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“I don’t know, but I don’t need to rush anything. He’s it for me.”
If I could see her face right now, I know there would be a wide smile stretched across it. She gets like that every time she talks about Donovan. I’m so unbelievably happy for my sister from another mister, italmostwipes away my irritation from talking about Jackson… or tryingnotto talk about Jackson.
It’s ridiculous that I’m afraid to confide in my two best friends about the shit storm of emotions floating through my mind every time the subject of Jackson and me comes up. I wouldn’t mind talking to them about my feelings or anything else having to do with us, but the idea of what will happen when we don’t work out… Jackson is family, and I’m not. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how that would go down. I know they would mean well, but eventually, I would be shut out of their lives since Jackson is Donovan’s brother. That’s what happened between my sister and me, and we were blood. I broke up with her boyfriend’s brother and refused to give him a second chance, which was enough for her to decide our relationship wasn’t worth it. I would be devastated if that happened with Kasey and Lindsey.
These thoughts are not helping me relax as my strong-handed male masseuse tries to work out the kinks in my neck. When he touches a particularly tender spot, I let out a loud groan. The sound of a cabinet door slamming comes from the kitchen, and I look up, catching Jackson glaring darts between me and my masseuse, Christopher. The man doesn’t look happy. I cock a brow and lift the side of my lips up in a small smile before putting my head back down on the massage table. What Jackson doesn’t know is the woman doing Kasey’s massage is Christopher’s fiancé. Let him sweat for a second.
I already know he doesn’t like seeing other men’s hands on me from his reaction when I was dancing with the couple at his club. Personally, I like that he’s a little jealous. My ex never gave two shits if another guy flirted with me. He was too busy getting a blow job from whatever sorority sister showed him the time of day.
A notification chimes from my phone with an incoming text. I look up again to see Jackson’s eyes dart to my phone, then back at me.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Your mom.”
I’m not dealing with her right now. Rolling my eyes, I lay my head down again, frustrated with the turn this supposedly relaxing massage has taken. Why can’t I just have an hour to decompress and have the tension rubbed out of my body? I don’t want to think about relationships, my mother, or that I haven’t RSVP’d to my sister’s wedding because I don’t want to deal with my family’s matchmaking schemes to get me back together with my ex. And I certainly don’t want to have to think about where this thing between Jackson and I could go, if anywhere. The only thing I need right now are these considerable knots rubbed out, a shower, and later, a copious amount of wine.
Since no one has the energy to cook tonight, we order pizza from a local pizzeria. Sometimes, carb loading with a delicious glass of wine is about as close to heaven as one can get.
Of course, Lindsey eats half a pie herself. I swear I don’t know where that girl puts it all. Aiden watches her proudly as she inhales another large, meaty slice. Is it weird that he’s so impressed by her eating skills? Whatever works for them, I guess.
We decide to take advantage of the home theater and have a relaxing night vegging out and watching a movie in the basement rec room. Witnessing the Albright sisters debate over which cheesy action movie to watch is hilarious. Growing up, this never happened in my house. Besides, my sister only likes anything with a sappy romantic ending. Personally, I like the shoot ‘em up scenes. Watching people getting blown up is therapeutic. Don’t judge. They finally settle on an old eighties action movie.
Donovan and Kasey are on one reclining loveseat, and Lindsey and Aiden are on the other. Naturally, that sticks me with Jackson on the remaining loveseat. The guys had gone to the store this afternoon while Kasey, Lindsey, and I were taking a nap after our massages. I didn’t sleep well last night—Jackson and me together doesn’t lend itself to a good night’s sleep. Not that I’m complaining. The nap was heavenly, and my brain finally turned off for a while. After a shower and pizza, we’re all settled in the loveseats, watching the movie and gorging ourselves on the popcorn and candy the guys brought home.
Midway through the scene, when the villain declares his intentions for world domination, I feel something rubbing the side of my thigh and glance down. Jackson’s pinky is moving in slow circles over my yoga pants. I shoot him a tightlipped glare and shake my head, mouthing, “Knock it off.”
He looks back with innocent eyes, shrugs his shoulders, and mouths, “What?”
My eyes pointedly dart to the heads of the two couples sitting in front of us, then back to him. His hand retreats, but an irreverent smirk dances on his lips as he watches the movie and shovels popcorn into his mouth. Not even thirty minutes later, he pulls the good old yawn move, stretching his arm behind the back of my seat. Who does this guy think he’s fooling?
I glance back in his direction, and he’s watching the movie as though he isn’t trying to pull a fast one on me. When I feel his fingers trail through my hair, I smack his hand away, glaring daggers in his direction again.
“Stop it,” I hiss at him quietly.
Jackson turns and shushes me. Me! This guy is trying to get frisky where any of our friends could turn around and see, but somehow, I’m the one with the issue. Absolutely ridiculous.
Maneuvering my body as far away from him as I can, I put my back against the armrest. Jackson takes it as his opportunity to grab me by the calves and throw my legs over his lap. This guy just won’t quit. For the sake of not drawing attention to ourselves, I keep my legs in his lap and throw a blanket over us, so if anyone turns around, they won’t be able to tell where my legs are.
Absentmindedly, he begins rubbing the arches of my feet. God, that feels good. Even though I had a massage a few hours ago, there’s nothing better than having someone dig there. A deep ache flares to life low in my belly, and I rub my thighs together to alleviate the pressure building between my legs. I spot a small smirk on Jackson’s lips, his only acknowledgment that he knows what his touch is doing to me. Damn him.
When the movie ends, I realize I spaced out for the last half of it. Jackson’s strong fingers had created a riot of emotions throughout my body. I spent most of the movie hoping he wouldn’t move his hand farther up but at the same time, wishing he would. His touch never strayed past my knee, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly disappointed.
Our friends catching us wasn’t something I was prepared to deal with, but I was willing to risk it at that moment. My mind kept going back and forth with the idea that we’re all adults, and if they knew Jackson and I were seeing each other, so what? Too bad that nasty voice of self-doubt crept in, telling me if anything went wrong, I’d be out, and Jackson would stay in.
As the credits roll, I remove my legs from Jackson’s lap and curl them to the side as if I’d been laying like this the whole time. When Donovan turns the lights on, washing the theater in a warm glow, Kasey turns to face me, concern etched across her brow.
“Are you feeling okay, Abs? Your cheeks look a little rosy.”
“I’m fine, just a little hot.” Hot and bothered is more like it. I throw the blanket off and fan myself.
“Maybe you should head upstairs and get some rest. I hate to think you’re coming down with something,” Jackson tells me.
“That’s a great idea. We should all get some sleep.” Aiden stands and grabs Lindsey’s hand, hauling her off the loveseat. “Come on, Sunshine.”
Lindsey yawns and allows him to drag her up the stairs as Donovan and Kasey follow.
“It’s just us now, Red,” Jackson whispers, leaning into me.
