5. Chapter 5
5
Chapter 5
“We should probably go back to civilization,” I murmur, though I make no move to leave the warmth of Jack’s arms. We’ve spent three days in our island bubble - cooking, talking. Me, definitely not writing.
“Probably.” His fingers trace patterns on my bare skin. The morning light streaming through the windows turns his eyes an impossible shade of blue. “I could get used to this.”
“To what? Being a hermit on your secret island?”
“To waking up with you.” He drops a kiss on my shoulder. Surprising me with his honesty. “To not sharing you with the rest of the world.”
“Jack…”
“I mean it.” His voice turns even more serious. “I’m done hiding, baby.” He props himself up on an elbow to look me in the eye. Acres of smooth golden skin covering his massive figure.
His hand slides down my side.
And I arch into his touch.
“Come here,” he murmurs, rolling me under him. His lips trail down my neck. His mouth finds that spot behind my ear that makes me gasp.
We’re definitely going to miss our flight. Again.
Jack’s hand closes around my thigh, spreading my legs open. His hard cock presses against me. God. He feels so good.
His gaze darkens.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”
The words send a new wave of desire through me.
“Jack,” I moan, pulling his head down to mine.
Our tongues slide together. Our bodies moving in tandem in a slow grind of pleasure.
Jack’s hands cup my ass, holding me against him.
“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispers.
My heart races.
“Jack…”
“It’s true.” His fingers dig into my skin. “Every inch of you is fucking perfection.”
I don’t have a reply.
He kisses me again. Deeper. Slower.
I moan again, wrapping a leg around his waist.
He shifts his hips, rubbing the head of his cock over my entrance.
“Yes,” I gasp, reaching down to guide him into me.
“Fuck.” Jack’s voice is hoarse as he pushes inside me.
“God, you feel so good.”
The bed is rocking. His muscles are straining.
I hold onto his shoulders.
“Fuck,” Jack swears.
“Are you close?” I pant.
“Yes.”
“Faster.”
“God, baby,” he groans, pounding into me.
“Yes. Yes!” I explode around him. My whole body convulses with pleasure.
“Fuck, baby,” he growls, coming hard.
He collapses next to me, both of us sweaty and breathing heavily.
“Holy shit,” he pants.
“That was amazing.”
“It was.” He turns to look at me. “You’re amazing.”
He pulls me closer, kissing my forehead.
* * *
Later - much later - I watch him pack, enjoying the view as he moves around the bedroom. Even in worn jeans and a simple black t-shirt, he looks unfairly gorgeous. The past few days have left him more relaxed, the guarded celebrity replaced by this playful, warm man who can’t seem to stop touching me.
“You’re staring,” Jack says without turning.
I grin like a fool, feeling my face heat.
He glances over his shoulder, eyes dark. “Keep looking at me like that and we’ll miss another flight.”
“Promise?”
In two strides, he’s got me pressed against the wall, his mouth hot on mine. “You,” he rumbles between kisses, “are trouble.”
“The good kind, I hope,” I counter, sliding my hands under his shirt, reveling in the feel of his soft, warm skin.
“The best kind.” He catches my wrists. “But Sandra will actually murder me if we miss this press thing.”
Right. Reality check. We have a carefully scripted statement to deliver about our “new relationship.” The thought must show on my face because Jack’s expression softens.
“Hey.” He tilts my chin up. “Nothing changes. Not the important stuff.”
“I know. It’s just…” I gesture vaguely. “Out there, you’re Jack Ellis. In here, you’re just…”
“Just what?”
“The guy who kisses me like…”
“Like what?” His voice has gone low.
Something flashes in his eyes - heat and tenderness and something deeper that makes my heart race.
He kisses me again, soft and firm. “Now come on. The sooner we deal with this shit, the sooner I can get you alone again.”
I step back before he can kiss me senseless again. “Fine. But I’m wearing this.” I hold up his black hoodie, the one I’ve been sleeping in.
His eyes darken at the sight. “That’s mine.”
“Not anymore.”
“Neneh.” The way he says my name should be illegal. “You can’t wear my clothes to a press conference.” His gaze is feral. Possessive.
Quirking an eyebrow, I pull it on over my tank top, breathing in his scent. “It’ll drive the gossip sites crazy. ‘Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor’s Girlfriend Spotted in His hoodie.’”
He groans, but I catch the way his eyes linger on me. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I stretch up to kiss his jaw. “Come on, Mr. Ellis. Time to face the music.”
He pulls me back against his chest, lips brushing my ear. “You keep the sweater on tonight.” One nip at my jaw. “Just the sweater.”
I absolutely do not shiver at the promise in his voice. “Deal.”
* * *
“Remember the script,” Sandra whispers. “Short, sweet, request for privacy.”
I hide my smile behind a coffee cup. Jack in media mode is fascinating - all sharp edges and cool control in his perfectly tailored suit. So freaking hot, I want to fan myself. His hand keeps finding mine, and I haven’t missed how his eyes darken every time he spots his hoodie under my blazer.
“Stop fidgeting,” my agent tells me.
“I’m not-”
“You’re playing with your hair.” Jack’s voice is warm with amusement.
“Well, excuse me for being nervous about facing a room full of reporters.”
He steps away from Sandra, ignoring her protests, and draws me aside. “Just look at me. Ignore everyone else.”
“Easy for you to say when you look like that.”
His lips twitch. “Like what?”
“Like fucking sex in a suit.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
His eyes darken dangerously. “Behave.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, holding in a naughty smile.
“Time!” Malik calls, but not before catching the way Jack’s hand tightens on my waist.
“Ready?” Jack’s thumb brushes my hip one last time before he steps back.
I smooth his sweater, enjoying how his eyes track the movement and nod.
The room buzzes when we enter. Cameras flash, voices overlap, and Jack’s public mask slides into place. But his hand stays firmly on my lower back as he guides me to the podium.
“Thank you for coming,” he starts, his deep voice steady. “We’ll keep this brief.”
I try to focus on his handsome profile instead of the sea of faces, but I catch snippets of whispered conversations.
“Look how he’s touching her-”
“Never seen him like this-”
Jack reads the prepared statement perfectly, all controlled authority and professional distance. Right until the end, when he goes completely off script.
“One last thing.” His hand finds mine on the podium. “The media has always had their own version of who I am. Today, for the first time, I don’t care what story they tell. Because the only story that matters is that I’m in love with this woman.”
The room erupts. Everyone going fucking nuts with questions, comments, camera flashes. Sandra looks like she’s having an aneurysm. Malik stares wide-eyed. And I…
I’m staring at Jack Ellis like he’s the fucking sun. The stars. And the moon.
The chaos that follows is a blur of shouted questions and camera flashes. Jack handles it all with practiced ease, deflecting the more personal questions, answering others, his thumb stroking small circles on my hand.
“Did you just hijack your own press conference to tell me you love me?” I whisper during a brief lull.
His lips barely move as he answers. “Seemed more efficient than waiting.”
“Efficient?”
“Mhm. Now I can tell you properly. Later. When you’re wearing nothing but my hoodie.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and somewhere in the crowd, a photographer definitely catches my reaction.
“Mr. Ellis!” A reporter’s voice cuts through the noise. “Is it true you’ve been hiding out on a private island?”
“No comment.” But his eyes meet mine, full of private meaning. “Though I will say some places are worth keeping secret.”
“And your upcoming film?”
“Starts production next month.” His professional tone is back, but his hand doesn’t leave mine. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have dinner plans.”
“We do?” I murmur as he guides me toward the exit.
“Yes. In my apartment. Just you, me, and the sweater you stole.”
* * *
The moment the elevator doors close in his building, he has me pressed against the wall.
“You,” he says between kisses, “have no idea how hard it was not to do this during that entire press conference.”
“Poor baby.” I tug at his tie. “Having to behave in public.”
“Wearing my clothes.” His voice is rough as his big hands slide under the layers of fabric. “Looking at me like that in front of everyone.”
“Like what?”
“Like you wanted me to-”
The elevator dings, and he groans, stepping back. “Come on.”
His apartment is all floor-to-ceiling windows and city lights, but I barely get a glimpse before he’s kissing me again, walking me backward to what I assume is his bedroom.
“Wait.” I pull back slightly. “I don’t get a tour?”
“Later,” he rumbles against my skin, his mouth finding that spot on my neck that makes me moan.
“But-”
“Neneh.” He lifts his head to look at me, eyes dark with hunger. “I love you and I need to show you.”
Well, when he puts it like that…
His bedroom is all moonlight and city views, but I’m too focused on his hands, his mouth, the way he whispers “I love you” over and over against my skin to notice much else.
It takes forever to strip off his jacket and dress shirt, and even longer for him to peel me out of my jeans, lace bra and panties, and I think we both stop breathing for a moment when Jack sees them.
He presses his forehead to mine, his voice a low rasp.
_“God.”_
And then he sinks to his knees, pushing my thighs apart, his lips and tongue making me gasp and clutch his shoulders and-
He stops and looks up, and the sight of him between my legs, hair messy, shirt open, eyes wild, nearly sends me over the edge.
And then he smiles, a wicked little grin that tells me exactly what he intends to do.
Oh.
Yes, please.
I lean back and let the wave take me.
* * *
Later, wrapped in nothing but his big, strong arms, I trace patterns on his chest. “Soooo, about that tour…”
Jack laughs, pulling me closer.
“Also, we do need to eat eventually.”
“Eventually,” he agrees, but his mouth is already finding mine again.
* * *
After a very thorough “tour” of his bedroom - we raid his kitchen. I’m wearing one of his t-shirts. He’s in low-slung pajama pants, hair deliciously mussed. So fucking sexy I can barely keep my eyes and hands off him.
“Your fridge is depressing,” I announce, peering inside.
“I haven’t been here in a minute.” He comes up behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. I give him my weight, dropping my head back on his shoulder, my hands coming to rest on his. “Someone kept distracting me on an island.”
“Should I be jealous?”
“Terribly.” His lips brush my neck. “She even steals my clothes.”
“Good for her.” I peer up into his beautiful eyes. “Sounds like she has excellent taste.”
“She does.” But his voice has gone serious. “And she sees through all my walls. Makes me want things I’d given up on.”
I turn in his arms. “Like what?”
“Like this. Coming home to someone. Making midnight snacks. Building a life.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a midnight snack.”
Jack laughs, and the sound warms me from the inside out. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I rise on my toes to kiss him. “Even if your fridge is tragic. We’re ordering in, right?”
“Already done.” He nods toward his phone on the counter. “Food’s on the way.”
“My hero.”
“Thought you might be hungry after…” He smirks. “The tour.”
“Very thorough tour.” I hop on the counter, enjoying how his eyes darken when the shirt rides up. “But I still haven’t seen the rest of the place.”
“Later.” He steps between my legs, hands sliding up my thighs. “We have more pressing matters.”
I giggle against his kissing lips. “Baby, the food’s coming.”
“We have time.” His mouth and hands are all over me.
The doorbell rings.
Jack drops his forehead to my shoulder with a groan. I laugh again, pushing him back gently. “Food first.”
“Deal.” But he steals another kiss before going to answer the door, throwing over his shoulder. “Do not move.”
I watch him walk away, all muscle and grace, and think about how surreal this feels - being here, being us, this happy.
We eat Thai food straight from the containers, cross-legged on his obscenely comfortable couch. The city glitters through the windows, but I’m more captivated by this version of Jack Ellis - guard completely down, laughing at my attempts to steal his pad thai.
“So,” he says, catching my wandering chopsticks with his. “When are you moving in?”
I nearly choke on my curry. “What?”
“Move in with me.” He sets his food down, eyes intense, a small smile playing on his lips. All messy hair, stubbled jaw and strong chest on full display. “I know it’s fast, but we’ve spent the last three days waking up next to each other, and the thought of not having that…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to waste any more time, love.”
“Jack…”
He takes my food, sets it aside. “I sleep better with you in my arms.”
“That’s because you steal all the blankets and use me for warmth.”
“Exactly.” His smile is soft. He pushes a curl behind my ear. “So?”
I pretend to think about it. “Does this mean I get unlimited access to your clothes?”
Jack shakes his head, watching me with so much warmth my heart hurts.
“Yes.” I finally reply, looking at him through my lashes. About to burst with happiness. “But I have conditions.”
“Name them.” He pulls me into his lap, and I try not to get distracted by how good he feels. All big, warm, strong. His amazing scent enveloping me.
I start counting on my fingers. “One: I get closet space. Lots of it.”
“Done.” His hands slip under the shirt again, face burying in the crook of my neck. “Next?”
“Two: You have to actually stock the kitchen.”
“There’s a delivery service when I’m in town.”
“Three…” I lose my train of thought as his tongue traces my skin. “Jack,” I let out a bit breathlessly. “Stop, I’m negotiating.”
“I’m listening.” But his mouth doesn’t leave my skin. Hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses, the nip of his teeth, the press of his long, hard cock against my ass…
But I push through, because what I really want to say is serious and important. SO I frame his face between my hands, bringing our eyes level. “No more running, Jack. I mean it. When things get hard we face them together.”
His gaze is dead serious. “I’m done running, sweetheart. I’m exactly where I belong.”
“Good.” I trace his jaw with my finger. His tender words turn into a groan when I shift in his lap. “We really should finish the apartment tour first,” I tease, but make no move to leave his lap.
Jack’s hands tighten on my hips as I deliberately shift again. His blue eyes turn stormy, dangerous. I run my fingers through his hair, enjoying how his eyes darken. Then his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding.
We don’t make it to the bedroom this time.
* * *
Wrapped in a throw blanket on the couch, watching city lights dance across Jack’s face, I can’t help smiling.
“What?” he asks, fingers tracing patterns on my back.
“Just thinking about how you scowled at me that first day at the inn. If someone had told me then that Jack Ellis would be my personal space heater…”
“If someone had told me then that the innkeeper’s daughter would steal all my clothes…”
I poke his chest, laughing. “You gave me this shirt.”
“Did I? I don’t recall.”
Oh, My God. My heart and ovaries cannot take playful Jack Ellis.
“No take backsies.” Unable to resist, I press a kiss to his delicious lips, loving the scratch of stubble on my skin, the taste and smell of him.
Jack laughs, pulling me even closer.
The joy in his voice and expression makes my heart skip. This is a different Jack from the guarded man who arrived in Starlight Bay - still intense, still capable of making my heart and panties melt with one look, but soft, open. Mine.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table.
“My mother,” I groan after grabbing it. “Apparently the press conference is all over the media.”
“Of course it is.” He reads over my shoulder. “Did she just send fifteen heart emojis?” His chest shakes with amusement.
“Twenty. And she wants to know when we’re coming to visit.” I roll my eyes but I’m smiling.
Jack’s arm tightens around me. “Soon. But maybe we should wait until the media circus dies down a bit.” He sits up, taking me with him. “But I may have already talked to your parents.”
“About?”
“Spending some time back at the inn.” His fingers play with my hair. “Where it all started.”
I turn to face him fully. “Jack Ellis, are you being romantic?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
I kiss him quick but deep. “Though fair warning - my mother’s probably already planning our wedding.” I laugh.
“Good.” It’s so quiet I almost miss it.
“Jack?”
He stands, pulling me up with him. “Come on. Time for the rest of that tour.” His smile turns wicked. “We still have rooms to christen.” He squeezes my waist, making me giggle like a schoolgirl.
His laugh echoes through the apartment as he chases me down the hall.
* * *
One week later, we pull up to Starlight Inn. The press has mostly lost interest since Jack’s declaration at the conference - apparently, happy couples are boring news. A few photographers still linger, but nothing like before.
“Ready?” Jack turns off the engine but makes no move to get out.
I study his profile in the winter light. Sharp jaw, devastating cheekbones. Movie star good looks and beautiful heart.
“You’re nervous,” I realize, smiling.
His, “no,” isn’t very convincing.
“Liar.” I laugh, reaching for his hand. “Jack, you know my parents love you, right?”
He looks at me intently before saying something I don’t fully understand at first. “Your mother sent me a text about place settings.”
I stop. “Wait. Place settings?”
But he’s already out of the car, grabbing our bags, leaving me there, stunned. Did he mean…? And what was his response?!
My mother throws open the front door before we reach it. “Finally! I was about to send your father to get you.”
“Ma, we were sitting in the car for a couple of minutes.”
She ignores me, pulling Jack into a hug that he returns with obvious affection.
“Let them breathe, Aminata,” my dad says, but he’s grinning, too.
Inside, the inn looks like Cupid threw up all over the place. Hearts and roses everywhere, much more elaborate than when we decorated before we left.
I smirk. “Subtle, mom.”
“What? It’s Valentine’s Day!” She bustles around, straightening already straight decorations. “Jack, dear, does everything look alright?”
He clears his throat. “Perfect. Thank you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s happening here?”
“Nothing.” They say in unison, which isn’t suspicious at all.
My father appears with a tray of tea. “Why don’t we have a drink before dinner?”
“Actually…” Jack’s hand finds mine, squeezing slightly. “Would you dance with me first?”
“Now?”
But music is already playing - the same song as that first night we danced together. My mother disappears, pulling my father with her.
“Jack?”
He leads me to the spot where we first danced, but his usual grace seems shaky. Is he… trembling?
“I had this whole speech planned,” he says softly. “About how you crashed through every wall I built. About how you make me brave.” His hand comes up to cup my face. “About how I want to spend the rest of my life dancing with you.”
“Jack…” My heart stops as he reaches into his pocket.
“But all I can think about,” he continues, sinking to one knee. Oh! My! God! “Is how broken I was walking into this inn, and how terrified I am now, but for completely different reasons.”
My hands fly to my mouth as he opens a small velvet box.
“I’m scared because this matters more than anything ever has in my life. Because you matter.” His voice shakes slightly. “Because the thought of not waking up to you stealing my hoodie, hogging the blankets, and looking at me like I’m worth something real… is unthinkable.”
“Jack…”
“Marry me, Neneh.” He looks up at me with those impossible blue eyes. “Dance with me for the rest of our lives.”
I’m nodding before he finishes, tears streaming down my face. “Yes. God, yes.”
The ring barely makes it onto my finger before he’s standing, pulling me into a kiss that tastes like salt, pure happiness and promises of forever.
Somewhere, I hear my mother sniffling. My father clearing his throat. But all I can focus on is Jack’s smile against my lips, his heart racing under my palm, and the way he whispers “I love you” like a prayer.
“Finally!” My mother rushes forward, eyes teary. “I’ve been holding back since Jack asked for our blessing.”
“How long have you all been planning this?” I ask, incredulous, but I can’t stop smiling, can’t stop looking at the ring on my finger.
“Since the island,” Jack admits, arm secure around my waist.
“Just needed to stop running,” my father adds, clapping Jack’s shoulder.
“That.” Jack chuckles before pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Good.” My mother hands us each a glass of tea. “Now, about that wedding-”
“Ma chérie,” my father warns, but he’s grinning. “Let the kids breathe.”
Music still plays softly.
“Dance with me, future Mrs. Ellis?” Jack sets down our glasses, pulling me close.
“Always.”