Chapter 20
Francesca
I walk into my kitchen and lean against the island. What the hell happened tonight? How did Nick know we were there? Why did he show? Why did Jackson react the way he did? What does he mean he wants more? Could we really be more?
I take a deep breath and drop my head, rolling it around, my neck still tense. I don’t even know where to start thinking about how to handle this. As far as PR goes, this is a nightmare. I saw people with their phones out. This is going to be an enormous setback.
As far as a personal relationship, I don’t know where I stand.
I don’t understand Jackson at all. The emotion of the night was heavy and still weighs on me.
What more does he want? This is out of character for him.
His words replay in my head. “Maybe I want more! There’s more here, Francesca! Right here!”
I need to go to bed. Calm my mind for the night and re-think everything in the morning. Everything looks different in the daylight.
I turn to head to bed and—“Oh!” I gasp as I see Jackson's face in the window of my back door.
I walk over tentatively and let him in, and he rushes me to the island.
His hands on my waist, he holds me still, breathing like he just ran a marathon.
My heart is beating fast from the sudden fright he gave me, but also because of the intensity in his eyes. Then he speaks.
“I’m sorry I missed you, Chess. All those years, I’m so sorry.” His eyes are burning through me with such intensity it makes me want to weep.
“You didn’t miss me; you just didn’t see me.”
“I saw you; but I believed I wasn’t allowed to look.”
He leans in and kisses me. “But I’m looking now.” His kiss is quick, a chaste kiss which catches me by surprise. I’m frozen. I can’t even kiss him back. “Let me in,” he says. He angles his head towards me, waiting for me to come to him.
I narrow my eyes. I’m not giving into him. If this is a game, I’m making him work for it. “Take it,” I snap back.
“Give it,” he says, and I raise an eyebrow at his tone. He’s clearly trying to get me to submit to him. “I’m going to enjoy that smart ass mouth of yours.”
Growing bolder at this little game we’re playing, I say, “You can try.”
“Why do you always battle me?” He nips at my ear, then licks the pulse point on my neck.
I shiver against him, his touch lighting me up.
“Because you, Mr. Superstar, shouldn’t get everything handed to you.
You need to learn not every woman is going to fall at your feet.
I’m going to make you work for it. You want this?
You want me?” He nods enthusiastically, making me giggle at his actions.
“Well, then you’ve got to keep your hot shot dominance between you and me.
Be filthy in private, remember? Isn’t that what you said? ”
“Yes, that’s what I said! And I’ve already been working hard for it, Francesca! Fuck! If you really want this— me—you’ll be the only one who will get that side of me. I promise.”
I raise a brow. “How do you know you can give me that in private? And only me. There will be no others, Gage. Whether what was reported is real or not, I know it’d be easy for you to go out and find someone. I’ve seen the way these women throw themselves at you.”
“Have you seen me with a woman since you’ve been back?” I shake my head as he continues, “then you just have to trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“Yup, trust me to romance you sweetly in public, and hard in private.” His eyes flash and the dam breaks.
The give and take we’ve been doing is no longer.
He consumes me, my lips, my mouth, my body.
It becomes urgent, like we may never get this chance again.
He pulls me close, and I feel just how much he wants me.
“Jackson...”
“Don’t talk. Just feel, Chessy. Just let me feel you.
” He invades my mouth again, sweetly, sweeping inside with his tongue, then pulling back, nipping my bottom lip.
His hands linger on my waist, one sliding up my front, in between my breasts, not touching—even though I am desperate for him to pull my dress down and touch me.
He slides his hand around my neck, palming my throat, squeezing gently. And oh my god, I’ve never felt hotter.
“Jackson,” I rake out again. Tilting my neck to him, begging for more, he slides his thigh between mine, just like the night we were at the bar, and I push down on him.
“I can feel how hot you are. How wet you are. Ride me. Take what you need.”
I rub myself on him, desperately. I’ve never felt this out of control before. I moan and he runs his hands across my arms, which are linked behind his neck.
I kiss him again, this time I pull on his bottom lip gently. He growls and I smile against his lips. I pull away and rest my forehead on his. I don’t want to think, but my thoughts consume me. I’m kissing Jackson. He’s here, in my kitchen, touching me. I want it.
“Are we really doing this?” I ask.
“Fuck yea we are!” I laugh as he nuzzles my neck again.
“Jackson! You know what I mean!” I laugh as his stubble scratches my chin.
I want him to say it. I need him to explain what we’re doing here and where this is going.
I feel like a needy girl wanting answers, but we mean too much to each other not to ask these questions.
I’m nowhere close to figuring out what all this could mean, and by this, I really mean the complication of letting my brother’s best friend screw me in my kitchen.
He brings his hands to my face, holding me reverently.
“I’ve wanted nothing more than to do this for years, Francesca.
But I couldn’t. I…” he sighs and drops his head.
I wait. “It’s not just about sex. I didn’t want to hurt you, or Adam, or your family.
They were so good to me, are so good to me.
But I know they were disappointed. I couldn’t sully you since I was already dirty. ”
“Jackson. No. They don’t think that way of you.” I lift his head back up so I can look at him. “They don’t. They love you. I’m sure my dad would be happy about this.”
“I don’t think your dad would be happy with what I want to do to you right now, baby girl.”
Hearing him call me baby girl makes my heart flutter. It’s such a sweet intimate name, but then I laugh. “I don’t mean that, you fool. I mean us.”
He eyes me. “And Adam? He’s warned me from you, Chessy. For years. And I followed bro code because I couldn’t risk losing him and losing you if things didn’t work out.”
“We’re adults. What we do is our business. No one else’s. And since they’re already acting like we’re together, we can be together. Like a secret only we have. For now,” I swallow. That sounds so wrong. Like he’s a dirty secret. What am I doing? I’m sabotaging myself.
“So, we’re fake dating, but for real?” he asks.
I sing, “Secret lovers, that’s what we are.”
He laughs and pulls me close, then scoops me up. I wrap my arms around his neck. “I want you, Jackson. I always have. And however that has to look, for however long, I’ll take it.”
A weird look passes through his eyes. Sadness maybe? Guilt? But I don’t linger on that and instead run my hand down his pecs. His eyes shine bright again, and he saunters down the hallway and finds my bedroom, holding my hand the whole way.
He leads me to the middle of the room, and I stand in front of him, the moonlight the only light flowing in through the window.
He runs his hand over my stomach and walks behind me.
Undoing my zipper, he pulls my dress until it falls to the floor.
I’m left standing in a lacy, black, strapless bra and matching panties.
“Fucking beautiful,” he leans and kisses my shoulder, still circling me, making me feel like the prey he is hunting.
He shrugs off his tux jacket and I reach for the buttons on his shirt, undoing each one.
He takes my hands and puts them back at my side as he untucks the shirt from his pants, slides his arms out and tosses it to the floor.
His body is magnificent—I knew it would be. He’s always kept himself in shape. Broad chest, strong sturdy shoulders and arms to die for. He undoes his belt and unzips his pants, stepping out of them, having kicked off his shoes already at some point, never losing eye contact with me.