“Or you might determine that you’re better off together after your time apart and live happily ever after.”
“Happily ever after,” I repeat, but my mind isn’t on Xavier McCormack, my mind’s on another guy and the possibility of us deciding we’re better off together after our time apart. Are Jackson and I capable of a happily ever after when we’ve been through so much?
“It’s Hollywood, sweetheart, anything can happen.”
I’m listening to dead air a moment later when Meredith ends the call without warning. I sigh and drop my phone on the counter, starting as a low voice cuts through the air.
“You know, I offer a discount for referrals.”
I spin to find Jax standing in the kitchen, handsome and sure in his standard jeans and tee. He stopped by to check that everything was finished with the remodel, including the freshly dried paint on the newly repaired hole in the walk-in closet that Daryl fixed yesterday.
“If you need a remodeled closet or kitchen, let me know.” In a reverse situation from yesterday, Jax overheard too much.
“That was my agent.”
“I figured.”
“To your point, I hate my closet. Do you solicit work in L.A.?”
“I’m sure you can find someone closer who’ll do just as good of a job.” He regards me sternly.
“I don’t know about that. You seem to be a singular experience, Jackson Burke.” I push off the counter and close the gap between us, clutching his waist with my hands and tipping my chin to look up at him. “It’s not all for publicity and show. I just said that to get her off my back.”
“You don’t have to explain to me, Mini. You have to do what you have to do.”
“I don’t want you to think you don’t mean anything,” I mumble. What I want is for him to see through me. I want him to challenge me.
He doesn’t.
“I take it the second half of that conversation involves Xavier?” he asks, his voice tight.
If there was ever an opportunity to lose the chance of a kiss, bringing up Xavier does it. I let go of Jax and sigh. “Meredith wants a reconciliation. I have an audition I’m thinking of skipping.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“You don’t want the show?” he guesses, proving it isn’t obvious. I’m set up to tell him the truth. That I don’t want to go to the audition because I don’t want to reenter the fishbowl. I don’t want to reconcile with Xavier. For one reason.
“I kind of want to keep hiding out,” I tell him like a big chicken.
“And what? Get a career in sales here in Columbus? Go back to business school?”
“Why not?”
He startles me with a laugh. “Allie, you hated those classes. The only reason you did it was because your parents wanted you to find what they believed was a ‘good, steady job.’ ”
I remember those words well. They were trumpeted throughout my formative years, especially when I expressed more than a passing interest in theater.
“Maybe I’m cut out for a ‘good, steady job.’ Maybe they were right.” I’m being indignant not so much about a job—which honestly sounds horrible—but about how Jax makes it sound like I don’t fit into his world. And his comment about my closet in L.A. is an unwelcome reminder that he doesn’t fit into mine, either.
“No. They were wrong.” His eyebrows are a pair of angry slants. “You think I’m going to let you give up on your dream? Talk to Catarina. Have her write an article that clears your name. Fuck Xavier and Millie.”
“It’s not that simple. The public will think I’m trying to get them to like me again.”
“Aren’t you?”
“They’ll say I turned on Xavier. He’ll come out with a statement of denial and who do you think they’ll believe?”
“Who cares who they believe?”
“Everyone in that damn town who will pass on the opportunity to hire me!” I practically shout.
Unfazed, Jax leans closer and growls, “You’re braver than this.”
I blanch at the accusation for two reasons. One, he’s right. I’m braver than handing my life over to an agent and an ex-boyfriend with questionable morals. Two, Jax is also right about the fact that I’m sidestepping a land mine. The truth that he’s daring me to tell is what really happened the night Millie’s Oscar was photographed in my arms. Another truth—the one that he has no idea I want to admit—is that I’ve fallen in love with him.
Head over heels. Ass over teakettle. Gone with the Wind, fallen for him.
And as I’m peering up at his angry expression, his tense posture, and his delicious mouth, I’m faced with another awful truth.
While I was falling for him, he wasn’t returning the favor.
Chapter 23
“You’re the girl who went to California to live with an aunt she barely knew,” Jax continues. “You stepped onto that soundstage as an extra and conquered those viewers. They fell in love with you, Allie.”
My heart stumbles, wishing he’d have phrased that differently. One little word would’ve made all the difference.
“You’re still that girl. Go back home, audition for the show, and watch them fall all over themselves again. Xavier’s a dick. Everyone knows it. You know it.”
He tips my chin, his voice gentling as he looks deep into my eyes.
“You didn’t sleep with him for a reason.”
I slept with Jackson for another reason. I thought it was because we couldn’t resist each other, but here he is, resisting me just fine.
“Ready for me to head back already?” I try teasing, knowing I’m being a sad sack, feeling it in the slump of my shoulders. I didn’t mean to fall in love with him again. And he’s being so damn encouraging and has done nothing but give me what I need. How can I ask any more of him? Even with an “I love you” crowding my throat, I can’t say it. I can’t do that to him. He has a life here and I should be supportive of his dreams and desires, too.
Even if they don’t include me.
“You’ve got this, gorgeous.” He places a succinct kiss on my mouth. “Anyway, I’m done here.”
He gestures to the house in general, but I wonder if I’m included in that wave. He’s done here, and also with me.
“My parents are due home tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“I’ll spend a few days with them and then…” I shrug, wanting Jax to fill in the blank for me. He does, but not in the way I wanted.
“Back to being famous, wearing Michael Keith, and signing autographs.”
“You know me,” I say like it’s a brush-off. But he does know me. Like no one else. Better than my Mom and Dad. Certainly better than the plastic people I’ve grown to know in L.A. I mentally kick myself for including my co-workers in that mix. I really do love Laur, Shan, and Kate. And the crew. And that show. Why did it have to end?
“Want to go out tonight?” Jax interrupts my thoughts.
He’s another aspect of my life that’s ending before I want it to.
“Your place for pizza?” I’ve been over at his house countless times over the last week-plus. Our dates are more lounging around with each other in easy comfort before taking it to the sheets and burning through our pent-up sexual frustration. I thought we’d have fizzled out by now, but I want him still. Must be that love thing.
“I was thinking Cooper’s.”
I blink up at him. He mentioned a while back that if we were on a real date he’d take me to Cooper’s, where he’d taken that Kim girl. I should say no. Say no, and not give in to the worry that he might turn me down with a kiss at the end of the night. But…somehow I don’t think so. I imagine we’ll kiss and then go back to his place and then have amazing, incredible sex.
“I’d love to,” I tell him.
He kis
ses me, a lengthy pull of his lips on mine. When I grab hold of him to make out some more, my heart joins my arms in wrapping around him. I am so screwed.
“See you tonight. I’ll pick you up.”
I nod, wanting that to be good news. For the reasons I’ve mentally listed above, it’s not. Not when I know what tonight is.
It’s good-bye.
* * *
—
Jax insisted on picking me up. When he knocks on the door, I stand from the sofa where I’ve been waiting for him. I’ve been ready for over thirty minutes. My red high heels were pinching my toes, so I stopped pacing in favor of flipping through an issue of Real Simple magazine. It was time well spent. I now know how to properly fold a fitted sheet.
I pull open the door, prepared to tease Jax about knocking when he could’ve just walked in, but the words don’t come.
He’s in a suit.
Like. A suit.
Dark slacks, a button-down shirt with the collar sexily open and exposing his lickable throat. A jacket. A shiny black belt and shoes to match. He’s holding a bouquet of red roses and the blooms are open the perfect amount.
“Allison.” His lips curve at the corner, moving his freshly trimmed facial hair in the most tantalizing way. His hair is styled back, the longish bits smooth against his head, but one stubborn lock falls over his forehead when he leans down to kiss me hello.
The gentle kiss is paired with him cupping my elbow and then a full-body scan of the red slip of a dress I slinked to do the door wearing. It’s sleeveless, with straps crisscrossing at my back and a skirt that’s both short and full, kicking out whenever the slightest breeze catches it.
And I can tell by the twinkle in Jackson’s eyes that he approves of the choice.
“I’m not hungry for food anymore,” he tells me. Then he clears his throat and gestures to the kitchen. “Want me to put these in water?”
“Sure.” I turn and we walk down the hallway, and I’m acutely aware of his presence. The sound of his steps in his dressy shoes. The shift of his suit jacket against his crisp ironed shirt.
Did he iron that shirt?
I lapse into a fantasy of him standing shirtless with a hot iron, sweeping it over the wrinkles in the material before giving it a shake and shrugging it over his big shoulders.
Purr. Domestic Jax is the best fantasy ever.
I hand over a crystal vase. “Is this big enough?”
“Should do it.” He takes care of the flowers for me, utilizing kitchen shears to trim the stems at an angle and arranging them in a vase filled halfway with water. I watch his capable hands handle the delicate flowers, witness the deep concentration on his face. Suddenly, I’m not hungry for food, either. I’m hungry for him.
“Our reservations are—”
I grab the lapels of his jacket and yank his mouth to mine, cutting off his words. He recovers quickly and follows my lead, scooping me against him and kissing the life out of me.
His hand travels to my butt and he cups the cheeks before slipping under the dress and discovering the tiny scrap of a thong beneath it.
A rough, male groan comes from his throat and I press my breasts against his chest as something hard and mouthwatering stirs below his belt.
His tongue tangles with mine as we back through the kitchen. His hand catches the countertop to keep me from colliding with it as he deepens our kiss. He’s always looking out for me.
I wreck his carefully styled hair with my careless fingers, inhaling the clean leather-citrus cologne and soapy scent of him. It’s so uniquely Jackson that every time I smell it in the future I know I’ll think of him.
He cups my ass and lifts, depositing me on the counter and sweeping his hands over my ribs to hold my breasts. Then his mouth is moving down my throat, over my collarbone. I tilt my head back, letting him devour me, my hair ticking down my back as it slides over my shoulders.
He fumbles with my dress for a few futile seconds before reaching for the kitchen shears and snipping one of the straps in half. I gasp, shocked, but his grin beckons me to join him in this game.
And so I do.
He tosses the shears aside and yanks down my dress, pulling my nipple deep into his mouth as I wrap my legs around his waist and hug him closer. He’s between my thighs, that insistent part of him brushing my dampening panties. He moves to my other breast, leaving a trail of whisker burn over my sensitized skin.
“Jax.” I don’t even know what was going to follow that. I just needed to say his name aloud. Remind myself that this is what love should feel like. This is what I’ve been missing during a ten-year drought. Loving Jax.
“Please,” I try again, but I don’t have to explain. He knows what I’m begging for. He unbuckles his belt and opens his pants. He pulls his cock out, heavy and thick, and gives it one long, slow stroke. It’s the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen. Seriously. It’s a work of art.
Untangling my legs from his waist, I push on his chest, amused when his eyebrows lower in confusion.
“I need a taste of that,” I tell him. “More than you know.”
His eyes go dark with want. So much of it, I feel powerful.
“You do?” His voice is slow and unsure. He hasn’t wrapped his head around that offer for one very good reason.
We’ve never done that together.
I was a good girl and had it in my head that blowing him was a thing that dirty girls did. I don’t believe that any longer, by the way. I believe it’s one of the most romantic acts a couple can share—especially for him. I hadn’t thought about us not doing that until now. He’s concerned with taking care of me, and he’s probably assumed I’m the same Allie from when we were in college. Back when there were lines drawn and that was one of them.
“Couch,” I instruct, pointing to the adjoining living room. Newfound power surges through my limbs.
He lifts me into his arms and races to the adjoining room so quickly I burst into a fit of laughter.
By the time we’re on the couch with me on his lap, I’ve sobered. Another long bout of kissing and I’m pushing him to his back and undoing the buttons on his shirt one at a time.
He sucks in a tortured breath as I kiss my way down his beautiful, bare chest. Then I place one more kiss under his belly button, wrap my hand around his penis and send him a flirty wink.
Chapter 24
Allie’s mouth wraps around the tip of my dick and I nearly come right then. Eyes squeezed tight, I try to picture walking the aisles of Lowe’s to keep from being too turned on. But when I start thinking of words like “wood” and “screws,” it sounds kinky. Along with drilling and nailing and…
“Ah, fuck,” I breathe as she takes me deep. Deep, deep.
I’ve never had her mouth wrapped around my most favorite appendage before, and as a result I’m having trouble categorizing what’s happening. I want to come, but I also never want it to end. I also don’t want to come because I want to fuck her from behind on this couch while she screams my name. While I hoist that sexy dress over her perfect round ass and bang us both home.
Crass, I know. But I’m getting blown at the moment and there’s not a clean thought it my head.
She cups my balls and gently plays with them.
Involuntarily, my hips lift off the couch. “Allie.”
She hums, sending that vibration up my spine and exploding the synapses in my brain. I don’t know how I do it, but I grip my dick and palm her cheek, drawing out of her wet warmth.
She licks her lips and then smiles prettily. The cocky tilt of one eyebrow isn’t lost on me as I sit up and reverse our positions with her on her back and me hovering over her, every drop of blood in my body throbbing in one place.
“I don’t want to know where you learned how to do that.” My voice is little more than a growl, and now that I have that smile paired
with her attention and those beautiful eyes on mine, I decide that this is the position we’re going to finish in.
“Keep those eyes on me, Allie. I want to watch the exact moment you come.”
She doesn’t argue as I tilt my hips and nudge her entrance, belatedly remembering the condom. I quickly apologize, pat my pockets for my wallet and roll it on in record time. I didn’t bother taking off my pants as I’m only slightly restricted by the waist of them hitting my thighs.
Allie’s a hot, delicious mess. Her perfect hair is mussed in the pattern of my roving fingertips while she was blowing me and blowing my mind at the same time. Her dress is sliced apart and who knows what it cost. She didn’t take me to task for ruining it and that’s just one of the reasons I love her.
I freeze, my brain blanking, my heart lodging firmly in my throat as the thought occurs.
I love her.
“Jax? I’m ready. Come on,” she encourages from beneath me, assuming that I’m frozen over her because I’m worried I’m too big or that she’s not properly lubed enough to accept me.
My eyes track back to hers and I sink deep inside her. I’ve already sunk deeper than I should’ve in another way. The heart-and-soul way.
Fuck. Rookie move.
She didn’t leave a single whole part of me when we broke up over the phone years ago. I’ve been in denial, which is my chosen armor for this particular situation. I’ve also been an idiot if I thought that I could be around her every day, sleep with her almost every day, and escape intact.
Truth? I don’t think I’ve been intact for a long time.
We’re joined in the most intimate dance possible and it’s like…
Fine. I’ll say it. It’s like coming home. I can’t believe I’m thinking that but there it is. It’s like being reunited with a chunk of myself that I haven’t been able to find. A chunk I didn’t know I was looking for until this moment.
I rest my head on hers as I drive deep, wanting to be able to lose myself in the act of sex. The raw, dirty, non-romantic kind. I’m dying to return to thoughts of her red mouth and round ass. Yearning for the kinky, blurry black-and-white moments rather than the flowery, sentimental full Technicolor one we’re participating in now.
America's Sweetheart Page 16