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“Jack-”Icry out asIcome unhinged.
ButbeforeIcan finish the word, wet fingers press into my mouth, keeping me quiet.Jackson’sfingers.Coveredin…me.I’venever tasted myself like this before.It’sdifferent and weird.Itaste like vanilla and musk.Jackson’sthick fingers slide in and out of my mouth like he’s fucking it, and they’re so big and thick.IdecideIlike this after all.Tastingmy pleasure on the fingers of the man who gave it to me is hot as fuck.
Jacksongrunts as he jerks against my body until he finally stills.
Hetakes his fingers out of my mouth and sucks them into his.Thenhe kisses my shoulder before pulling back, pulling out of me.Ifeel empty and cold without his warm strength behind me.IhearJackson’sfeet on the floor, the door opens and closes again, and then his weight sinks back into the bed.Onceagain, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against him.Hishand finds my breast, and he gently plays with my nipple as he falls asleep.
chapterfifty-two
selena
WhenIwake up the next morning,I’minJackson’sbed, inJackson’sbedroom.Alone.
Iguess that’s my answer.Lastnight was some sort of freak weather event that only happens once every hundred years.Notto be repeated in a single lifetime, and definitely not in mine.Apang shoots through me at the thought of never being withJacksonagain like we were last night.I’venever been that free with anyone else, andI’venever felt that way with anyone else, either.Fourorgasms are not just unheard of for me, they’re downright inexplicable.
HowamInever going to have that again?
Noidea, but it’s not like it’s up to me.I’llhave a good story to tell my granddaughters one day or to include in my scandalous autobiography.Although, one steamy night with a movie star does not a bestselling autobiography make.Therest of it would just be baking and brunch.
Now,Ineed to figure out howI’mgoing to survive the next three weeks withJacksonuntil the contract is up.Spendingevery day withJacksonand not obsessing about what we did last night is going to take more strength and focus thanIcan muster.AndIneed to not be completely awkward around him.I’msureJacksonhas nights like that all the time.Whatwas an epic, once in a lifetime night for me was probably just an ordinaryTuesdayafternoon for him.
Ihave to play this cool.NotthatI’veever actually played anything cool in my entire life.Ever.Butif there was a time to start, that time is now.Ihave to be cool, calm, and collected.Easygoing.Chill.Foranother three weeks.AndthenInever have to seeJacksonagain.
Thethought of never seeingJacksonagain sends another sharp pang of pain through me, even worse than thinking about never having another night like last night.Theman must leave a string of broken women in his wake, andI’monly the latest.Andnot even one he was trying to make feel something.I’mjust the one he got stuck with.
Thesmell of waffles—wait, no, pancakes—hits me as soon asIopen the door toJackson’sbedroom.Atleast there will be delicious food to distract me during the most awkward breakfast of my entire life.Finishingup in the bathroom and throwing on a white tank top and floral skirt,Ihead downstairs to get the awkward over with.
“Morning,”Iwhisper asIpad into the kitchen on bare feet.
Jacksonturns around from where he’s standing at the stove with a spatula in hand, minding a griddle covered with silver dollar sized pancakes. “Morning.”
Hehas a tea towel draped over the shoulder of his white t-shirt and his faded jeans hit the tops of his bare feet.
Thesilence in the kitchen is drowned out by a beating heart of awkwardness pounding between us.
“Sleepwell?”Thewords are out of my mind beforeIcan stop them.
Jacksonturns around and quirks an eyebrow at me over his shoulder.Thenhe turns back to his pancakes.Heflips them with more flair than technique, almost but not quite, losing a few.
“Where’syour dad?”Itry again to make normal conversation on a morning that is anything but normal.
“Hewas up and had an early breakfast beforeIgot up.Jarretcame over to take him on a drive around the farm.He’sbeen making us all crazy about letting him get back to work.Jarretfinally caved and is at least going to let him see what’s going on.He’llbe back in a bit for physiotherapy, so you can get your stretching in.Youprobably need it after last night.”Jacksonchuckles to himself.
“Thatsounds really positive.He’sdoing so much better!”Ignoringhis comment about stretching,Itry to put all my nervous energy into relief and happiness thatJackson’sdad is home and doing so well.
“Positiveisn’t exactly howIwould describe the mood he’s in at the moment.Butyeah, it’s pretty good.”Jacksonturns to look at me. “So,Iwas thinking-”
He’scut off when his phone, iPad, and the old-fashioned ring of the old-school house line in the corner all start going off at once.
Hewas thinking, what?Whatspecifically was he thinking?Ineed to know exactly what he was thinking before he answers a single one of those calls.
“Holdthat thought,”Jacksonmutters as he walks over to the far counter and picks up his phone.
“Jackson.”
Hiseyebrows narrow.Thenpull apart.Thendraw back together.Watchingthe expressive brows of a professional actor is pure torture.Jacksonmumblesokayandhuhandyeahover the course of a few minutes, telling me exactly nothing about what is happening on the other end of the call.
“Okay, call me later.”Jacksonputs his phone back down on the counter. “Sorryabout that.”
