18. Izzy
Izzy
My house feels too quiet when I walk through the door.
I drop my keys on the counter, kick off my shoes, and stand in my dark living room.
Tonight’s author event was a success. Sales have been strong, customers are happy, and I can barely keep up with restocking the shelves.
The numbers are finally moving in the right direction.
I might actually be able to pull off the expansion. But right now, I’m exhausted.
The bad news is my mother stopped by the shop and hinted she’d need money for rent again before she lectured me on running a bookstore. She doesn’t like my displays. The books are too expensive. And apparently, I’m wasting my time making bookmarks and totes for the shop.
I smiled through all of it because that’s what I do. I learned long ago that it’s easier to go along with her than fight. But I’ve been slowly unraveling on the inside for years now, and I don’t know how much more I can take.
I pull my phone from my purse. Three missed calls from my mom.
Nothing from Jack. It’s been five days since I woke up in his bed, and he’s been on the road ever since. He’s flying back to Boston tonight.
The sting of disappointment catches me off guard. I wanted to hear his voice before he got on the plane. Which is new. And terrifying.
A shower. That’s what I need. A bad day, a long day, a confusing day can always be solved with a shower.
The bathroom mirror fogs over as I turn the water as hot as I can stand it. I step under the spray and close my eyes, drop my shoulders, feel my body begin to melt under the heat beating against my skin.
Everyone always needs something.
When was the last time someone just wanted me? Not for what I can do or handle or solve? Just me.
I’m doing a shitty job keeping business separate from pleasure. Those lines blurred real fast between Jack and me. But god, I’m tired of being careful and doing the right thing all the time.
When the water cools, I brace myself for the cold air of the bathroom and step out.
As much as I want to crawl into bed, I promised Peyton I would wash Luca’s clothes for her when he slept over last night.
And then, because I’m basically the mouse from that kid’s story, I’ll do laundry and stumble upon a whole list of things demanding my attention.
If you give Izzy laundry, then Izzy will order more detergent because she’s running out.
If you give Izzy the internet, she’ll find a new book to read.
If she finds a new book to read, she’ll remember all the bills she has to pay…
I slip on a T-shirt and sleep shorts. I’m brushing my hair when a knock at the door makes my stomach drop. I toss the hairbrush aside and yank on a hoodie.
It’s almost one in the morning.
“Izzy. It’s me.”
Jack.
I pad through the living room, unlocking the deadbolt with shaking hands, and pull open the door.
Jack is standing on my front porch, his duffel slung over his shoulder. He’s still in his suit, even if his tie’s gone and the collar’s open. His hair is sticking up in about six different directions, but he looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping him upright.
“What are you—”
“Can I come in?” He doesn’t move, waiting for me to answer. “I couldn’t go home when all I wanted was to be here. With you.”
I step aside and open the door wider. “Sure,” I whisper.
He drops his bag by the door, and we just stand in my living room, the air between us so charged I can barely breathe.
“Why are you really here?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because last night on the phone, I…” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Izzy.”
My heart drops. “Can’t do what?”
“Pretend.” He steps closer. “Act like this is just some arrangement. Like I don’t want you every second of every day. You’re all I fucking think about.”
“Jack, we said…”
“I know what we said.” He stands toe to toe with me. “But I don’t care about rules anymore, or why this ever started. I need you to tell me it’s not just me feeling this way.”
I want to lie. Want to protect myself, keep the walls up, and stay safe behind the rules we made.
But I can’t. I’ve been lying to myself for weeks, telling myself it’s just physical, just fun, just temporary. But standing here, looking at this man who flew across the country after a game and then drove nearly another hour just to see me in the middle of the night…
I can’t lie anymore. “No, it’s not just you.”
His hands cup my face, and the second his mouth meets mine, my patience snaps. The kiss is urgent, almost rough, as if he’s terrified he doesn’t believe me and I’ll pull away. I don’t. It’s messy, breathless, and too much and not enough all at once.
We break apart, both breathing hard, and he kisses my forehead.
Jack dips, hooking his arm behind my knees, and scoops me up. I yelp, laughing into his neck until he pushes through to my bedroom and sets me gently onto the bed.
He doesn’t give me time to think.
Jack’s mouth crashes into mine again. His hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips, pulling me hard against him. I gasp, the sound swallowed by his kiss.
“Get on your knees,” he says.
I push up on the mattress, doing as he asks.
We’re a tangle of hands as we urgently undress. My fingers tug at his jacket until it falls to the floor. He shrugs it off without breaking our kiss, like he can’t stand even a second more between us. My back arches when his hands slide under my sweatshirt, skin on skin.
I break away just long enough to breathe. “Too many clothes,” I grunt.
“I know,” he says, foreheads pressed together. “I know.”
He pushes my T-shirt up and over my head, his eyes darkening, and my breasts spring free. He palms them, his thumbs flicking over my nipples. I tug him close by his belt loop, my fingers shaking as I unzip him, and he steps out of his pants and underwear.
“Still okay?” he asks.
That almost undoes me more than the way he touches me. I nod, unable to find my voice.
He crawls up onto the bed on his knees, holding me to his body, his hands softening as they skirt up my spine.
Jack kisses me slower now, deeper, guiding us back until he rests against my headboard.
My hands slide over his shoulders, tracing the line of his chain around his neck, the tattoos on his arms. I’m stuck somewhere between magic and a memory.
Like, we’ve been here before, and yet I can’t stop, too afraid I’ll wake up.
“This is different,” I whisper, climbing onto his lap. His cock presses against me, and he hisses.
He stills, resting his forehead against mine. “Yeah, I think so. Too much? We can stop.”
I shake my head.
For a second, the weight of that hangs between us. Then he reaches over to my nightstand, grabs a condom, and rolls it onto himself. His fingers draw a slow circle against my clit until I feel like my skin is on fire.
Fuck, I need him. Need to feel him.
“I’ve got you,” Jack says softly, guiding me above him.
And I believe him.
“Take a breath for me, baby.”
I nod, digging my fingers into his shoulder blades, inhaling. As the air pushes out of my lungs, Jack thrusts his hips and slowly slides into me with a moan that drives me crazy.
I love that he’s not quiet.
“I can’t…”
He kisses my temple, wrapping his arm tighter around me. “You can take it all. I know you can. I’m right here.”
I adjust my hips, sinking against him until he fills me, inch by inch.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he whispers. “Look at how pretty you look riding me.”
I feel pushed to my limits, stretched, and so full. His skin is warm against mine, his lips sweet and urgent at my neck, and I finally wrap my arms tighter and lift my hips to take all of him, until, with one long thrust, he slides in.
“This feels…” I can’t finish.
We weren’t going to do this. We said we wouldn’t.
But it feels so good. So perfect.
“Take your time, Iz.”
We stay still for only a minute before I rock against him, dragging my clit against his body. I feel the first ripple of fire build beneath my skin.
“Like that, sweetheart.” One of Jack’s hands tangles in my hair, the other grips my hip, guiding me up and down. The feel of him against me, inside, is almost too much.
Pleasure coils deep inside of me, and when he brings his hand from my hip to circle his thumb against my clit, it spikes, chasing through my body.
He bends, drawing my nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin until I’m panting again, overwhelmed by the way his body makes mine feel. Jack scoops his other arm beneath me, lowers us so my back is to the mattress, then thrusts inside of me, deep.
I cry out, my body trembling, on the edge until he does it one more time. My orgasm rips through me, and I rake my fingers against his shoulder blades, his pace relentless as I fall back into myself.
“That’s my girl. So pretty when you come,” he grunts. “I fucking missed you. You drive me crazy, Iz.” He drives into me again. “And I can’t get enough of you. Can’t…”
I shift my hips, allowing him deeper. The feel of him draws another throaty sigh from me. “Show me.”
Jack presses a kiss between my breasts, slowly pulling out. “Can I?” he asks.
“Yes,” is all I manage.
On a strangled groan, he rolls the condom off and tosses it aside. He drops to his knees above me, pumps his hand over his cock twice, then comes, spilling himself over my stomach.
For a minute, we stay still, before I blink hard, trying to realign myself to what just happened.
“That felt…” I say.
He bends to kiss me. It’s slow and lingering. “I know,” he says with a small chuckle. “Perfect. Fucking perfect.”
After he cleans me up with a warm cloth, we lie tangled together, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare shoulder as I listen to his heartbeat.
“You okay?” His voice rumbles against my ear.
“Yeah. You?”
“Better than okay.” He kisses my temple. “But don’t kick me out of your bed, please. I’m fucking wiped.”
Panic spikes. I want him here, I do, but do we go back to pretending after this? “We have Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
“It’ll be fine.” He yawns, draws me closer, and we kiss slowly until what starts tender becomes heated. “Wait,” he mumbles against my lips. “No, let’s go again. Great idea.”
I playfully shove at his chest, then snuggle in beside him. My phone vibrates on the nightstand, my mom’s name lighting up the screen. I ignore it, breathing him in.
I know this is reckless. Know I’m setting myself up for heartbreak.
But lying here in his arms, his heartbeat steady against my ear, I can’t bring myself to care.
We’ve broken every rule. No kissing. No sex.
No feelings. All of it shattered, because I couldn’t stay away from him, and this small slice of hope filled my chest that maybe it’d be different this time.
Just for tonight, I’ll let myself have this. I’ll let myself believe he means it when he says he’s not going anywhere.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to being careful.