25. Jackson
JACKSON
I only have eyes for eggs, potatoes, salsa, and coffee.
But the efficient woman who delivers them is empirically attractive. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A pretty smile.
She gestures to the room service tray. “There you go, Stone. Everything you ordered, including the quinoa and papaya. Chai and coffee too.”
“Thank you so much, Becca. As always, you are a goddess of all things good in the morning.”
With a professional smile, she says, “My pleasure. Always happy to do it.”
She spins on her heel, gives me a wave, and then leaves the room.
My stomach rumbles as I stare hungrily at the spread. “How did you know”—I point to the food—“that these are all my favorites?”
He holds his arms out wide. “Do you not get it? I pay attention to you.”
That thing my stomach did earlier? Pretty sure it’s a backflip this time. “I’m just not used to it.” But that’s not what you say when someone orders you your favorite breakfast. I meet his gaze and speak from the heart. “Thank you. This is great, and I needed it, and I appreciate it.”
“I had a feeling I’d be working you out in the morning.
” Stone gestures to the table, and we sit.
He takes a long pull of his tea, then sighs happily.
“Also, you don’t have to worry about Becca seeing you in the room and gabbing.
I know her. She’s my reg. She works directly for Sage and is all about discretion. ”
I tap my temple. “I read the reports. I know the agenda. I know that Sage assigns her top VIP concierges to handle you.”
He leans across the table, grabs my cheeks, and smushes them. “Nothing gets past you.”
“True, but thank you for the reassurance,” I say when he lets go. “I appreciate that too.”
We dig into our food, and I take a drink of my coffee but keep thinking of Becca. Might as well broach the topic. “Can I ask you something?”
“Hit me up.”
I tip my head to the door. “Were you attracted to her? She’s a good-looking woman.”
Stone gives a light shrug, like it’s no big deal. “She’s pretty.”
“But were you attracted to her?”
“No. I’m not attracted to everyone.”
“I get that. But I’m trying to get a sense if she’s your type when it comes to women. I’m curious if you have a type for women, and for men.”
“Does it bother you? That I’m bi?”
I snort-laugh. “No. Why would it?”
“Some women don’t like it because they think it means I’m not that into women. Some guys don’t like it because they think I’m not committed to being gay. And some guys get jealous.”
I blink. “Wow. No. I don’t need a commitment to being gay. That’s not the commitment that matters to me. But to answer your question, if I had an issue with your orientation, I wouldn’t have done anything with you in the first place.”
His brow creases. “You weren’t asking because you’re jealous I might be attracted to a woman? Like Becca?”
“No. I’m not jealous over women versus men. I’m jealous by nature. The gender doesn’t factor into it.”
His lips curve into a naughty grin. “You’re possessive.”
“Yes,” I say, completely serious.
“Do you feel possessive of me?”
I set my fork down, giving him a stare. “Is that a real question?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Is it?” There’s a thoroughly Stone-esque delight in his voice. This guy loves compliments, but he deserves them too.
“Yes. I feel possessive of you. Yes, I feel jealous when I think you might be attracted to someone else. But whether the attraction is for a man or woman doesn’t matter. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” Stone slices the papaya and pops it into his mouth, grinning.
I take another bite of eggs, savoring the taste. “So, type. Got one?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have a type when it comes to men.
Or women. I’m attracted to different people.
Black, white, Asian, Latino or Latina. Sometimes I like curves on a woman, sometimes toned arms. Sometimes long legs.
On a guy, sometimes I like them bigger than me, sometimes leaner.
” He draws a deep breath, studying my face with a newfound intensity.
“But I suppose if I have a thing, it’s for eyes. ”
“You’re attracted to eyes?”
“Yeah. Eyes just do me in,” he says, his tone swoony. “That’s my thing. Great eyes. Soulful eyes. Eyes you want to get to know. Eyes that have seen things. Eyes that know things.” His hook into mine, and my stupid heart pounds so loud I bet he can hear it. “Like yours.”
Backflips, cartwheels, triple jumps—you name it. It’s happening inside me.
Settle down, heart. Settle the hell down.
Stone picks up his cup and takes a swallow of tea. “What about you? Got a type?”
“Definitely,” I admit, grateful to return to the broader topic.
He wiggles his fingers. “Give me the deets.”
“Some chest hair and roughness and . . .” I sigh contentedly because this next one is my Achilles’ heel.
“Stubble.” I hum low in my throat, getting lost in my happy place.
“Love stubble. That is my favorite thing. I love what you have going on here,” I say, gesturing to his jaw, stretching my hand across the table to stroke his face.
He murmurs as I touch him. “I like that too. But I also find women beautiful. Just intrinsically. The female form.” He arches a questioning brow as I let go of him. “You really don’t care? You sure?”
“Others have cared? That’s why you’re asking?”
“Yes. Others have.” His eyes are etched with vulnerability, with a worry that his orientation could be an issue for me.
I take another bite of my food, then set the fork down. I level with him. “I like you just the way you are, Stone,” I say, and the man’s grin lights up the city.
It could power the entire Strip.
Maybe the whole damn state.
“You do?”
“I do.” I mean it, and I want him to know how deeply.
I don’t want to change him. The man is who he is.
“If we were a thing, I wouldn’t have an issue with your identity.
What difference does it make if you’re gay and only attracted to men?
What difference does it make if you’re bi and attracted to men and women?
There’s zero difference. I’m not going to be more jealous because you might be attracted to one hundred percent of people versus fifty percent of people.
It’s my job to satisfy you in and out of the bedroom, and it’s your job to be faithful. ”
He sits up straight. “I would. That’s not an issue.”
I reach for his hand, reassuring him. “I know. I wasn’t saying it is.
I’m simply saying that’s all that matters.
I wouldn’t worry about the fact that part of your identity is being attracted to women as well as men.
That doesn’t bother me. I mean, I’m not into women.
I’m not going to have a threesome with you.
I’m not going to share you with anyone—man or woman.
But that’s me. That’s how I’m wired. I don’t share.
But, if you were mine, I’d damn well make it my job and my pleasure to make sure you were happy with me and me alone. ”
I swallow a little roughly, wondering why I just put that out there like that. But it’s hypothetical. Totally hypothetical.
Stone sets down his fork, his gaze meeting mine, a sharp breath slipping from his lips.
“If we were a thing, I wouldn’t want you to worry about me straying or wanting anyone else.
That’s why I asked if it bothered you. I like to look, but I’d never touch.
Ever. When I’m with you, J, I’m more than satisfied,” he says, squeezing my hand, his eyes locking with mine and shimmering with something besides desire.
Something deeper.
Something more powerful.
Something that feels like all I could need.
That’s the scary thing. So much of what he’s giving me feels like all I need.
I’ve got to zero in on the moment. The food. That’s it. I point at the plate. “Let’s eat before it gets cold. You’ve got a packed day.”
He wiggles his brow. “And a packed night?”
“Maybe. If you play your cards right.”
“I always play them right. And then tomorrow you’re going to the game with me?”
“Hawks versus Renegades?”
“Hello? Sunday? Private suite. Don’t tell me you forgot?”
A grin tugs at my lips. Nothing better than football in a private suite. “I did forget.”
“Terrence went the other week. It’s your turn. Come with me. You like football, don’t you?”
“Love it.”
“Good, because Zane and my grandma are going too, and so is Nadia.”
I’m going to meet his grandmother tomorrow. I try to hide a grin at how happy that makes me. So happy that I need some time away from him today so I don’t let on how much I like it.
I leave the room a little later and say goodbye to Terrence. I tell him what I’ve been doing—not the specifics, of course, but the general gist, because I respect the guy too much to keep it secret.
“Can I just say not surprised ? Not surprised at all.”
“You and Cruz have been reading from the same script,” I say with a shake of my head.
Terrence gives me a sly grin. “Or maybe you’re transparent.”
What can I say to that? “Seems I am.”
Terrence gives me a reassuring nod. “I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, man.”
When I reach my room, I call my sister on FaceTime. As soon as she answers, I pick up where I left off the last time we talked.
Biting off the truth.
“I’m seeing Stone. It’s secret and all. It’s not going to last beyond a week. I don’t know what to say, except it feels like the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
That admission scares the hell out of me.
“Oh, Jackson.” Her face goes sweet and melty.
I sink onto the bed, dragging a hand over my neck, a knot of tension cropping back up. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Just let yourself enjoy something for once. You deserve all the good things.”
I shake my head, my throat tightening. “It can’t end well.”
“You don’t know that.” She flashes me a supportive grin, but it’s the kind that says I’m hosed.
“I do. And you know it too.”
“But why not? Why can’t it?” Hope springs eternal in youth.