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“Which is why I’m going for discrete. Things like this get found out and it never ends well. I just want to do my job without gossip or misery, so I can save and go to grad school in a couple months.”
“I get it. Keeping your man on a secretive basis can be hot.” Harper winked.
There were lots of things about Jack that weren’t for public knowledge. Like his “brand of fucking,” as he once put it. But last night didn’t feel like that term matched it. It was more intense than I’d expected, but in a very good way. Yet, when I’d skyrocketed from turned on to nuclear meltdown, I had all but thrown a fit trying to get to him. Which meant I had acted without consideration of his needs. Including the need to control the situation. And I had a feeling I’d just chipped the iceberg last night.
Yes, it was clear he liked control. What that entailed, I was still learning. But when I fought him, begged for more, and interrupted his pace, he seemed both upset and turned on by it.
Logic would dictate not to push him like that again. Not because I was afraid he’d hurt me, but because pushing a man like Jack could lead to withdrawal. He could easily have countless other women filling his bed, doing his exact bidding at any moment. He didn’t need me.
Yet, he chose me.
The flare in my gut made me wonder how far I’d overstepped last night, because while he might not need me, I was starting to need him. His power, warmth and strength brought ou
t the fighter and the lover in me. This time, I was fighting for him, for myself, and for the passion I hadn’t realized existed in me.
“Just promise me that this guy is a good thing. That you’ll be careful.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me,” I defended.
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying to take it slow.” It was the same thing she’d said last weekend.
“I know it looks like things are progressing quickly. But for the first time, I feel healthier. Like I’m finally having experiences a normal woman would have. I’m finally moving on from the past.”
The weight I’d been carrying around was getting lighter. Jack was showing me that sex didn’t have to be dirty or scary. It could connect you to something beyond yourself.
Harper nodded. “And I think that’s great, but there’s another big thing you need to keep ahold of.”
“What?”
“Your heart.” She looked at me for a long moment, a kind of sadness in her eyes. “Everything can go great, he can be great, but remember that in the end, people can always betray you. They can leave. They can lie. They can set you up. They can do nothing wrong at all, and for whatever reason, things just don’t work out. Don’t go into your first relationship blind to this.”
Okay, that sounded scary. One sexual experience, and I was naïve to the all the other stuff that came with a relationship. Like it ending at some point. But I couldn’t tell her about that. Or that my relationship was more of an arrangement that was being taken “one day at a time.” But there was mutual want and desire, right? That counted for something. Surely, I wasn’t the only one feeling a connection. At least, I hoped not.
“Is everything okay with you?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She waved her hand like nothing was ever a big deal. “Just working a lot.”
I went to ask her about the rumored firefighters that had a crush on her, but she motioned for the waiter and the check. “Sorry I had to make this a quick lunch, but I have a meeting soon.”
“Okay, sure, no problem.”
She put money down on the table, got up, and hugged me. “You finish your lunch and I’ll see you at home tonight.”
“Okay.”
She hustled her designer heels out the door and into the Colorado summer afternoon.
I took another breath, as every memory from last night replayed in my mind once more. It would be smart to keep some kind of emotional distance. Especially since I had no idea of the final outcome, or much less the equation that made up Jack Powell.
Chapter Eleven
As I walked back to the office, I thought a lot about what Harper said. I thought even more about what Jack had done.
Everything about last night seemed to stretch this emptiness in my chest and warm it. Being careful, especially with emotions, was smart. But he was different, had been from the moment I met him. He’d been hard and rough, but slow and deep. Then he sent me flowers. A sweet gesture. One a man does for a woman he’s interested in. A gesture that garnered a response.
I dug through my purse and pulled out my cell phone and the business card Jack had given me a few days ago, hoping he’d be at this number, and not at his house number. I may not be practiced in the correct relationship decorum, partly because this wasn’t a standard relationship, and also because I was the one insisting on keeping it secret from most everyone but Harper.
I stood against the side of the building before my office around the corner and dialed Jack’s office.
