Chapter 4
Jackson
I dragthe cute brunette to the back of the bar. I don’t know what I’m doing, but she caught my attention the second she entered the bar with her friend. I’m not sure why. It’s not like she’s dressed for a night out clubbing with her friends in her jeans and plaid shirt. But maybe that’s why I’m drawn to her. She is effortlessly beautiful. I noticed that immediately. I’d been taken aback when she disappeared as I approached her to buy her a drink. Women never run away from me. I thought she was like Cinderella disappearing into the night.
Her hand feels small and warm in mine and she pulls it away from me as we stop near one of the exit doors. She looks up at me, her brown eyes wide as she stares at me. Her long black hair is curly around her shoulders and she brushes it away from her chest and behind her shoulders. My eyes linger on the valley between her breasts. Her shirt is unbuttoned, exposing a large sample of tanned skin, and something stirs in my stomach.
“You didn’t have to rescue me,” she says, jutting her chin up, though there’s a whisper of a smile on her lips. “I was handling it.”
“Dude almost had his hands in the back of your jeans,” I say, glancing at her lips. “I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
“I appreciate it.” She smiles shyly. “A bit over protective of someone you don’t know, but?—”
“Maybe I want you to be someone I do know,” I say and chuckle as she blushes. She runs her fingers through her hair and looks down slightly, and I know I’ve got her. It’s as easy as pie. “Do you want to dance?” I reach for her hand, grab it, and pull her into me before she can answer. Her curls fall forward again, and I push them back behind her ear as I move back and forth. She hesitates for a moment and then starts dancing as well. She moves effortlessly, and I can’t help but admire how she seems to be one with the music. She pulls her hands back and starts spinning around, and I try to keep up with her. Ethan and the others are likely wondering where I am, but tonight, I need to be with a stranger. I don’t want to think about my dad, or business, or anything that requires brain cells. I also don’t want to be with a woman who knows who I am, and I can tell this lady, whoever she is, has no clue.
The song changes to one of Ed Sheeran’s many tunes and she starts jumping up and down, the excitement evident in her voice as she sings along to the song. She has a nice voice, but I can tell she’s not singing to impress, but rather because she just enjoys the song. I debate inviting her to karaoke with me and the others, but this isn’t about making her a part of my group or life. This is just about enjoying a moment with a beautiful stranger.
“You have a beautiful voice,” I say as I grab her and pull her back into me. She doesn’t resist as I hold her around the waist. I can feel her trembling against me, and I run my fingers down the side of her arm.
“I bet you say that to all the ladies.”
“Perhaps.” I laugh. “Want a drink?”
She nods. “I am dying for a drink.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” I grab her hand again, and we glide toward the bar. I find an empty spot and signal to the bartender, who heads over immediately. Smart man. “What would you like?”
“Surprise me.” She licks her lips and I feel another stirring in my stomach. This lady is effortlessly sexy, and I haven’t felt this drawn to a woman in years. I don’t even know her name.
“I can do that,” I say. “In many ways.”
“Oh, yeah?” She nods her head and raises an eyebrow. “What sort of ways?” She blushes and looks down again, which surprises me. So, she’s not a natural flirt. Interesting.
“All the ways that matter.” I turn to the bartender. “Two shots of your best vodka, and then I’ll have an old-fashioned and a porn star martini for the beautiful lady.”
“Are you calling me a porn star?” she asks with a giggle. I shake my head, my eyes taking in her long, slender neck. Her fingers are playing with her hair again, and my cock stirs. I want to feel those fingers on me. I want to see those red fingernails digging into my skin. I want to see that black curly hair trailing on my lower abdomen and thighs as she takes me deep into her mouth.
“Never.” I wink as I hand her one of the shots the bartender has made and hold my glass up toast. “To new friendships and where the night may bring us.”
“I think I know where you want the night to lead us,” she says before downing the shot. “To tonight, Zeus.”
“Zeus?” I ask her in confusion.
“That’s my name for you.” She laughs. “You remind me of a Greek god.”
“So then, I guess I shall call you Aphrodite.” I lean forward and press my lips against her ear. “You are a goddess of sexual love and beauty.” She shivers, and the scent of her hair takes back as it presses against my lips. It smells like juicy peaches, and a warm fuzzy feeling gathers in my heart. As a child, the smell of cooking peaches always delighted me. It meant that Cook was making peach cobbler, my most favorite of desserts. And Cook had been my most favorite of people. And I had been her favorite Pruitt, a fact she’d told me almost every week. Not that there was much of a contest.
“More like Brokeodite.” She makes a face and then shakes her head. “Focus on the positive,” she whispers under her breath like some sort of mantra, and I wonder if I should just back away. She’s cute, but she’s acting a bit odd and I don’t know if I am intrigued by it or should see it as a warning sign. She’s unlike every other woman I’ve met, and I’m not sure how to take that. When flirting with me, women are typically bold and like lionesses on the prowl when they see they have my attention. This lady initially fled, and I’m not sure if this is some sort of cat-and-mouse game she’s playing with me or if this is her unique personality.
“There you are, Zara.” The cute woman with big blue eyes comes running over to her friend, followed by a tall, lanky man who looks like he doesn’t really want to be here. So, Aphrodite’s real name is Zara; it suits her.
“Hey, Lila, I didn’t want to interrupt you and Hank,” she says as her friend stops next to her, her face flushed. There’s a tall, lanky man with an obnoxious look on his face, whom I assume is Hank. “I didn’t get the drinks yet because I?—”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the friend says, looking back at Hank and shrugging. “You ready to get Zara and me a drink?” Her voice rises dramatically, and I wonder if she’s noticed that her friend and I were chatting and flirting up a storm.
“Lila, I was chatting with someone,” Zara says as she nods to me with a wry smile, her pink lips glistening. I want to kiss her. I want to grab her, pull her away from her friend, and go somewhere we can’t be disturbed. She can go back to her friend afterward, but for now, I want her to be mine.
“Oh.” Lila looks over at me, and then her blue eyes widen. For a worried moment, I think she recognizes me. I’ve not been listed as the most eligible bachelor in the city in any publications, but those in the scene know that I am one of the wealthiest heirs in the country. There are women who would do anything to “catch” Jackson Pruitt and the billions of dollars I’m set to inherit. The prestige that comes from a Pruitt is almost unheard of, save for a few other families in the US. We are “old money,” with my ancestors on both sides having come over on the Mayflower and my father’s side having been involved in building the railroads. My great-grandfather and grandfather were a senator and governor, respectively, and my mother claims distant ancestry to the Greek royal family. The Pruitts lived a famed life, aside from me. And I know there are many women who want to be a part of that.
My heart thuds as I wait for Lila to ask me if I am Jackson Pruitt. “He’s cute.” She giggles as she bites down on her lip. “I’m Lila, Zara’s best friend.” She holds her hand forward. “What’s your name?” she asks the question with a light in her eyes that I feel is genuine. Maybe she truly doesn’t know who I am. Good!
“Nice to meet you, Lila, I’m Ja?—”
“He goes by Zeus,” Zara interrupts me. I look down at her in surprise, and she blushes. Interesting. Hmm, she doesn’t want to know my name. Her body language tells me that she’s into me. Every part of her body is leaning toward me, and the looks she keeps darting at me do nothing to hide the fact that she finds me attractive. So then, why doesn’t she want to know my name? The answer strikes me so hard that it makes me laugh out loud. She doesn’t want to know my name because she doesn’t want this to be more than one night.
“Apparently.” I nod, then grab Zara’s neck and pull her toward me. I press my lips against her and feel her little gasp as her friend stares at her. I kiss her softly at first, and she kisses me back, her fingers finding my shoulders so she can hold on for dear life. After a few seconds, I pull back reluctantly, and she stands there frozen in place, her eyes dazed.
“Wow,” her friend says, looking over at her. “You know this man?”
“Apparently,” Zara says as she looks at me with an impish grin. I grin back at her and tuck a loose curl behind her ear again. I reach for her hand and look at her friend, whose mouth is now slightly open.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us…” My voice is gruff as I look at Zara, and she gives me a slight nod. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” I smile warmly at Lila, brush past Hank, and lead Zara to the front of the bar. I’m not sure where we’re going, but I don’t want any more interruptions from her friends or mine. I have no idea who this woman is, but I know that by the end of the night, I will know her intimately.