by K. C. Crowne
"I just thought I'd come over to update you on the storm," he said, not wanting to pry. "It looks to be a really bad one. Possibly the worst on record. They're even talking about cancelling the Roxi Lane concert."
"No!" I cried. "I'm going to that."
"Not if the storm's as bad they say it is."
Jackson rolled his eyes and leaned toward the guy.
"Sheriff, there's no need to worry. The TV folk are probably just sexing the storm up in the news to get extra ratings. It'll be nothing we've not seen before."
Wait. Did he just call him Sheriff?
He looked far too casual and friendly to work in law enforcement. He looked far more likely to dish out hugs and cups of cocoa than slap his cuffs on someone.
"I hope you’re right.”
"Pretty sure I am, Sheriff."
He gave us both a nod and said, "From your lips to God’s ears. You two have good night."
"Are you not worried about the storm?" I asked as the sheriff walked back to the pool table.
"Nah," Jackson said and waved a hand dismissively. "It'll be all good. Besides, I've fought my way through just about every weather phenomenon there is. The talking heads on TV like to make them all out to be deadly, but they're never as bad as they sound."
I hoped to God he was right. There was no way I was missing out on the legendary Roxi Lane.
Jackson fell silent for a minute and stared at the table, and I studied his face. There were a few lines around the sides of his eyes that made him look more handsome, more distinguished, and the adolescent chubbiness that used to puff out his cheeks was long gone.
He looked so much older, that was for sure, but goddamn had he aged well. He had grown into his perfect looks and matured to magnificence like a priceless painting. I couldn't take my eyes off him. In so many ways, he had changed beyond all recognition, but at the same time, there was so much about him that looked just as I remembered, only better.
There was still a hint of mischief in his eyes, and he licked his lips after his first sip of beer in the exact same way he always had. Then there was the way his hands looked, curled around a bottle, the veins sticking out along the back of his bones leading up to his powerful arms. I felt lost in the memory of being held in those arms, of being kissed by those lips and held against those strong muscles. It was years ago, but in my mind it may as well have been yesterday.
Should I lean over and kiss him?
No, that would be madness. Just stay put and behave yourself!
"You look really good," he complimented, breaking the silence. "But I guess you already knew that."
I gave him a puzzled look.
"What?" he said, noticing the look on my face. "Don't tell me people don't tell you how good you look every day of your life. I bet you're bored of hearing it."
"If you're talking about the times I get wolf whistled at in the street by creepy guys, then you're right, I am bored of it."
"I hope you don't think I'm a creepy guy," he murmured, his hand drifting across the table.
I could never think that. Jackson wasn't like other guys. He might have looked like a bad boy, but the Jackson I knew had a heart of gold.
"You couldn't be creepy if you tried. You were always so good to us girls," I said, and he smiled.
It was the kind of smile that blinded you, that eclipsed the sun, that blocked out everything else in the room. It was the kind of dazzling smile that stole your heart and made you feel as though you were walking a foot off the ground. It had been so long since I'd been smiled at like that, and it felt as though a series of tiny fireworks were being set off around my heart.
Looking down at the table, I saw his hand moving even closer to me. I snaked my own fingers closer to his and hoped he would take them.
Pump the breaks, Gabby. He’s not the same Jackson. Do the right thing and walk away.
But no matter how much sense my brain was making, my body was betraying it, inching closer to Jackson as though being pulled by an invisible thread.
Our fingertips grazed each other as below the table, I could feel his bulky thigh press against my leg. I remembered being tangled in those legs as I reached states of pure heaven. They were bigger now, more muscular, and I longed to know what it would feel like to be wrapped up in them again.
"You know, you're looking pretty great too," I said, my fingers winding around his.
He took them and squeezed lightly. Such an innocent gesture that sent a shock wave of tingles up my arm.
"I'm glad you think so," he grinned.
The melancholy look in his eyes minutes ago was replaced with a mischievous twinkle, and I felt myself melt closer to him.
Slowly, we moved nearer as though we were destined to lock lips, our bodies incapable of repelling one another.
I could feel the heat of his body approach, could feel my heart beat faster with the promise of feeling his kiss.
Just a little closer. Just another couple inches.
I closed my eyes and felt the heat of his breath on my lips.
I waited and knew that at any second his lips would meet mine, but before they could, I was suddenly aware of someone standing beside us.
"Yo! Jackson! How's it goin'? Shit, hope I'm not interruptin’ a hot date or nothing."
I opened my eyes and looked up. A man that looked like a human incarnation of a pit bull stood next to us in a black puffy vest and gray sweatpants. His sleeves were pushed up and there were Navy tattoos on muscular arms so big, they were almost monstrous.
"Dylan," Jackson said, his voice filled with irritation. "I didn't know you were coming in tonight."
"Yeah, man. Meetin’ a buddy."
His eyes were on me, searching my face for a hint of my identity.
"And you are…"
"I'm Gabby," I said, holding out my hand for him to shake.
"Oh. Oh! Shit. Gabby! As in the Gabby. Aw, man! Have I heard about you."
I shot Jackson a questioning look and raised my eyebrows.
"Don't worry. I've only heard good things," Dylan continued. "But Jackson didn’t tell me you were in town."
"It's just for the weekend," I said, still looking at Jackson.
"Awesome. Well, see you around."
He slapped Jackson on the back, winked, and walked away.
"Sorry, that was one of my partners."
"You must be pretty close. Since he knew about me."
Sheepishly, Jackson glanced away.
"I may have told the boys about you."
"What did you tell them?"
Jackson regarded me for a moment, his eyes hard to read. “Do you really want to know?” His voice was low.
A warning signal flashed in my brain and I shook my head. “No.”
The moment fell flat, but maybe Dylan's mood killing appearance was a good thing. Perhaps it saved me from doing something I would later regret.
"It's getting late," I announced. "I should probably get back to Carly. Hopefully she's not puking all over Jared’s bathroom."
"Knowing her, she'll be eating cold pizza and watching junk TV. Want me to call you a cab? I'd offer to drive you home myself but think I've had one beer too many."
"Sure."
Outside, we shivered as the wind picked up and snow lashed us in the face.
"Ugh, it's freezing out here! How long did the cab say it would be?"
"Twenty minutes."
"That's forever away!"
Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, jangling them in my face.
"We can hide from the snow in my truck," he suggested. "Beats getting hypothermia."
Climbing into his truck, he turned the key in the ignition and cranked up the heat. I felt the hot air blast my face, and it instantly made me sleepy.
"I think I had a bit too much to drink tonight," I admitted. "I'll pay for it in the morning."
"Probably,” he said with a laugh. He looked at me, a serious expression on his face. “It’s been really good
catching up with you.” He was rubbing his frigid hands together with that cheeky smile spreading across his face. It made the snow disappear, made the cold and wind drift away into nothingness.
How did I end up here? I was trying to go home to get away from him.
An electric tension filled the truck as the two of us fell silent, knowing what was coming next. It felt inevitable, as though I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to. Gradually, I inched closer to him.
His hand reached out to me and landed on my thigh, the cold from his fingers penetrating my clothes. He massaged my leg, and my heart raced a little faster, and faster as he moved closer.
Slowly, his face leaned down, his lips meeting mine gently. It felt so right, so soft, so sensual, just like it always had. I let out a quiet gasp as his tongue brushed mine and his hand moved even higher up my thigh.
I ran my hands over his stomach with soft, feathery strokes before slipping my fingers up beneath his shirt and feeling the ripple of his muscles.
I pulled away for a second and looked into his eyes, which were ablaze with passion. No one had ever looked at me like that before, had made me feel so desirable. Running his fingers down the length of my jaw, he pulled my lips to his and kissed me again, harder.
"I have an idea," he whispered in my ear, his breath sending an endless wave of goosebumps along the length of my spine. "Come home with me."
I felt like I’d been slapped back into reality. "No," I said, pulling away.
He looked hurt and confused.
"Gabby, I thought—"
"You thought wrong." I was aware of how harsh I sounded and softened slightly. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just that I've literally just become single, and what you and me had was a long time ago. I don't want to complicate our lives."
He gave me a weak but understanding smile and took my hands. "You’re right," he said. "I get it. "
He squeezed my fingers, and I relished the feeling of being held by him. He made me feel safe, warm, and most importantly, respected.
At the edge of the parking lot, I saw the headlights of an incoming taxi and sighed with the knowledge that I was going to have to say goodbye.
"I gotta go," I said. "It was great to catch up."
"See you again?" he asked.
"Maybe..."
I took one last look at him, then leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before slipping out of the truck into the freezing wind and snow. It howled around my ears as I ran to the cab and leaped into the back.
"Jesus, that's some weather," said the driver.
He was a cheerful guy with red hair and freckles peppering his cheeks. Talking to me in the rearview mirror, he caught sight of all the snow dusting my hair.
"They say it's gonna get worse," he said, pulling out the parking lot.
I raised a hand to the window in the hope that Jackson could see me wave goodbye, but it was impossible to see further than two feet away from the car.
I noticed the rosary beads hanging from the mirror and the vanilla air freshener stuck to the wheel.
"I hope not," I said. "I'm supposed to see Roxi Lane tomorrow."
Chapter 6
Jackson
As I arrived home, I rushed inside, a gust of wind from outdoors floating in that brought with it a small drift of snow.
But no matter how cold it was, nothing could snuff out the fire raging inside my gut.
Gabby had looked so damn good and tasted even better. Everything about her was just as amazing as I remembered it, possibly better. The way she kissed me, the way she felt in my hands, the smell of her hair and the softness of her skin along with the low rasp of her voice, all took my breath away.
I flung my keys down on the kitchen counter and saw myself in the reflective surface of the toaster. It wasn't the best mirror, but I could still see my face, which was bright red. Down below, a hard-on raged inside my boxers. I couldn't remember the last time I’d been so turned on. And all I’d done was kiss her.
"Jesus fucking Christ. Get a grip on yourself."
I moved into the bathroom where I turned the dials of the shower up. I peeled off my frozen clothes, layer by layer, and stepped inside. The water was almost scalding, just how I liked it.
I let the heat soothe me and the steam clear the cold from my face. Trying to think of anything but her, I thought back work and what the situation was with the Gianni’s. That little bastard had an ego like nothing I’d ever seen, and an entourage of men that looked as though they’d seen the inside of a prison cell. If they were intent on hanging around town, we would be busy and would have to formulate a plan.
But no matter how much I tried to focus on Benny and his goons, I couldn't pull myself away from Gabby's face, which filled every corner of my mind. She moved through my body as though I had been lured under her spell.
I thought about the feel of her lips against mine and lowered my hand between my legs. I was so hard it hurt. Memories flooded back to me of holding her tight, of kissing her in places that made her cry out, of entering her body and feeling the near violent shudder of her orgasm.
Stroking myself a little harder, I felt my breath quicken as a deep heat surged through me, making me impossibly harder.
I imagined her in front of me, dropping her clothes to the floor before stepping into the shower, and I wondered if her body looked the same. Would her breasts still be as pert and full? Would the soft flesh between her legs still be as silky?
In my mind she was pressing herself against me, joining me beneath the steaming water as my hands cupped her breasts. I imagined her replacing my hand with her own and pumping my cock hard with her soft fingers as I buried my face between her breasts. She would reach up on tip toes and kiss my ears, whispering all the things she wanted me to do to her.
She’d always had a filthy mouth in bed and knew exactly what to say.
"Bend me over and take me hard." I heard her voice in my head.
I imagined grabbing her slender waist as I spun her around to face the wall where I would push her against the cool tiles, my fingers tangling in her wet hair as she guided me inside her.
"Hmmm like that. Oh, God yes!"
I closed my eyes as I imagined thrusting deep inside her, moving faster and faster until I reached a frantic rhythm. So badly I wanted to hear her scream, to hear my name on her lips as she came. My own hand moved faster, harder, tugging at my cock until I could feel the muscles in my thighs tighten as my abs contracted.
"Jackson! Harder!"
Just the thought of her screaming those words made me reach a violent, shuddering orgasm that sucked the strength from my legs, and I fell against the wall, weak and drained. For a long moment, I felt as though I had gone blind. I just stood there, gasping as the water ran down my body.
Pressing my forehead against the cold tiles, I tried to regain my breath.
"Fuck."
Turning off the shower, I stepped out and toweled myself dry. As I walked into the bedroom, I was still unsteady on my legs, still dizzy from being overcome by one of the greatest orgasms of my life.
Staggering to the bed, I flung myself down on top and pretended she was beside me. I fell instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep. When I woke up, the sun was streaming through the windows. Looking over at the clock, I saw it was nine o'clock, and I realized that for the first time in years, I had slept for a full eight hours without a single nightmare.
Chapter 7
Gabby
I woke up and had no idea where I was. Looking over at the corner of the room, I saw an exercise bike covered in dirty old socks and a punchbag hanging from the ceiling. The whole room smelled like a high school boys' locker room.
"What the fuck?"
I sat up and felt the back of my throat ache as my head thumped with a hangover. Then it all came back to me. The countless rum and cokes, the mobster who'd grabbed me, Jackson, the way his lips had felt against mine...
As I rubbed my eyes and looked around the room at my cl
othes strewn across the floor, I remembered I had fallen asleep in Jared's spare bedroom. Rolling out of bed, I slipped into an oversized t shirt and a pair of shorts and shuffled into the living room where Jared was nursing a large cup of coffee while Carly lay on her side on the couch. There was a bucket on the floor in front of her head and a packet of Alka Seltzer on the coffee table.
"How are you?" I asked her. "Did you sleep there all night?"
"Well, I slept for a little while, then I barfed for a while. Anyway, when did you get in?"
"About two," I lied. "Not long after you left."
She was in no condition to question me and just stared in the direction of the TV where some trashy game show was playing.
"Anyone want breakfast?" I asked as my stomach growled.
"Oh, Lord no," Jared said, looking close to spewing at the thought. "Think I'm gonna take some aspirin and head back to bed. I made the killer mistake of crawling into a bottle of vodka when I got back last night. Seemed like a great idea at the time."
"What about you, Carly?"
"If I move, I'll actually die," she moaned.
"Good grief, you two are a bunch of lightweights. It's hard to believe you're related to Jackson."
I walked to the sink, filled a glass with water, and downed it all in one go before heading into the bathroom. Carly had claimed her territory, so there wasn't a single space that wasn't covered in her bottles of hair products, perfume, mysteriously expensive creams, and lip glosses.
As I stepped into the shower, I caught my reflection in the mirror and saw how tired I looked.
"Jesus Christ, you’re a hot mess."
Climbing into the hot water, I washed away the smells of booze and cold weather from the night before and thought about Jackson. How his smile lit up the room and his hands gripped mine. I thought of the way he smelled, tasted, how his voice escaped his lips in short little groans as he kissed me.
I remembered the way his muscles had bulged through his shirt and how his fingers had caressed my face as he kissed me so tenderly. He was the perfect combination of strength and softness, and as much as I wanted to forget about him, I just couldn't.