Chapter Twenty-Five
Millie
" A re you ever going to let me cook?"
I lean over the back of the sofa, watching Jackson as he moves with ease around the kitchen. I'm not really noticing him cook though. I'm more fascinated by the way his broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his white T-shirt.
"After what happened last time?"
"I burnt some toast!"
"The whole building had to be evacuated." Jackson turns to look at me with a mischievous smirk.
"I think that says more about the sensitivity of your smoke alarms than my cookery skills. In my defence, you were distracting me..." He chuckles and raises an eyebrow in my direction.
"And how was I doing that again?" He turns away from the counter, his eyes on me, all thoughts of food gone. Like me, he's remembering the way our mouths burned as they moved together, that control of his slipping as his hands had found their way under my clothes. How he'd lifted me onto the counter, his fingers pressing into my hips. How my resolve had melted away. How waiting had gone from a sensible idea to a crazy one as my fingers had sought the buckle on his belt.
And then the damn alarm had gone off.
I'm still lost in that memory when Jackson cuts across the room and leaps over the back of the sofa in a move as swift as a gazelle. I'm giggling, happy and as light as air when he covers me with his body.
"Remind me," he mutters, those silver eyes blazing. His lips are full and inviting, and I don't wait any longer. I twist my fingers in his thick hair and pull his mouth down to meet mine. My legs wrap around his hips, and he moans. He’s hard already. I groan as his lips travel lower, seeking the sensitive skin of my neck. I want more, so much more, but we haven't gone further than that fleeting moment in his office. Jackson is waiting for me to take the lead on when I'm ready for sex, but the truth is, I am more than ready.
“Jackson?”
He half grunts, half growls in playful frustration into the hollow of my neck. His hands slip under my top, his fingers dancing over my ribs. I’m squirming below him, my thoughts splintering as heat blooms in my lower belly.
“Jackson…” What did I want to talk to him about again? His lips move lower, kissing the tops of my breasts over my shirt. “Jackson… stop.” And he does. His hazy eyes search out mine.
“Sorry, but you happen to be very distracting.” He moves to climb off me but I’m quick to grip onto his collar, keeping him close. His lips twitch into an irresistible smile.
I shake my head. "It's my birthday next week..."
"Twenty-one..." His smile fades like a bad memory is playing in his mind.
"What was your twenty-first like?" I can see by the flicker of pain in his eyes that I'd guessed right. "You can tell me." He's quiet for a moment, lost in time, somewhere I can't follow.
"I know," he says finally. "But we're talking about your day now. And your day will be amazing." The Jackson grin has returned, only the shadow of sadness remaining. I try to let go of my frustration. So much of Jackson's life is still a mystery to me. I get only glimpses, flashes of his past, of the events that shaped him. I want to know him, but he still won't let me in. Not yet, anyway, and it's why I still hold a little part of myself back. He can have my whole heart. It's already his, but only when he's ready to give me his. All of it.
"So tell me. What does the birthday girl want for her big day? You have a whole nightclub at your disposal. Or we can go anywhere, wherever you want?"
"There’s only one thing I want. You.”
The smile I get in response could light up the whole world. He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes scanning down my body.
“You have me. And you can have anything you want. Anything at all.” His lips are back on my neck.
“I want to stay over, I want…” The words drop from my lips as Jackson kisses his way down to my breasts, his teeth grazing over the fabric of my top. “I want you.”
He looks up at me. The expression on his face and seeing his swollen lips and mussed-up hair is making me throb even more.
“Tell me.” His voice is low, barely more than a gritty whisper. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
I bite my lip, feeling my hips move. Desperate for more. To feel more.
“I want, I want…”
“Say it.”
“I want a birthday cake!”
Jackson sits up, laughing hard, his head thrown back. He looks delicious. I sit upright and practically launch myself at him. I’m gripping his shirt, kissing his throat. He groans as my fingers slip under his shirt.
"With lots and lots icing." I let my lips curl around the words as I speak them against his skin.
He’s chuckling as he pushes me down till I’m once again on my back with his body over mine.
“And that’s all you want. Cake?”
He moves lower, teasing kisses over the bare skin of my belly as he pushes up my top. My fingers knot in his hair, the heat between my thighs growing as he moves ever lower.
“Millie… tell me…”
“I want to spend the night.”
He chuckles against my skin.
“And is that all you want? Nothing else…” He’s teasing me, his head lingering above my skin. He doesn’t move, no matter how much arch beneath him.
“Jackson…”
“Say it.”
“I want you. I want you inside me.”
“On your birthday?”
Now, it’s my turn to chuckle. “Yes, on my birthday.”
“So, my question is… does my girl want a preview?”
Before I’ve had a chance to answer, my jeans and underwear are being tugged down my thighs and off my legs. My stomach knots at the excitement. I’m whimpering, my hands still in Jackson’s hair, gripping tightly. He glances up at me through dark lashes, those metallic eyes sparkling, his lips quirked into a pure Jackson smirk. I think he might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Then he lowers his head between my thighs and runs his tongue up my seam. I cry out.
“Do you have any idea how good you taste?” He nibbles my inner thighs, and I’m gripping the fabric of the sofa, gasping loudly. I'm aching and wetter than I've ever been but still, he keeps that wicked mouth away from where I need it. "Do you want more?"
"Jackson…"
"Say it." His voice is a little demanding. I like it.
“Yes, more. Please!”
Jackson dips his head back between my thighs just as someone pounds on the door. Jackson makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan. Swearing under my breath, I scramble to tug back on my clothes as Jackson sits up, watching me.
"You gonna get that?" I tease. Jackson sighs, still staring at me as I dress, the content of his thoughts perfectly clear. The banging on the door starts again, and Jackson leaps over the settee, striding towards the door.
"Yeah, I'm coming."
I sit up, looking over the back of the settee as Jackson opens the door. Lucius is standing on the other side, his face screwed up angrily, the only expression I think I've ever seen him wear.
"Hey man, I wasn't expecting..."
Lucius says nothing. He just pushes a small pile of manilla files into Jackson's chest hard enough to make him grunt and take a step back.
"I'm not your errand boy. You let your love life distract you again and I won't cover for you." Lucius notices me for the first time. I can see from the look on his face that he would have chosen his words differently if he'd known I was here.
"Hi, Lucius," I say sweetly.
"Hey, Millie." He looks at me as if he's waiting for me to turn around, but I don't move. I just keep watching them both, the sweet-as-honey smile pasted to my lips. Whatever he wants to say to Jackson, he can say in front of me.
"I'm sorry, OK? Thanks for dropping it down. It won't happen again." Jackson sounds genuinely remorseful, but there's enough ice in his tone to make clear he won't accept Lucius speaking to him like that.
Lucius shakes his head.
"Sort yourself out. Got it?" He looks at Jackson and then at me, and I know he wants to say more.
"Bye, Lucius," I say as he lingers in the doorway. He looks at me and, with a grunt, turns and walks away.
Jackson sighs as he closes the door. Frustration and something else passes across his face.
"Are you OK?" He places the files on the kitchen counter nearest the door and absently starts flipping through.
"Yeah." He says long and slowly, stretching out the word. Then he looks up at me and smiles. "He's pretty much my brother. You know how brothers fight, right?"
"I get it." He doesn't say more, and I don't expect him to. I nod and turn back to the TV.
The cry comes a second later, followed by the sound of hollow thuds from stumbling feet. I instantly jump. My body launching off the settee before I even realise it. The blood pumping forcefully through my veins. Jackson is leaning over the counter, clinging to the side for support. His knuckles are white, and his body is tensed so hard he looks like he could shatter if I touch him.
"What is it?" I rush forward, but he puts up his hand to stop me and slowly looks up to meet my gaze.
"I'm OK, I'm OK." His voice is breathless and rough. "I just had a scare. A work thing. It's nothing."
I frown and take a few slow steps forward. His normally creamy skin is now stripped entirely of colour, and I can see his chest rising and falling heavily.
A work thing? Work made him react like this?
"Jackson?"
"Honestly, I'm fine." He shoots me this shaky smile that does nothing to convince me. "I think Lucius is playing a prank on me, slipping in a file that shouldn't be here. It's nothing."
As I walk closer, I notice a few sheets of paper scattered on the floor. He follows my gaze and drops to the floor to pick them up before I reach them. He gathers them up so swiftly he's panting.
"Millie... I need to go. I promise we'll talk about this later, but now..."
His eyes never leave me as he gathers the files and his jacket, and heads to the door. His eyes are wide, haunted. He's staring at me like I might disappear if he looks away. Turn to dust and drift away on the wind.
He's out the door without another word. Leaving me here, surrounded by his things, his world, the scent of him clinging to the air. I wrap my arms around myself and breathe him in deeply. The dark and richly spicy scent that is Jackson, that I smell on my clothes hours after I've left him. That triggers the ache between my thighs when I'm lying in bed, thinking of his touch. Standing still in the centre of his life. A life I still don't know.