by Stella Rhys
Oh God.
I felt Jackson hardening in my grip as images of last night flashed through my mind. I couldn’t remember the car ride to Jake’s apartment but I did remember that it was short. He lived only blocks away, but walking would’ve been impossible for us.
I whipped my dress off the second I got into his duplex. I had been halfway up the staircase when he grabbed me from behind, his hands all over my body as he crushed a hot kiss against the back of my neck. I gasped for breath, buckling to my knees. My fingers gripped the ledge of the step above me and my heartbeat pulsed in my ears, joined by the sound of Jake’s clanking belt buckle. I stared at my scarlet manicure as I heard the crinkling of a condom behind me. From his pocket. It didn’t surprise me. I thanked God for it as he slid it on, his tongue drawing a wet, torrid line on my skin as his free hand reached around to cup my pussy.
“Good girl,” he panted in my ear as I grinded my hips against his palm, every nerve ending in my body on fire as I pleasured myself with his touch.
I’d already come by the time he yanked my panties down to my knees. The screaming pleasure was instant when he drove every inch of himself inside me, his thrusts immediately long, deep, so powerful that I felt myself unraveling. The pleasure that seared through me was unreal and somehow, it intensified by the second. I didn’t recognize the sounds that hurtled from my lips as he drilled into me. All I could do was hold on for dear life, my hands grasping for the stair up. I dug my nails into the wooden floor, my arms taut as Max plunged in and out of my soaking pussy, holding my body against his torso with two strong hands wrapped around my breasts.
The second orgasm ripped through my body so forcefully that I’d gone instantly limp. I moaned endlessly, delirious as Max came, his body jerking with every long, hot pump inside me.
It had been some of the best sex I’d ever had in my life. And I hated myself for dreaming about it all night while sleeping next to Jackson.
Fuck.
“Baby, you’re so wet,” Jackson murmured into my hair as he easily slid a finger inside me. A breathy whimper seeped from my lips. I held my breath when I felt his free hand form over mine. He slid my palm up and down, guiding it in slow strokes against his shaft until it felt like I was rubbing hot stone. “I need to put it in, Lara,” Jackson exhaled, wrapping an arm around my waist and bending me at the middle. But just as I felt the head of his cock at my opening, I tore away.
“Wait.” A pang of guilt flashed in my chest as I crawled hastily out of bed. Standing on my side of the mattress, I stared breathlessly at Jackson, who stared back with confusion until his morning grogginess faded. His blue eyes blinked twice before hardening into a glare. I assumed that he was recalling the fact that he’d gone to bed alone, that I hadn’t joined him until sometime past two in the morning.
“Right. Was it good?” he asked, stone-faced.
I was silent as I stood before him, trying to identify my feelings. Why did I feel such overwhelming shame? I had done exactly what Jackson had told me to do so we could resume some sort of functioning relationship. But a heavy guilt remained. Because you enjoyed it way too much, I told myself. Because you haven’t stopped thinking about him since you left Brooklyn. Not even in your sleep.
Shit.
Jackson broke the silence. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“No.”
With steely eyes, he stared for another second before ripping the sheets off his body and getting out of bed. “I have an important meeting at noon.”
I was thankful for the topic change. “With the other Monarch investors?”
“Someone else,” Jackson answered, his voice hard. “You need to meet him so get showered and dressed. We’re running late.”
Chapter Thirteen
I stared in disbelief at Jackson but he looked decidedly out the window as we turned onto Nineteenth Street. I couldn’t believe what he had just told me so casually, as if it weren’t extraordinary news. “Babe, how can you be so nonchalant about this? You do realize that I’ve never even met him before, right?”
We were on our way to meet Jacob, Jackson’s younger brother, who had flown into New York that morning – for the first time in five years.
The first night I’d met Jackson, he had been changing into one of Jacob’s tuxes. His new home gym had paid off in new muscle but had cost him money by rendering his wardrobe useless, too narrow for his new form. Luckily, he had, at his mother’s request, kept all of Jacob’s old tuxes.
“He doesn’t need them where he is,” Jackson had explained to me with a laugh.
“And where is he?”
“Australia, Morocco. He’s somewhere new every year but wherever he is, it’s definitely not New York, and he’s definitely not wearing a tux.”
Jackson was decidedly quiet about Jacob, so my knowledge of him was paltry. But over the years, I’d picked up more bits and pieces of information. He was in architecture and real estate, or something like that. I knew early on that Jacob had taken their father’s death particularly hard. He disliked the fact that his mother remarried so quickly and clashed instantly with their troubled stepsister, Audra. Jackson had also implied on a few occasions that Jacob had left at a disastrous time – a time when he had needed him most. But whenever I inquired about what he had needed him for, darkness clouded Jackson’s face and he reverted to the same reply every time: “He was my best friend for twenty years. I just wanted him around.”
It was too simple of an answer and I knew that there was much more to the story. But since meeting Jackson, neither Jacob nor Audra were very present in his life, so I didn’t ask. It was an obvious sore subject that reminded me of how I’d grown up hating my neighbors’ questions about where on Earth my sister had gone, so I kept my mouth shut. I was just happy to know that every once in awhile, Jackson went to visit Jacob in whichever exotic city he was living in, and that he always came back on a high, rambling on and on about Jacob’s boat and whatever water sports they’d done.
But every time, he’d go back to being quiet about him within days. “Please just drop it, Lara. It’s not going to happen,” he’d say whenever I asked if Jacob might visit New York next time around. It broke my heart. In our four years together, I started regarding Jacob Kinsley as a myth. A legend. Something I’d never live to see.
So it was a miracle for me to get into the car and hear the words, “We’re meeting Jacob for lunch. He flew into LaGuardia this morning.”
I smacked Jackson playfully on the arm. “Are you looking out the window to hide your excitement, you nerd?” I asked. I didn’t care that we’d been fighting just this morning. Jacob’s return called for all-around forgiveness so we could sooner celebrate the occasion. “Jackson! Stop pretending that you aren’t happy right now.”
“Lara,” his voice came back at me sternly. But when I leaned forward to look at him, I caught his smile. “Stop it,” he laughed when I gasped and cupped his jaw, facing him to me.
“Oh my God. You are so excited, Jackson Kinsley.”
He rolled his eyes, trying but failing to bite back a grin. “Yes, I’m very excited, Lara. Will you let go of my face now?”
I planted a big kiss on Jackson’s lips before letting him go. But I couldn’t help the big, dork grin on my face. We’d had a rough start on the morning but now I couldn’t be happier. Jacob’s arrival had given us reason to cheer about something. Together. It was a brief return to normalcy and I loved it. I was so ecstatic I actually bounced in my seat.
If only I knew that my joy would quickly come crashing down – harder than anything I’d ever felt in my life.
Chapter Fourteen
“Mr. Kinsley, we’ve already seated your guest at your table,” the bow-tied host at Broome Street Kitchen presented a dazzling smile before whisking us to our usual booth overlooking West Broadway.
The blood drained from my face when I saw who was already seated there.
Please, God, be kidding.
It was Max.
But I was reeling. Seated where my fiancé’s brother was supposed to be was the man who had fucked me on his floor less than twelve hours ago.
I white-knuckled the polished wood when his green eyes found me. I thanked God for the manager who swooped in to greet Jackson as his brother nearly dropped his Manhattan into his lap. Mouth parted, he stared at me.
I wanted to turn and run. How was this possible? I had seen pictures of Jacob Kinsley before. They were from his college days but wouldn’t I have recognized him still? He resembled Jackson. Their coloring was different – Jackson’s eyes were blue, not green and his hair blonde, not brown. But they did look like brothers.
“Babe,” Jackson called to me once he was done chatting with the manager. “What are you doing?”
“I – I tripped on a,” I looked down at my clear path, “thing.”
“Well, stop tripping on things and come here.”
I did as I was told, willing my heeled feet to move. My heart thumped when I caught Max – no, Jacob – looking down at my bare legs for a second before angrily ripping his eyes away, instead digging his stare into the table and pressing the end of his fist to his mouth. He looked angry and suddenly, so was I. If you had just told me your real name and shaved your beard before today, I would’ve known it was you, I decided as I approached the table.
“Alright, well since this moment is long past due,” Jackson started. True excitement stretched his lips as he gestured at the man who still had my panties from last night. “Lara, this is my brother, Jake. Jake, this is my fiancé, Lara.”
My gaze turned stiffly to Jake and I watched in slow motion as his expression went from contained fury to something passably cordial. He held out his hand – the hand that had brought me to orgasm last night on his stairs. “So nice to finally meet you, Lara,” Jake said, his cold eyes discordant with the friendly tone of his voice. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I turned on my gala charm. “All good things I hope,” I flashed a winning smile as I shook his hand. The sensation of our skin-on-skin made my knees feel weak.
“Babe,” Jackson laughed, watching my legs shake in my short Pucci dress. He put a hand on the small of my back and turned to Jake with a laugh. “Weights. We have a gym in the apartment and she likes to do kettlebells at night when she can’t sleep.”
That was true but obviously not for last night. My cheeks were on fire as Jake watched me slide into the booth.
“Strenuous exercise puts me to sleep too,” he said as he fixed his stare on me. “In fact, it’s the reason I slept so well last night.”
A flash of heat surged through my body. “Yeah… I love kettlebells,” I said lamely.
His emerald eyes seared into mine. “I’m more a fan of the stairs.”
Don’t. Fear prickled up my thighs and I glared at Jake as our server came tableside. I shook my head, silently pleading that he not. Please do not reference the fact that we had filthy, sweaty sex last night when I’m sitting right next to your brother, my fiancé. Please.
As Jackson ordered our usual drinks, I dared to mouth the word “stop” across the table. Jake sneered and shook his head at me. What the fuck? I may or may not have mouthed that to him as well. Thankfully, before he could respond, Jackson turned to him.
“What are you having, man? A Manhattan? Since when do you drink anything but beer?” he asked. When he put an arm around my shoulder, I joined him in smiling placidly at Jake, waiting for an answer. But my heart was pounding like a hammer.
“I don’t know. I met a girl who drank them and it kind of stuck.”
Jackson grinned. “She must’ve been pretty smoking hot to stand out to you. Remind me – how many girls do you take home a week? Anywhere between ten and twenty, right?”
My cheeks burned as Jake laughed that low, sexy laugh. “Ballpark. But yes, she was smoking hot. Definitely way too hot to be single.” His accusing gaze slid back to me. “But who knows. Maybe she lied about that.”
Jackson snorted. “Yeah, well. That’s not your problem.”
I saw Jake’s cheek flex before he offered a laugh. “Guess not.”
“I’d ask you for more details but you know,” Jackson smirked and nodded at me, “don’t want to offend Princess here. And you know, girls hate having to hear about other girls.”
Anger flared in my nostrils as I cast Jackson a look. “That’s not true at all. I’m a grown woman so by all means,” I turned to Jake, “tell us all about the girl you met.”
Jake glared at me. I knew I was veering into dangerous territory but I was angry, resentful of the way he was looking at me. As if I were a monster. As if I were solely to blame. Oblivious, Jackson grinned.
“She’s pretending to be cool with it so go for it before she changes her mind,” he said. “What’d this girl look like? Was she good?”
Jake laughed. I could see fury twitching in his lip, his nostrils, but he kept it well masked as he took a drink. “She was beautiful,” he finally said. “And she was easily the best I’ve ever had.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jackson laughed. “Then she must’ve had the tightest pussy on planet Earth. If you aren’t a fucking liar then you should’ve gotten on one knee right then and there, man. I mean if she was the best out of all the women you’ve had in your life, then fuck. Marry that girl and ask questions later.”
Jake looked at me. “Something tells me that wouldn’t be able to happen.”
At that point, I gripped the edge of the table. “Jackson – can you let me out?” I nodded out of the booth, losing my breath. I needed air, to be somewhere else. Jackson groaned, handing me my phone, which just happened to be ringing – Sloane.
“Sure, but try to cut her off after a few minutes. We have company, Lara.”
“I will,” I agreed hastily, taking my phone as I climbed out.
But outside the restaurant, leaning against the brick wall, I hit ‘Ignore.’ My throat had been closing since I spotted Jake. I was in no mood to talk to anyone. I had half a mind to hail the next cab I saw and go home. I couldn’t handle another minute of this absolute nightmare.
“Tara.”
I jumped when I heard Jake’s voice next to me. My body stiffened when I turned to see him walking toward me in a simple grey V-neck and jeans, similar to the outfit he’d been wearing last night. I hated the fact that he looked so good. It made it hurt all the more as he stared at me with a look of contempt.
“Look, I wasn’t the only one lying last night – Max. And what’s this about you flying in just this morning?”
“I needed a week to myself before all the madness started and as far as I know, my lie was nothing compared to yours.”
“Look – I am very sorry that I put you in a terrible position by picking you of all people that night, but trust me, you don’t know the half of what’s going on between me and your brother right now so please, spare me of the judgment.”
“I’m sorry, but that might be difficult considering you’re fucking engaged,” Jake hissed, closing the gap between us. “As in about to get married, so what the hell are you doing going home with me? Do you have any idea how much Jackson fucking loves you? I never met you before today but I can assure you, I’ve known every last detail about you since the day you met my brother at Sofie Winter’s party. He talks about you constantly – he’s fucking crazy about you.”
My anger mounted. “You’re right. He’s so fucking crazy about me that he cheated on me with Sofie’s nineteen-year-old daughter,” I shot back, my lip curling with satisfaction as Jake literally backed down, his tight shoulders falling a couple inches. He stared at me.
“What?”
Before I could answer, the bow-tied host peeked his head out of the restauran
t. The smile he directed at me faltered a bit when he spotted Jake at my side. “Oh. Um, Mr. Kinsley requested that I come out and find you, Miss Pierce. He said that your drinks are ready.”
I managed a polite smile back, thanking him before he disappeared back into the restaurant. I walked ahead of Jake. “Don’t come back at the same time.”
“Hold on.” He started after me. “Jackson slept with Gabrielle Winter?”
I cut my eyes at Jake, grabbing the brass handle of the front door. “Yes. And in case you haven’t heard, she’s been missing for the past three months,” I muttered before returning inside.
Chapter Fifteen
I was beyond happy to leave Jackson alone with Jake after our lunch in SoHo. Through our faked pleasantries, I could see that Jake was dying to get me alone again – dying to hear more of what I’d told him outside. But all I wanted was to go home, crawl into bed and hug my pillow while contemplating whether or not to tell Sloane.
“That’s fine, go home, babe. Jake and I have a lot of catching up to do. And we’ll probably be out late,” he squeezed my waist. “We haven’t gone out together in ages.”
I managed something of a smile. “You boys have fun then.” As he whispered a sweet goodbye in my ear, I stared past his shoulder at Jake. He didn’t glare anymore, or look at me with anger. His green eyes glinted, staring intently at me with a look I couldn’t read. My lips parted as I gazed back, Jackson’s hand all the while sliding down to my backside. I flinched, closing my eyes for the second that he gave my ass a firm squeeze.
When I opened them again, I saw Jake’s lip curl before he turned on his heel to start walking away.
~
I still couldn’t escape the thought of Jake when I got home, so in hopes of distracting myself, I invited the girls over for some wine and trashy reality TV. It was Sloane, Emily Rocha and her younger sister, Piper, best known in our circle for her racy underwear ads, which graced billboards in both SoHo and Times Square.