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He takes it from my hands with a smirk, glancing down at his crotch. “I’m glad you noticed. It is huge, Red.”
That earns him an eye roll before I shove him toward the living room. “Go sit down and stop pretending you have anything I want any part of. I’ll get the wine.”
His selection is amazing. Growing up, I learned all about “good” wine. Not that swill the cheerleaders would drink during field parties after a game. A proper Southern lady needs to know these things for dinner parties and such, after all. Jackson has exquisite taste and even though I can hardly stand the man most days, I have no problem appreciating his knowledge of a good vintage. Looking through his collection, I find the most expensive label, grab the bottle of red and pour us a couple glasses before making my way to the couch.
“Here you go, Prince.” I hand him his glass.
“I appreciate you realizing you’re in the presence of royalty, but there’s no need to be formal.” He gives me a shit-eating grin.
I sit down a good four feet from him. “Don’t get it twisted, my dear. It’s short for Prince of Darkness.” I sip my wine and lean back on a not-so-comfortable cushion, enjoying the dark rich notes of plum and chocolate on my tongue. As I said, Jackson has excellent taste in wine but apparently not furniture.
Jackson laughs before taking a deep gulp of his wine and leaning back, closing his eyes. Seeing him so relaxed and comfortable on his very rock-hard couch has me questioning why we hate each other so much. His wavy dark-blond hair and rich-blue eyes, matched with his tan skin and high cheekbones, are a recipe for many a fantasy for any red-blooded woman. His quick wit and irreverent attitude make the whole “bad boy” thing a tempting package indeed.
“I wish I could figure out where I went wrong with you, Abigail.” He opens his eyes and rolls his head to the side, giving me that playboy smile he’s perfected over the years. I remember the first time I was enraptured with that smile and also why he pisses me off so much. Seriously, he doesn’t remember what happened?
“Well, Jackson, let’s take a little walk down memory lane, shall we? The first time I met you, I was covering a charity event thrown by your mother. You smiled at me from across the room and, to my surprise, made your way over to me. You liked my fiery-red hair, and I liked your bespoke suit. I couldn’t believetheJackson Hayes was talking to me. You wanted to know if I was busy later and, of course, I wasn’t going to just fly into your arms, so I said I was. But then you wanted to know if you could take me out the next day or any day. You justhadto see me again. My hair reminded you of a beach bonfire and my green eyes were the color of spring. You couldn’t possibly go your entire life without knowing the secrets behind them.“ I roll my eyes at the cheesy lines. And the fact that I liked them.
“Obviously, I knew you were full of shit, but I was still charmed by your terrible lines and adorable smile. Then, not thirty minutes later when I was wrapping up and needed my coat, I tried to find the attendant. Lo and behold, guess what I found instead?”
I’m seething and he looks ashamed. That’s new. Shame isn’t an emotion I would ever associate with him.
“You, with your tongue down the girl’s throat, only coming up for air to tell her that you needed to know the secrets behind her eyes.” I give him a pointed look and see a pained expression cross his face. Good, I hope it is painful for him to be reminded that he’s a complete cad and total phony.
“Abigail, I really am sorry about that. That was a total douche move.”
I scoff.
“Really, I am. There’s no excuse for that behavior. I know I haven’t always shown you the best side—“
I get up from the couch, too angry to stay still. “No, you haven’t. What you did show me were your true colors. I didn’t expect you to fall madly in love with me from one little conversation, but I certainly didn’t expect you to be playing tonsil hockey with another girl only half an hour after asking me out.” My voice is shrill even to my own ears. God, I sound like a jealous girlfriend. Ugh, I hate it.
“You know what,” I begin. “I don’t need or want your apologies at this point. It’s fine. I don’t need this.” I turn to grab my purse from the kitchen where I left it when I went searching for ice for his stupid damn face. Jackson gets up from the couch and stops me before I make it to the door, grabbing my hand and spinning me around, bringing us mere inches from one another.
“I’m sorry. Really. Please don’t hold this against me for the rest of our lives.” He looks back and forth like he’s debating something important. “Fuck it,” he breathes out.
Before I know it, his lips are covering mine in a desperate kiss. I open my mouth to protest, but that just gives him an opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. He brings his hand to the side of my face, holding me in place. I’m swept away in the moment and drop my purse before grabbing his shirt and yanking him closer. We kiss like we fight, holding nothing back. His arm bands around my waist and pulls me closer to his erection. He certainly wasn’t lying about having a huge head.
He breaks the kiss and we’re both panting hard as he leans his forehead against mine.
“Please,” he whispers. “It was a dumb move, and I hate myself for it. I honestly don’t even remember the other girl.”
His words are a bucket of cold water thrown over our very hot moment. I remember those words being said to me by another rich playboy who I thought actually wanted a future with me. I was wrong then, and I’m sure as shit wrong now.
I push Jackson away from me and stare him dead in the eye. “Keep your hands off me unless you want another black eye, Jackson Hayes. This will never happen.”
I grab my purse and storm toward the door. Thinking better of it, I turn and grab the expensive bottle of wine still sitting on the kitchen counter. I strut to the door with my head held high, looking back for a moment, seeing confusion in his eyes as he runs a hand over that fucking handsome face of his.
I walk toward the elevator like a queen with her prize wine, hoping with everything in me that he doesn’t follow. I am so over this shit tonight.
“Come on, stupid elevator,” I mumble as I hit the call button about a dozen times.
Finally, it opens, and I step in, hitting the close door button over and over. Just as the elevator door begins to slide shut, I see Jackson’s open, and he steps out.Oh hell no.I hold up the bottle of wine and a choice finger in his direction.Thankfully, he doesn’t make it in time before they firmly close, cutting off my view of his flustered expression.
I make it to my car without him catching me and hightail it back to my apartment. Once I’m safely parked, I bang my head on the steering wheel. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Straightening my tense shoulders, I close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my mouth and out through my nose, trying to calm my galloping heart. He kissed me. And I let him. And for the love of God, why did it have to feel so damn good?
Shit. At least I grabbed that bottle of wine.
Chapter 2
