Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
JACKSON
Park City, Utah
My eyes open slowly and I glance around the dark room. It takes me a second to figure out where I am, and another second to remember how I got into this bed.
Heat flashes through my body, as I remember Nate carrying me in here last night.
The way he cradled me gently in his arms, the way I grabbed his hand as he turned to leave.
My entire body and soul ached for him; I wanted so badly for him to stay, but thankfully I didn’t let my guard down and tell him that. And then, the dream.
It’s been a while since I was plagued by dreams of Nate.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by their reemergence now that he’s back, but I wish last night’s had been less graphic.
I can’t remember the whole thing, but flashes of passion are burning their way through my memory—the hot breath on my nipple as his mouth closed around it, the smooth sliding of his fingers over the tender flesh above my entrance, the slick friction of him sliding into me, the trail of wet kisses up my chest and across my collarbone.
The feeling of being well loved in the most primal way.
Even now, my core is clenching involuntarily as I remember the feel of his skin against mine.
The pulsing is there, just like it was in my dream.
I woke up a minute too soon. If I’d stayed asleep, I’m confident I would have orgasmed.
That’s never happened to me in my sleep before, but I’m that close.
I try to breathe through the aching emptiness, but that throbbing in my center, the need for release, is so great I suspect I’ll come if I even touch myself.
As if responding to the thought, my core clenches again and waves of longing roll through me, curling my hips up in need.
The vision of Nate over me, pushing into me, has me plunging two fingers into myself at once.
It doesn’t feel half as amazing as I know Nate does, but it only takes a few strokes for me to feel my muscles tightening.
I roll on my stomach, my face buried in the pillow as I drive my hips down on my fingers and ride wave after wave of the pleasure brought on by imagining that my fingers are Nate.
I freeze, afraid for a moment that there’ll be a repeat of the tub incident. I rolled face-first onto that pillow so I didn’t call out his name. But did I moan it in my sleep? I couldn’t possibly explain that away a second time.
You idiot, I chastise myself as I lie there. This attraction I feel for Nate is bad; absolutely no good can come of that and it has the potential for so much harm. Marco. My job. My heart.
But this insane attraction is how I’ve always felt around him.
He was my first, and for years, he was my only.
I’ve had sex with that man on five continents, and unlike what I hear always happens, the sex never slowed down, the desire never dulled.
Instantly my mind goes to the last time we had sex, in France right before my accident.
I can picture clearly my legs wrapped around Nate’s waist, my hands pinned above my head as he fucked me up against the wall of the cabin we rented in Val d’Isère.
I can feel his chest rubbing against mine with each thrust, hear the sound of our bodies slapping together, smell the scent of our sex.
And, just like that, my clit is aching, my core clenching again.
I reach up under my shirt and rub my thumb across my nipple, then roll it between my thumb and forefinger, sending another shiver throughout my body, over and over again.
With my other hand I reach between my legs, dipping my finger back into the dampness there and bringing that up to rub over my clit.
I feel both sensitive and desensitized from having multiple orgasms in the past few hours—the need is there, but I’m too sensitive and the orgasm doesn’t come easily.
I dip two fingers back into my folds, curling them to reach that spot deep inside that Nate’s dick always managed to hit in just the right way.
Grinding the heel of my hand over my clit, I picture Nate and me in the bedroom of that cabin in France, but this time I picture the way he bent me over the dresser, sliding into me from behind.
We watched our lovemaking in the mirror, watched his hips meet mine in a steady rhythm while his hands played with my bouncing breasts before trailing down to stroke between my legs.
Our eyes never left each other’s. When he picked up the pace and we were both panting from chasing the edge of our orgasm, he wrapped one hand around my ponytail and gently pulled my head back so I was looking up at him in the mirror.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he grunted between clenched teeth.
My heart ached for him in that moment, my strong, always in control boyfriend who let down his guard long enough to show that he needed my reassurance. “Always yours,” I told him, right as the orgasm slammed through me.
This time there are tears rolling down my face as the waves of pleasure roll through me. What we shared—not just the extraordinary physical connection, but the way we felt about each other—I just don’t think I’ll ever feel that way about anyone again.
Don’t be ridiculous, a voice inside my head says as I pull my shirt back down and find the underwear I don’t remember removing.
You’re only feeling this way because you’re around him all the time.
And that may be true. I mean, I wasn’t fantasizing about Nate and getting myself off to visions of us having sex before he showed back up in my life.
Of course, I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm like any of the three I’ve had in the last twelve hours.
But how can I possibly be so attracted to him after everything he put me through?
On the other side of the bathroom door I hear the shower go on, and I glance at the clock. It’s 5:30 a.m. Nate’s still an early riser.
I’m overcome by the desperate need to get out of here, away from him—to put as much distance between us as possible.
I climb out of bed and quietly pull on the leggings and sweatshirt I wore here, throw my pajama pants and phone into the bag I brought, and open the door to the suite.
As I expected, the living room is empty as I sneak across it and slide on the snow boots I left at the entry.
I shut the door behind me as quietly as possible.
The cab ride back to my condo proves to be a productive mental exercise.
I arrive home having concluded that my dream was brought on by last night’s apology, which I desperately needed to hear.
While he didn’t apologize for everything or even explain why he just left like that and never came back, obviously knowing that he was sorry and regretted at least some of his choices softened my attitude toward him enough to let my subconscious take over.
Which, if I want to protect myself from getting hurt like he hurt me before, can’t happen again.
Since I can’t get out of training him and still keep my job, I need to enact an exit plan, stat. The text I receive from my dad after turning on my gas fireplace reaffirms my decision.
Dad
The doctor just called with the results of the PET scan. It’s not good. Small cancerous tumors on gallbladder and liver. Starting chemo next week. Then they’ll reassess and maybe remove part of the liver.
I sit down on my kitchen floor, trying to process what this means.
Mom’s cancer has spread. Despite over a decade of gene therapy to repress the cancer, it’s started to grow and is creeping into other organs.
And the fact that it’s in both the gallbladder and liver is catastrophic.
The liver has always been the worst case scenario because the survival rates are extremely low.
Jackson
I’m so sorry, Dad. Do you want me to come home? I can take medical leave and be there to help out.
Of course I just used up all my vacation time going to Italy. Of. Freaking. Course. That’s okay, I can sublet out my condo, do a seasonal rental or something, and go home for the next few months if they need me. I have savings I can fall back on if I need to.
Dad
Honestly, there’s nothing you can do if you’re here. It’s a lot of sitting around and waiting. Now that I’m retired, I have nothing but time on my hands.
Jackson
Okay, but if you change your mind and need me there, just ask. I will drop everything and come home. I want to be there.
Dad
I know you will, honey. But it’s not necessary. Not now, at least. We’ll see you at Thanksgiving, as planned.
Jackson
Have you told Beau this is going on?
Dad
I haven’t really heard from him in months. Guess I’ll need to call him with this news.
Mentally, I curse my brother for being so absent. I know he and my dad have some issues, but he’s always been so close to Mom.
Jackson
Let me know how *that* conversation goes. And if you need anything from me, call or text any time.
Dad
I will.
Jackson
Can I call and talk to Mom, or does she not want to talk about this yet?
Dad
Definitely give her a call, but maybe later tonight because she has an important meeting with a new client today.
Jackson
Okay, I’ll call her after work. Love you!
Dad
Love you too. Have a good day.
I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my forehead on them, letting the tears come.
How has everything gone to shit so quickly?
A month ago, things were perfect. I had an amazing job that I loved doing every single day, my relationship with Marco wasn’t being threatened by the return of my ex-boyfriend, and my parents were living their dream retirement up at Blackstone, with my dad spending his time on the board of directors for the mountain and my mom taking on the occasional interior design project as a creative outlet.