Chapter 7 #2
I take in the sight of him, he is wearing dark blue jeans and a black jumper that hugs every muscle he is apparently riddled with.
On his wrist is a watch that I bet cost more than my car.
His hair is covered under a black baseball cap and the tattoos on his neck are the only ones visible, the light making them look more menacing than usual.
That and the scowl that seems to have frozen into his brows makes him seem almost dangerous. Hot.
“Why do you look pissed off?” My drunken brain decides to ask.
Is now a good time to mention the two bottles of wine that me and Jess demolished over dinner before she decided it was a good idea to continue to a bar for cocktails and more wine?
Jack slides closer to me, his arm brushing against mine, the heat of it sends a shiver through me.
He leans down so his head is near my ear.
I tell myself it’s just so I can hear him over the music, that doesn’t stop the goosebumps that form on my neck as he says, “I’ve had a pretty shitty week, a beautiful woman turned me down and I missed three easy goals.
But my luck seems to be changing now.” He shrugs as his eyes unashamedly map my body from head to toe and back up again.
His proximity makes my heart rate quicken and pump almost violently against my rib cage. Despite that, I feel myself leaning closer to him and breathing him in; he smells of expensive aftershave—spicy and woodsy at the same time. Intoxicating.
Hmmm, speaking of getting laid… Wait. No. Not Jack.
I flinch my head back so quickly I lose my balance in my ridiculous five-inch heels, that I know are going to give me blisters along with my hangover tomorrow. A strong arm catches me around the waist and steadies me. “Ooh, thank you,” I gulp as he straightens me back out.
Once I am steady, Jack doesn’t remove is hand from my waist, and I can’t help but hope it’s because he doesn’t want to let go.
A low hum prickles my skin where his hand rests against me, as if an electric current runs between us.
He gives me one more once over to check I am stable and turns back to the bar to place the rest of his order.
My skin prickles where he now strokes his thumb absentmindedly up and down on my hip.
Is he meaning to do this? The slow sensation ripples down to my core and I feel myself loosen with every massaging swipe of his thumb.
Fuck, if only his hand on my hip feels this good what would the rest of him on me feel like?
“Who are you with?” His question shocks me out of my progressively dirty thoughts. I must jump because he quickly drops his hand as he scans the crowd behind me as if looking for my companions.
“Just Jess, my best friend from work, my real job that is. Where I'm paid. Not my fun free labour job, where I get to watch fit men run around,” I ramble. “She’s over there somewhere.” I vaguely wave behind my shoulder narrowly missing gouging someone in the eye.
“Fit men?” He smirks and raises an eyebrow. Shit, I thought I’d got away with that one. He lets me off quickly by asking, “What is your real job?”
“I’m a children’s nurse.” I grin.
“Wow! that must be…”
“Rewarding. Fulfilling. Challenging?” I offer the most standard answers to the end of that sentence.
“I was going to say, really shitty to be honest. Kids getting sick just shouldn't be a thing,” he replies.
“Yeah,” I agree with a small shrug. “And yet it is…” I sigh and examine my fingernails for something to do. “Wow, sorry, I've really brought the vibe down, haven't I. It’s all those other things too. I love my job!” I grin up at Jack.
“Can’t say it’s really my vibe in here, anyway.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers around ‘my vibe’ and answers my grin with one of his own.
Oooh fuck, there it is, the panty dropper smile.
“Yeah, me neither, Jess only brought me here ‘cause she thought she could get me laid,” I throw a hand over my mouth trying to stuff that sentence back in. I really shouldn’t be allowed to talk to humans after I’ve had a drink. Filter = 0.
He barks out a laugh at my admission, throwing his head back and warmth spreads through my chest at the fact that I have made him laugh like that.
When his gaze returns to me it is more intense than I’ve ever seen it.
He looks at me as if he is starving. A new, different, down low, kind of warmth spreads through me at that look coming from him.
I know his look of hunger is mirrored on my face because how could I not want this man? Especially when he looks at me like that.
His face drops as he asks, “How much have you had to drink?”
The heat that was running through me is doused with freezing cold ice. “None of your fucking business,” I snap.
Jack’s eyebrows raise as he takes in my sudden rage, he lifts his hands in surrender.
His question has triggered the memory of Chris counting my drinks every time we went out.
He would tell me I was ‘being too loud’ or ‘dancing too much’.
I was always embarrassing him. Who the fuck does Jack think he is trying to ruin my first proper night out with my friends in years.
I am brought out of my anger when Jack turns on me and pushes my back against the bar. He places one arm on either side of me, caging me in, his body aligned with mine. I can feel every single one of his hard muscles against me.
“How much you have had to drink is my fucking business.” His voice sound rough and I can feel his breath against my neck.
“Because I would more than happily help your friend get you laid.” He leans even closer into my ear, so his next words are just for me.
“As soon as I saw you in that dress, I've had images of taking you home, bending you over my couch and testing how hard you like to be fucked. And I’d like to know if you can consent to that.”
I can feel the evidence of his confession against my hip, and it feels like a lot of evidence, if you catch my drift.
His eyes are blazing and locked on mine.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, apparently as parched as I suddenly am.
A small gasp makes its way through my lips as I put my hand on his chest to pull him closer, or push him away? I don't know.
His heart is racing under my hands and it’s slightly comforting to know he is affected by me as much as I am by him. “Why didn’t you use my number?” He asks, yielding no space between us.
“I...” I feel a blush make its way up my cheeks as I avoid his eyes. “I don’t know,” I admit, suddenly very unsure as to why I haven’t contacted this man.
“You can use it tonight when you get home, to let me know you’re safe.” He winks.
He fucking winks.
And shit, if it is the sexiest thing I have ever seen any man do, ever.
He’s so fucking gorgeous. Why haven’t I contacted this man before?
What a perfect person to help me get back on the horse.
He clearly wants me. He would know what he was doing.
He probably looks incredible naked. Scratch that, he will one hundred percent look incredible naked.
I don’t know if it’s his previous confession or the alcohol that gives me the confidence to reply, “You could always come home with me and then you would know.”
Jack’s head falls back, and I feel his groan rumble in his chest under my hand.
“Fuck. I want nothing more, but I won’t be coming home with you tonight,” he grunts out through gritted teeth.
He leans his head down and his lips gently brush mine.
“You will let me know that you’re back safe.
Or I might just turn up to check on you in the morning. ”
I let out an incredulous laugh at his warning, like he would just show up at my house the morning after seeing me on a night out. He leans further into me, crushing me against the bar. “Don’t test me, Em. I don’t break my promises.”
I don’t reply because it’s fucking ridiculous that he would even think about showing up at my house if I didn’t text him to say I was home. He’s probably going to forget this whole conversation in half an hour and find some other girl to do that couch thing he promised with.
Damn shame.
Jack doesn’t say anything else, but he also doesn’t move away.
Neither do I. Our eyes are locked, chests moving together as we breathe each other’s air.
It’s as if we are daring the other to make a move.
Seeing how far the other will go. He’s warm and solid, his arms cage me in, making me feel as if this space is just for us.
His tongue sweeps out, wetting his bottom lip making it look delectable. Kissable.
I tilt my head slightly and raise on my toes to close the gap between us. Fuck it. I want to know what that lip tastes like. Just one kiss. He bends his head closer.
“OH MY GOD! Are you Jack Cartwright!!??” A very loud, very annoying female voice makes both of our heads snap up, saving me from my choice.
I drop my hands from Jacks chest as if he has burned me. We both look over to where the voice has come from, behind us at the bar. The very public bar that I just almost kissed a very famous person in.
What am I doing?
I blame the Sauvignon.
I push Jack on the chest slightly and he reluctantly steps back, dropping his arms to his sides. His eyes, still dark and wanting, don’t leave mine.
“It is you, isn't it! Oh my god!!” The woman is shouting now, and she tugs his left arm to turn him around.
He looks at me expression now pained and sighs through his nose, “Stay here,” He orders and starts to turn, only to double back and add, “please.” Then his whole face changes into cocky media Jack and he turns around.
So that one is the act then?
“Hi!” he says enthusiastically. “Yes, it’s me, would you like a picture?” he asks the blonde who has waved three of her friends over. I can’t help but admire how quickly he can change into his ‘man of the fans’ persona.
A small group forms around Jack, and they all have their phones out. I spin quickly to face the bar. I do not want to end up on some tabloid as Jack Cartwright's latest conquest.
I glance back and Jack is in full press mode.
I don’t know how he does it, all the attention, the constantly having to smile and answer questions.
Of course, it can’t sting too much when four stunning blondes want to get in close for a picture.
I notice he has his hands firmly clasped together in front of him as the girls all but fight each other for his attention.
Movement at the bar takes my attention back from Jack and his groupies. Six glasses are placed in front of me. Ahh yes, the drinks I ordered and abruptly forgot about in favour of feeling Jack’s semi-erect penis rub against my hip. Man, if that was it only partially erect…
No.
No. We are done with that now. That was too close.
I put the drinks on a tray—HA, good luck drunk to Emily trying to balance these—and risk another glance at media Jack. He is surrounded by even more fans now, smiling, taking pictures.
I shake my head and smile at myself, who am I even kidding, thinking about fucking him? We are from completely different worlds.