by Leger, Lori
“Too late,” he murmured. “Newton’s third law …”
“What?” She sounded confused.
“For every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction.”
She looked down at his significant reaction. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. This is the best dream I’ve ever had.”
She used one hand to pat his chest. “Not a dream.”
“Then it’s the best morning I’ve ever had.” He pulled her close. “Good morning beautiful. How’d you sleep?”
“Good, once I finally fell asleep. What time is it?”
He hit the backlight button on his watch. “6:05. When will the kids be back?”
“Late this afternoon. I haven’t spoken to them since yesterday morning.” She stretched slowly and sensuously next to Jackson, raising her arms and arching her back.
“Mmmm. You stretch like a cat. A long, sleek, sexy cat.”
“You think I’m sexy?”
He groaned deep in his throat then pulled her knee to its former position, where the evidence still existed.
“Hmmm …” she purred.
“Uh huh.” He removed her knee again. “So, does this mean we’re ready to ‘come out’ in the light of day yet?”
She bit her bottom lip. “Jackson, when’s the last time you lived in a small town?”
“Never, but I hope to one day.” Kenton seemed like the perfect place to live.
“Let me tell you something about small towns. Word gets around fast and gossips can be ruthless and cruel.”
“I don’t think small towns have cornered the market on gossip, hon.”
“I know, but it happens quicker. Adults talk, and kids overhear, and then kids talk. As cruel as adults can be, that’s nothing compared to how cruel children can be. How would you feel if the child of some gossip went to school and said something to upset Lex or Mac? Something like ‘My mom said that your mom shouldn’t be dating already because your daddy hasn’t been dead a year yet.’”
“Kids aren’t that mean, are they?”
“Children don’t understand how badly they’re hurting someone. Believe me, Jackson. I’ve seen it.”
“Okay, we’ll be discreet, if that’s what you want.”
“Thank you. Now, I don’t know about you, but I need coffee.” She got up from the sofa. “Are you hungry? I’ll cook breakfast.”
“I’m starving. You mind if I take a quick shower first?”
“Not at all. How does bacon and eggs sound?”
“Like heaven.” He kissed her then went to get his bag.
Twenty minutes later, Jackson entered the kitchen, freshly shaved and showered. “Mm, smells good in here.”
“Sit down, here’s your coffee, and here’s your breakfast.” She set down a plate of crispy bacon and scrambled eggs.
“Thanks, I’m starving.”
Giselle sat beside him at the table, glad to have someone to share a leisurely breakfast with on a Sunday morning. The talk was casual and comfortable as they finished off breakfast and two cups of steaming coffee. “You know, the girls only have two more weekends before school starts.”
“Already? This summer flew by, didn’t it?” He stopped to gaze down at her curiously. “It’s strange for me. I haven’t had any means of measuring summer vacations since I graduated from college.”
“I can see that. It doesn’t really mean anything unless you’re in school or have kids who are.”
“Especially when you’ve spent over a decade avoiding any vacations, summer or otherwise, like the plague.”
Giselle pulled her mouth down in an exaggerated pout. “Poor baby. We’ll see what we can do about that.”
He leaned over for a quick kiss. “You do that,” he said, giving her butt a light tap. “Now, go get ready. I’ll clean up because you did the cooking.”
Giselle used the opportunity to change her clothes and apply a little make up. She fixed her hair and finished with a light spray of perfume. She entered the kitchen, finding Jackson standing at the counter watching the slideshow on the digital picture frame. She approached from behind and slipped her arms around his waist.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “I love these shots.”
“I took those the day before he died.” Giselle reached out to touch the frame.
“You, Carrie, and I worked late on that turn lane project,” he said. “I remember.”
“I came home and asked Lexie where her daddy was. She said he was ‘outside burning the steaks’ like it was the most natural thing in the world.”
Jackson’s low chuckle resonated. “The girls have wonderful memories of him, but it’s up to the rest of us to make sure they keep them.”
Giselle smiled. “They had him all dressed up like a princess. God, it seems like an eternity ago.” She studied one particular photo and laughed. “He looked good in that pink feather boa, didn’t he?”
“He sure did.” Jackson turned to gaze down at her. “I miss him too, you know.” She nodded and he kissed the tip of her nose. It was an intimate gesture in front of the most recent snapshots of Toby. “Are you okay with this?” He gestured at the photo frame.
“The more I look at these, the easier it is. I was lucky once, and maybe I’ll get lucky again.” She smiled up at him.
Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, paused, as though contemplating the situation before speaking his mind. “Do you think someday I could be a part of this family?”
She relaxed against the kitchen cabinet and pulled him closer. “I think it’s possible. Does that scare you?”
He leaned in for a kiss. “Not even a little.”
She kissed him in return then pulled away. “It should, you know; with three women in the house, you’ll be out numbered. Not to mention the fact that in about seven years, you’ll have to deal with three different sets of PMS symptoms—all that crankiness and mood swings.” She twisted her face into a grimace.
He nibbled on her neck. “Fortunately for you, I’ve been preconditioned to crankiness and mood swings.”
She reached up, put her arms around his neck. “Yes, I guess you have.” She inched her body as close to his as possible, wondering about their potential relationship. Giselle slipped her hands under his T-shirt to explore the soft, silky matting of fine black hair on his chest and lower abdomen. She splayed her hands on his highly defined abs, and gently traced the ridges and hard planes of his torso.
Nestling her face into the contours of his neckline, she tasted him with her tongue. He groaned low in his throat when she scraped his skin lightly with her teeth.
“You’re making me crazy.” He pulled away and she closed her eyes as he treated her to the same tenderness, tasting her, then lightly biting and nipping until she shivered.
“You see?” His breath was whisper soft against her neck.
She nodded, unable to speak, barely able to breathe.
He slipped his arms around to massage her back then moved his hands under her shirt to feel the soft skin of her sides and belly. She inhaled sharply at the touch and pulled him to her for a kiss, wanting more of him as his hands inched closer to her breasts. When he pulled away to bury his mouth on her neck, she was primed and ready for his touch. She moaned when his lips touched her hot skin, gasped as his fingertips brushed the décolletage of her lace bra. She let her head fall back as he brushed the back of his hands up the sides of her breasts.
“Jackson,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please.”
“Please, what? I don’t know how far I can go.” He pulled her roughly to him as she nearly sobbed in frustration. “I want you, Giselle, but I don’t know if you’re ready.”
“Jackson. Please.” She ached with need.
“Tell me what you want, hon. What can I do?”
“Please,” she begged again, unsure how to ask him to do what she wanted him to do. “Hold me. Touch me.”
He unbuttoned her shirt with trembling fingers then stood, as though contemplating what to
do next. When she reached up to unhook her front bra closure, he covered her hands with his own, stopping her.
“Not yet,” he said, giving her a slow shake of his head. “Not here. And not now.” He cupped her breasts softly and began stroking the pads of his thumbs over the thin fabric covering her nipples. He rubbed in small circular motions, increasing the pressure.
In turns, Giselle mewled, panted with need, then groaned from the pleasure of having Jackson’s hands on her. She arched her back to be more accessible to his tender touches. Jackson bent low, placed both hands under her thighs, and lifted her easily so that she rested on the counter top. He opened her legs and stepped between them. His hardness was right up against her heated core.
Giselle wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him to her, demanding more. “Jackson,” she moaned, desperate for some form of relief.
In response, he pulled her hips closer, grinding against her, thrusting his own hips forward. He kissed her, smothering her moans as he continued the circular motion with his thumb on her nipple, and grinding into her heat. Within moments, Giselle cried out with her release. He continued the motions, bringing her down slowly. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth with a furious need.
Giselle reciprocated, reached out to unbutton his shorts.
“No,” he pulled away, gasping, moved her hands.
“But you need—” she began.
“Not like this,” he said, cutting her off, his voice hoarse with need. “That was only for you.”
“But Jackson …”
He gave his head a shake. “I’m fine.” He trembled with the effort it took to control himself. “Or I will be in a few minutes. Just give me a few minutes,” he gasped.
Giselle took his face in her hands and kissed him. She brushed back the hair from his dampened forehead and rested her head against his. “Jackson,” she whispered.
They stayed in that position until they both came down from the sexual, emotional roller coaster ride. Until his breathing returned to normal. He pulled away, drinking in the sight of her, shaking his head slowly, his eyes warm with emotion. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, buttoning her shirt, adjusting her collar.
She laid her head on his chest, still able to feel the pounding of his heart. “I hate that you didn’t get to—”
“Don’t worry about me,” he cut in. “I’m a big boy.”
She glanced down at his package. “That, you are, Jack, and I have to admit, it’s got me looking forward to—things.”
“You should be. I promise, when the time is right for us, I won’t disappoint you.” He wiped the sweat from his brow again. “Until then, I see numerous cold showers in my future.”
The shrill ring of the landline made them both jump. Giselle answered, shared a brief conversation then hung up. “That was Gretchen. They’ll be home around 3:00. So, what do we do until then?”
Jackson wiped at his brow again. “Anything that gets us the hell out of here. Any ideas?”
She nodded. “Let’s go get the bike.”
He nibbled on her ear. “The sooner, the better.”
“Give me a minute.” She pulled away from him.
“Hey, bring your swimsuit.” He grinned at her questioning look.
“I don’t do rivers or lakes.” She shook her head. “I hate snakes, and the thought of fish nibbling on my toes freaks me out.”
“Just get your suit,” he said, laughing.
They drove to Jackson’s house, traded the Avalanche for the Indian, and rode for two hours. Around eleven, he turned into Bill’s driveway and pulled up to the house. He unlocked the front door and ushered her inside.
Bill’s home was a rambling log cabin style home, rustic looking on the outside. One step inside told her the home’s interior was full of comforts and amenities. She surveyed their surroundings, her gaze landing on the huge leather sofas, either of which would make for a tantalizing setting for hot and bothered sex with Jackson. “This place is gorgeous, Jackson, but why are we here?”
“You’ll see.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the back door onto the patio area. There was another huge building to the rear of the home, with several windows along each exterior wall. He unlocked the building and led her inside. Giselle stood in awe of the huge indoor pool. The entire room was set up for entertaining and comfort, with several round tables surrounded by chairs, chaise loungers placed around all four sides of the pool, and several huge potted plants placed throughout the room, giving it a tropical feel. “I’m amazed. I had no idea this was here.”
“When he bought the place the pool was here already. He decided if he was going to have one, he wanted to be able to use it year round. He had this built several years ago when he used to do a lot of entertaining for his oil company. Pre-retirement era. He swims every morning to keep in shape.”
“Now that you mention it, he did tell me he swam laps every day. It never dawned on me that he had his own pool. Is it heated during the winter?”
“It’s the same temp year round. You ready to swim?”
In seconds, Giselle had shimmied out of her shorts and slipped off her halter top. She stepped out of her sandals and dove in. She popped up and swam to the side. “The temperature’s perfect. You coming in?”
“Be there in a minute.” Jackson came out of the bathroom a few minutes later wearing his trunks and carrying two large towels. He walked to a corner of the room, pushed some buttons and country music played from a built-in stereo system.
Giselle was busy treading water as she watched him walk with deliberate slowness toward her. What the hell was he waiting on? Jackson stopped to pull the drawstring on his trunks then re-tied it. She kept her eyes on the two pads of muscle just above each hipbone where the trunks were hanging kind of low. One of her college roommates had a name for those pads. A little on the loose side, the girl had called it the “Make me stupid love handles”. Obviously, it had. By the end of freshman year, she’d dropped out, pregnant and unmarried. Giselle had to admit that if she’d seen anything like this, she might have gone a little over the edge herself. God knows, she wanted to right now.
She lifted her gaze to his luscious abs and shoulders, all freshly bronzed from the previous day of fun in the sun at Red’s. Their gazes met and she noticed the sparkle of hidden laughter in his eyes. So big boy wanted to play, did he?
She swam to the ladder and climbed out, swinging her hips seductively as she walked over to the diving board. She placed one delicate foot carefully in front of another, taking her sweet time to walk over to the end of the board. She glanced at him. He was every bit as captivated by watching her as she had been by watching him. She steadied herself then took several good bounces, cut a flip in the air, and sliced smoothly into the water.
The second Giselle hit the water, Jackson must have too, diving headfirst into the opposite end.
She broke the surface, wiped the water out of her eyes, and looked around, unable to spot him. He surfaced silently behind her making her gasp as he pulled her close. Giselle turned in his arms, looped her arms around his neck as he treaded water. He kissed her on the nose then dipped his head to kiss her deeply as their tongues did the exploring.
Jackson pulled back, admiring the woman in his arms. Her lids were half closed with desire. “God, you’re beautiful.”
She barely managed a whispered, “Thank you.”
He kissed her again, and they sank as he lost concentration and forgot to tread water. Neither of them broke the kiss, but continued until he brought them back up to the surface. He side paddled to the edge of the pool where he could hang on and kiss her without having to work so hard. They became lost in each other, their hands all over one another until he finally forced himself to stop. “We have to slow this down,” he groaned, “or I won’t be able to.”
“I don’t want to slow down. I don’t want you to stop.”
“What …”
“Ma
ke love to me,” she whispered, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips and pulling him close for a kiss.
With effort, he pulled back. “We can’t take this back. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she panted.
“Yes. Giselle. Oh God, yes,” he groaned as he buried his face in her neck and pulled her close.
Her breath came in short pants as she spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Make love to me, Toby.”
Jackson’s world came to a halt—a screeching, ice water down the front of his pants, knee to the groin halt—to put it mildly. He swore his heart skipped two full beats before starting up again at the pace and strength of a jackhammer. When she moved in for another kiss, obviously unaware of her slip, he put her at arm’s length and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I’m sorry, hon, but we can’t do this right now.” He avoided her gaze, didn’t want her mistaking anything she saw there for rejection. She didn’t call him by her dead husband’s name to hurt him. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. It was too damn soon for this.
“What? Why? What’s wrong?”
“It’s too soon,” he explained patiently, climbing out of the pool to grab a towel. He didn’t blame her for the innocent slip. Far from it.
She followed him out of the pool. Grabbed her own towel. “No, we need to talk.”
“Giselle, for God’s sake-just drop it,” he pleaded.
“No! Why did you change your mind? We’re both adults.”
He knew she wouldn’t drop it. Toby always said a bulldog had nothing on his wife when she was determined. The thought made his stomach lurch uncomfortably. Would he always think of her as Toby’s wife? More importantly, would she?
He took a deep breath and braced himself. “You called me Toby.”
“What? No. I didn’t. Y-you must have misunderstood.”
He turned to meet her gaze head on. “No way did I misunderstand the words ‘Make love to me, Toby’.”