying to glean what it meant, when I heard someone call my name.

  "Emma!" Nathan said as he approached with a huge grin. "I'm glad you could make it."

  He gave me a kiss on the cheek and Mia was right behind him, giving me a quick hug.

  "What do you think?" Nathan asked, sweeping his hand around the gallery.

  Mia rolled her eyes. "Nathan, stop fishing for compliments."

  I laughed at Nathan's affronted expression. "He doesn't need to fish for compliments. I was just telling Jackson that you're really talented. I don't know much about art, but I know that I feel something when I look at your paintings. It's amazing that I can feel desolation or fear from just a few brush strokes."

  Nathan beamed, looking beyond pleased at my compliment. Mia nudged me with her elbow, zeroing in on my mention of Jackson.

  "Where is Jackson, by the way?" she asked. She smiled at me slyly. "I hear you guys are spending a lot of time together."

  I flushed, wondering what Claire had told her. "We've spent some time getting to know each other. He's a great guy."

  Mia nodded eagerly. "He is. And I heard he's smitten."

  "Mia," Nathan said warningly with a frown. "You weren't supposed to say anything."

  Mia looked at Nathan guiltily. "Sorry. But I'm sure Emma already knows that." She turned back to me. "Right, Emma?"

  I cleared my throat, feeling a little embarrassed. "I guess."

  Jackson chose that moment to reappear with two drinks in his hands. I hoped he hadn't overheard our conversation.

  "Great show, Nathan," Jackson said in greeting. He grinned at Mia. "I'm glad you're here to make sure he doesn't sabotage potential sales." Jackson handed me my drink. "Once Nathan forbade someone from buying a painting because he was wearing penny loafers and a sweater tied around his shoulders."

  "Actually, we were just talking about you," Mia said with a mischievous smile. "I was just saying that I'm sure Emma already knows that you're smitten with her."

  Instead of being embarrassed, Jackson wrapped his arm around my waist, smiling down at me.

  "I think Emma, out of everyone, knows that."

  I was blushing furiously but I smiled faintly. "Let's concentrate on Nathan's show and not the state of Jackson's feelings towards me. Otherwise, I have a feeling I'll be drinking heavily tonight."

  Nathan nodded approvingly, grinning. "That's right. Let's bring the subject back to me."

  Fortunately, the topic did shift back to Nathan as we walked around the gallery and he told us a little about each painting. He was bombarded with people coming up to him and he handled it with ease, reveling in the attention.

  "He loves all the fawning, but he hates selling his paintings," Mia confided in me. We were standing next to Jackson and Nathan who were busy talking to a couple of guys that they knew. Jackson had introduced me, but I had become disinterested in their conversation about sports, so Mia and I had drifted into our own conversation. "He says it's like having to sell his children. I keep telling him that his 'children' are crowding our apartment and he needs to get rid of some of them."

  "I can imagine it would be tough to live with some of these paintings." Several were oversized and taller than I was. Mia had explained that Nathan used a spare bedroom in their apartment as a studio, but he had so many paintings that they were spilling into the rest of the apartment.

  We didn't see much of Claire during the showing. I caught glimpses of her talking to other people and she seemed to be having a good time. Once I turned to find her watching me, and I gave her a little wave. Instead of waving back, she frowned and turned around.

  "Claire can be moody as hell," Mia volunteered. I turned to her, not realizing she had witnessed the exchange. "Don't take it personally."

  "Really?" I asked, surprised. "She's been nothing but nice to me since I moved in, but sometimes I get an odd vibe from her."

  "Don't get me wrong, I like Claire," Mia said. "We've been friends for a while, but I've never been able to get really close to her. It's like she builds a barrier and doesn't let anyone see her true emotions. I've never seen her really happy and I've never seen her really sad. It's like she's always even-keeled. We're women-that's not possible!"

  I laughed at Mia's comment, but I understood what she meant. I often felt like Claire was watching everyone, silently assessing everything and tucking away her observations.

  Jackson reached over, pulling me next to him by my waist, and I forgot about Claire.

  "How are you doing?" he asked with a sweet smile.

  "Great! I'm having a good time."

  Jackson leaned down and kissed me softly. We had been like this all night and I was too happy to wonder if we were making a spectacle of ourselves. Our feelings were so new that it was hard to keep our hands off each other. We were constantly touching each other, stealing quick kisses, and forgetting about everyone else, the crowd fading away as we focused on each other.

  Unfortunately, I knew I had to get home at a decent hour so that I wasn't exhausted for work tomorrow.

  "I hate to end the night, but I should go home. Otherwise, I'm going to be dragging tomorrow."

  Jackson looked disappointed, but he didn't argue. I was happy he seemed to understand that I had to make work a priority. We said our goodbyes to Nathan and Mia and promised that we would get together soon. Jackson went to coat check to get his umbrella while I looked for Claire to tell her we were leaving. I found her at the bar and I made my way towards her.

  "Claire," I said, touching her arm to get her attention. "We're leaving now. Do you want to come with us?"

  Claire smiled, none of her earlier moodiness apparent. "You guys go ahead. I'm going to stay for a while."

  "Okay, but make sure to take a cab home. It's getting pretty late."

  "Yes, Mom," Claire said, grinning. "See you later."

 
Jackson hailed a cab when we got outside and we climbed inside, thankful that it had finally stopped raining. When we got to my apartment, Jackson paid the cab driver and got out as well.

  "Why aren't you taking the cab to your place?" I asked. I gave him a stern look. "Remember, I have to get up early tomorrow. As much as I'd like to, I have to make it an early night."

  Jackson wrapped his arms around me and I knew with a little convincing, I would relent and invite him upstairs. He gave me a long lingering kiss and I had to stop myself from asking him to come up with me so that I could strip him naked and explore his body with my tongue. My illicit thoughts when it came to Jackson never ceased to amaze me.

  "I'm so close, I'm just going to walk home. Besides, I didn't want the cab driver leering while I gave you a proper kiss goodnight."

  "I think I need another goodnight kiss. The first one barely registered," I lied with an impish smile.

  Jackson lifted his eyebrows but his eyes gleamed with the challenge. "I'll have to try harder then, I guess."

  He slowly brushed my lips with his, nipping at my bottom lip and sucking it gently into his mouth. He cradled my head between his hands and soon the kiss went from gentle to demanding. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, mimicking another act, letting me know what he was craving. I whimpered and wrapped my arms around his neck, pushing my breasts against his chest, my nipples aching to be touched.

  I barely registered the raindrops falling on us. All I could focus on was the heat of Jackson's mouth, his hands pushing my hips against his, letting me feel how much he wanted me. Our kiss was wild and out of control as we both strained to get as close to each other as possible, never feeling that we were close enough.

  Jackson broke the kiss first, breathing harshly and resting his forehead against mine.

  "It's raining," he rasped, stating the obvious. We were both getting soaked, but I couldn't seem to care at that moment. I looked up at Jackson's face, raindrops streaming down his face, his hair completely soaked, and I felt as happy as if it were a brilliantly sunny day.

  "I noticed," I replied wryly. I looked down at Jackson's empty hands. "Where's the umbrella?"