23. Stone
STONE
My skin prickles, and my hands are clammy.
I haven’t felt this way since I’ve been around my father. Since he berated me as a teen. Since he said some serious shit to me before I left for college.
Any idea how hard it is to make a living with a guitar? Wait. Let me ask again. Any idea how foolish it is to think you’ll be the one in a million who makes a living with it? Are you a fool? Did I raise a fool?
I cringe, his voice raw and harsh in my ear, like he’s saying it now.
Because I feel like a fool right this second, wanting all this stuff I can’t have.
Wanting my bodyguard.
I pace through my hotel room, wishing I knew what the hell was going on out there with Cruz and Jackson.
I have no clue though.
And also . . . I’m still in the buff.
I head to the closet, grab a pair of lounge pants, and pull them on. There. Now I don’t feel so damn vulnerable. But the clothes aren’t doing anything to jimmy the truckload of nerves parked on my chest.
Why the hell am I this twisted up?
What’s the worst that can happen? Jackson comes back in and says, “Game over”?
That was always in the cards.
Trouble is, my chest seizes at that horrid thought.
I set my hand on my sternum, rubbing it, like I can ease away this ball of nerves.
Because, hell, I’ve never felt anything like this, the way I ache at the possibility that we might not touch again. I’ve never felt anything like the way he touches me. The way he talks to me before, during, and after sex is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Pretty sure he’s the only person I’ve slept with who doesn’t make me feel like he or she is sleeping with a rock star. He’s the only person who makes me feel like I’m simply a man.
Not a prize. Not a notch on the “I banged a rocker” belt. He makes me feel like . . . me .
I swallow roughly. I need to get my act together, slow down these crazy thoughts. I head to the bar, pour some whiskey, and knock back half a glass, needing the burn.
I drum my fingers on the bar.
What is taking so long?
Fine, it’s only been a few minutes. Still. I want my man.
I mean, I want Jackson.
The door snicks open. I rub my thumb and forefinger together, hoping it went well.
Jackson strides in and shuts the door, his gaze roving over me. A grin curves his lips, and just like that, relief flows through me.
“Are you staying the night with me?” I ask.
He arches a playful brow. “It’s going to cost you a pizza. That’s all the man wants.”
“Some men are easy like that, evidently.” I head to the couch and flop down on it like I’ve tossed the weight of the world off my shoulders. And I have.
Because I get this man for the rest of the night. Maybe for longer. Maybe a week.
That’s what I want.
The knot of tension skips off into the ether. Good riddance.
Jackson joins me on the couch. As I grab the room service menu, I drape an arm around his shoulders. “This place has the best pizza I’ve had in ages.”
He stares quizzically at my arm around him.
I give him a what’s the big deal look. “What? I can’t put my arm around you while we call room service?”
He rolls his eyes. “Did I say it bothered me?”
“No. But you’re giving me a look like it bothers you.”
“It’s literally the first time you’ve put your arm around my shoulder. I was just noticing it. Because that’s what I do. I notice things.”
I tilt my head. “And what do you notice about it?”
He pats my hand on his shoulder. “That I like it. Okay? I like your arm around me.”
And my damn heart, it does some kind of jumping jack in my chest.
I smile happily as I survey the pizza choices. “All right, let’s get the man a large pie. Think he wants mozzarella?—”
Jackson’s fingers dig into my side, and the bastard tickles me.
Thump.
The room service menu falls to the floor.
“Stop, stop!” I beg, laughing as I fall back against the cushions, trying to escape.
He chuckles as he tickles me more, and I fight like hell to wriggle away from him. Motherfucker is strong, though, and I can barely escape his tickling hand. “You dickhead. You were waiting for the moment to do that,” I say when he relents.
He grins, his eyes wicked. “I was indeed, and it worked.”
“I hope it was worth it.”
“Absolutely worth it.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but I can’t stay mad. I’m having a blast.
We place the order for Cruz, and when I hang up the phone, Jackson looks down at my clothes. “You got dressed.”
I shrug. “I put on lounge pants. Did you want me naked?”
“Not gonna lie. I really like the way you look naked. But”—he tugs at the waistband of my lounge pants—“I like the way you look in these too. Casual sexy.”
“We’re having a pajama party, so I had to put on my pj’s,” I say with a wink.
“Do you want me to put mine on? I sleep naked.”
I thrust both arms in the air. “Commando, for the win.”
His expression turns serious. “So, I’m spending the night? For real?”
“Um, yes. That’s what the whole pizza negotiation was about. Don’t back out now.”
He smiles softly. “I won’t. I’m just kind of amazed.”
My chest squeezes. “Me too. And I want you to stay the night, J. And not because I’m horny for you, though I absolutely am.”
He grins.
But I don’t return the smile. This is a chance to say something that matters. “I like being with you. It’s that simple.”
A faint pink hue spreads across his cheeks.
Whoa.
I run my fingertip over the spot of color. “You just blushed.”
He dips his head. “Sometimes I do that.”
“Did I make you blush?”
“Yeah, you did. It was nice. I liked it. All right? Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he mutters, and it’s adorable how he tries to deny that the heat in his cheeks is a big deal.
It is a huge deal.
But I’m not going to press. I’m simply going to enjoy this delicious detail about him.
Jackson clears his throat and sets a hand on my knee. “What about your brother? You had a deal with him. What does this do to that deal?”
“The deal,” I repeat, buying some time.
Am I going to tell Jackson what the true stakes were? That Zane and I made a deal we wouldn’t fall in love?
“Because you said earlier we were already involved,” Jackson says, and there’s my answer.
I don’t have to tell him.
I already said enough.
But it feels good to let him know what he’s doing to me. “I do feel that way, J. I don’t know what it means. But I feel like there’s something going on here.” I meet his eyes, trying to read what he’s feeling.
He takes a beat, running his hand up my thigh. “Yeah. Me too.” It comes out heavily.
“What are we going to do with that?”
He sighs, still touching my knee. “I don’t know. There’s so much at stake. And I don’t know if I’m . . .”
I finish the thought for him, since I bet he’s thinking about Fabian. “Ready for anything more?”
“Right,” he says quickly, then gives a casual shrug. “But hey, you’re probably not either, right? That’s not your style.”
It hasn’t been my style, true. But my style is changing with him. Trouble is, I also don’t want to feel those nerves again. I don’t want to be made a fool.
I spent enough time playing that role when I was growing up. Don’t need to now.
I keep it cool.
“Let’s make a deal between you and me, then.
” A deal is so much easier than anything else.
And besides, I shouldn’t take chances with things like love.
Things I know nothing about. Foolish things I don’t have time for.
“Let’s make a deal that we’re going to fuck each other’s brains out for the next seven days. ”
Jackson arches a brow. “You mean I’ll fuck your brains out.”
I roll my eyes. “Do you ever let anyone top you?”
He’s dead serious when he says, “Not often.”
“Why not?”
He blinks, like he’s thinking it over. “I suppose I like it that way. Same reason I like protecting people. I like taking care of people. And in bed, I like to be the one who makes sure everyone is happy. Everyone is having a good time.”
The honesty in his answer hooks into my chest and shimmies around there.
Settle down, heart. You’re in time-out.
“And you know I’m having a blast. But if I wanted to top you ever, would you let me?”
He pauses before he asks the next question. “Are you asking me right now?”
I laugh, then shake my head. “I told you before, I don’t care. If you want to spend this entire week fucking me over and over again, I’m more than happy with that. I love the way you feel inside me.” I put that out there so he knows I’m 100 percent good with our roles in the bedroom.
His hazel eyes shine with desire again. “I love being inside you.” He threads a hand through my hair, tugging on it. “But if you’re serious about topping me sometime, we can talk about that. I don’t want to be the kind of person who lays down the law and doesn’t bend.”
He’s making it hard not to fall for him.
Best to focus on the sex.
Yep. That’s what I need to do.
I slide my hand along his thigh, up to his crotch, and squeeze his dick. “Right now, I’m pretty happy with you laying down this law inside me.”
“Good answer,” he says with a smile, but it disappears again. “The deal with your brother about not getting involved. You’re okay with throwing it to the wayside? I want to respect your deal if you want me to.”
And there he goes again, making me like him so damn much.
But there is no place for that. So, hell, it’s a damn good thing I have the deal. I intend to honor it.
There is no way I’m going to let myself fall in love with Jackson Pearce, no matter how my heart feels around him. I’m not going to give it away for the first time ever to someone who’s unavailable to me.
Because his heart’s still burned from his last romantic encounter.
“Zane is cool. He’s doing a great job on the show. It’s all good.” I tap his chest. “And besides, you and me? We have unfinished business. We need to get this out of our systems, and that’s what we’ll do, right? Then we’ll move on.”
He swallows, looks away, then answers quietly. “That’s it. We’ll move on. Should be fine, since you told me you don’t get serious.”