36. Jackson
JACKSON
Stone is mobbed when he heads into the wings.
Candi. His manager. His brother. Sage. Ivy. Stagehands. Roadies.
Or, I should say, we are. Everyone wants to touch him, talk to him, congratulate him—and me too.
Guess that’s what happens when one of the world’s most famous rock stars kisses you at his concert in front of all his fans.
Stone gives his guitar to Zane then lifts his palm. “Give me a minute, peeps.”
He pulls me into his dressing room, slams the door, locks it, and lets out a long exhale. A vein in his neck pulses from the exertion of performing. His shoulders rise and fall from what’s pretty much a workout onstage. He stares at me, smiling stupidly.
Pretty sure my smile is of the stupid-in-love variety too.
“Holy shit. Did that just happen?” He shoves a hand through his hair.
I grab the neck of his T-shirt. “Are you backing out?”
Stone shakes his head. “No way. You’re stuck with me. I’m just feeling like this is a dream.”
“Does this feel like a dream?” I slide my hands down his sweaty shirt then under it, trailing over his abs, his pecs. He shivers as I touch him.
“I’m not going to lie. That is kind of all my dreams,” he says. He clasps my face. Looks in my eyes. Grins. “Jackson Pearce, I love you something fierce.”
I laugh. “Are you trying to rhyme?”
“Yeah. Or write another song. But I do. I love you something fierce.”
My heart thunders. It gallops away, and I let it because it belongs to him. “I am so in love with you,” I tell Stone. And nothing has ever sounded better to say, nothing in the whole world.
He quirks a brow, grabbing my waist. “But what the hell? What are you going to do? You quit?”
I shrug, maybe a little impishly. “I’ve got a plan. A brilliant one.”
“Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you later. I think you should do your VIP thing, and do it fast because . . .” I brush my cheek to his, my stubble rubbing against his skin. “If memory serves, I’m pretty sure we had a deal about the next time we fucked.”
He groans low in his throat, his eyes darkening. “Now I’m going to be sporting a flagpole the whole time I do the VIP event.”
I slide a hand over his erection, squeeze him, and drop my lips to his.
I kiss him hard at first, deep and possessive. My head goes hazy; my body heats. The kiss is both familiar and wonderfully new. It’s long and slow, and it tastes like forever.
As we kiss, his words from the stage float through my mind and all I can think and feel is love.
Deep, passionate love.
Then the kiss shifts to teasing and sensual as I nip on his bottom lip, tracing his lips with my tongue.
This, too, feels like a promise of our future. A long and amazing future. “We were never going to be one time only,” I say when I break the kiss.
Stone gives me a lopsided grin. “I know.”
I run a hand over his cheek, stroking that stubble that drives me crazy. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been falling for you. And ever since we first kissed, I was done for.”
Stone presses his forehead to mine, curling his hands on my shoulders. “You changed me. You changed everything. I can’t believe I’m thirty-four and never knew what it was like to be in love.”
“Get used to it, babe. I’m going to show you every single day what it’s like,” I say, joy filling every cell.
“Who would have thought? My bodyguard is such a romantic.”
I shrug, an admission. “Can you blame me? That I want to show you love every day?”
He shakes his head. “It’s the only thing I want now.”
“Good. Because you’re going to get it.” Then I smack his ass, narrow my eyes, and growl—go all bossy, since he likes that. “Now go. I need some good hard fucking from a rock star when you’re done.”
He grips my hip. “Did you ever hear the story about the rock star who fell for his bodyguard?”
I smile. “I hear it has a very happy ending.”
We walk through the casino together. I’m still on duty, so I don’t stray from the job.
I scan left and right, looking around, on alert. My hand is on his arm, but I don’t worry if it’s professional or not.
It is what it is—my hand on my guy’s arm.
Somewhere near an Avengers slot machine, Stone leans over, giving me a peck on the cheek.
“You sneak,” I say.
He shrugs. “No guilt. I feel no guilt.”
We reach the elevator and punch in the key code.
A voice calls out. “Jackstone!”
I wheel around. Two twentysomething women flap their arms in the air as they dash toward us.
They’re a couple, both sporting sashes that read “The Bride.” One points to the other and vice versa, and the taller of the two says, “We got married today. Before your show. We love you so much.”
Stone holds his arms out wide. “Bring it in. Want a picture?”
Both of them squeal. I step aside, but they shake their heads. The taller one points to me. “You better get in the picture. We want a photo with Jackstone.”
“Jackstone,” Stone whispers. “The internet likes us.”
“So do I.”
We gather in, and one of the brides snaps a selfie.
When they leave, we step into the elevator. As the door closes, I reach for his hand.
Let the world see.
In the lift, we’re surrounded by half a dozen people. A young family, an older couple. Some look at us; some don’t. But I don’t let go of his hand.
We are together.
When we reach his floor, we leave the elevator hand in hand, and this, right now, feels like everything I’ve ever wanted with him.
When the forbidden becomes free.
When you move a love affair from after dark into the light.
When you take it out of hotel rooms and declare yourself to each other in front of everyone. When you say that this love matters more than anything else and you make it happen.
But right now, I’d like to be in a hotel room with my man. And that’s where we go.