Little by little, I returned to reality. Eventually, he stopped attacking me with his hungry kisses and simply held me tight. Everything that had come before now had been mind-blowingly amazing. But this, feeling vulnerable and being held, being caught in his solid, certain grip, felt like heaven.
I loved it. I didn’t want the moment to end. I knew it would, but I hoped this would signal a beginning for us. I hoped he felt the same.
But you don’t know if you don’t ask, Rae.
Suddenly anxious, I shifted in his arms. He loosened them so I could see him. Features unsmiling, he gazed at me. I detected something hard behind his eyes. My stomach fluttered with nerves.
“Hi,” I said.
He said nothing.
I licked my lips, trying to read his mood while my dumb mouth spoke without taking the time to deliberate the wisdom of my words. “I just want you to know, I really value our special friendship.”
He laughed. But it was tight, and short, and now I recognized that the hardness behind his eyes was hunger. As he glared down at me, his palm slid into the bunched fabric of my dress, caressing and massaging one of my breasts with touches that felt both light and possessive. He couldn’t keep his hands off my body, apparently.
I felt my smile dwindle as I studied the tired lines etched into his forehead. In that moment, he looked a little wild, his hair askew, his usually well-kept beard longer than I’d ever seen it.
But it was his dark eyes tracking my movements, like a predator unwilling to look away from its prey, that gave me the courage to ask, “Would you consider coming back to the carriage house now?”
He stared at me, still saying nothing, and the wild light flared into something that felt feral.
“You didn’t get much rest.” I tried to sound calm, reasonable, even though the way he watched me set my heart galloping. “We could just sleep, if you want.”
“I’m not going to want to sleep,” he said, his voice a scrape, his erection nudging insistently against my bottom. “And I think you know that.”
A thrill raced down my spine and pulsed between my legs, and I hoped—oh I hope I hope I hope—I was reading him correctly. “I don’t want to sleep either,” I said.
Jackson placed his knuckles under my chin, tilting my face up and placing a hot but sadly closed-mouth kiss against my lips, saying as he lifted his head, “Then let’s go not sleep together.”
Chapter 16
*Raquel*
“Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life.”
Sophia Loren
We didn’t speak on the drive back to Sienna’s house. He’d pulled me close after buckling himself in and starting the truck’s engine, kissing me and making me dizzy all over again before saying, “There’s a center seatbelt.”
I took that to mean, Stay right here.
Once I’d finished strapping into the lap belt, he’d put his arm around my shoulders, tugging me against his side and encouraging my cheek to rest on his chest. His scent surrounding me, soft and fluffy feelings followed, and I discovered how much I loved being held while in a truck, next to Jackson, on a drive.
Fluffy feelings weren’t why we didn’t speak, though. I could guess why Jackson wasn’t in a chatty mood, probably something to do with the persistent outline pressing against the front of his jeans.
My bout of silence, on the other hand, had everything to do with crazy ideas and irrational internal musings.
No rule existed that said I could only act in movies. Maybe I would start taking stage roles, in Knoxville, if the local theaters were interested. Or I could get a different job, start a new career. I didn’t have a college degree, but I could go back to school. I could become one of those legendary stories talked about at Hollywood parties, the A-list actress who dropped off the face of the earth, went back to college, and became a . . .
I could become a . . .
Maybe I could go back to school and major in . . .
My mind blanked.
I’d never wanted to be anything but an actress and work in film. When other kids in high school were going to football games and getting drunk at bonfires afterward, I’d been making movies, figuring out camera angles and line of sight logistics, recording myself running through monologues, critiquing my performances, using makeup to turn myself into an elf, or an ogre, or a 1920s flapper. And then trying again the next day to do everything better.
You don’t have to figure this out right now.
Jackson’s body shifted as he turned the steering wheel. I felt the flexing and roll of his muscles beneath my side, and I tucked all my worries and planning away for later. Much, much later. Tomorrow morning maybe, after Jackson and I spent all day and night in bed together. Then we’d figure it out. Because, short of an act of God, Jackson and I were definitely having—
“Oh my God. What is that?” Jackson pressed on the brake.
Frowning, I lifted my head, and I saw it. Them!
“Oh no!” I lowered immediately to his lap, hiding from view. Cars were parked up and down the two-lane road for what looked like miles. Clustered in front of Sienna’s long driveway and along their fence was a giant swarm of paparazzi.
“Keep driving. Don’t slow down, just keep driving. Drive past them.”
“I can’t. They’re blocking the road.” He sounded irritated. “This is a safety hazard. All these cars need to be moved.”
“Jackson, listen to me. You have to keep driving.”
He didn’t accelerate. “There’s a bunch of people up at the main house too. Like ten limos.”
I groaned, covering my face. “Oh no.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“That must be Sasha. But why are there—she wasn’t supposed to—dammit!” I didn’t have my phone with me to call her. Jackson’s phone wouldn’t help because I didn’t have Sasha’s number memorized.
“Wait!” I pulled my hands away from my face. “Where’s your phone?”
“In the glove box.”
“Can I use it?”
“Yeah. Yes.” He honked his horn. “I’ll give you the password.” Glaring out the windshield, I suspected he was giving someone—or a few someones—a dirty look. “This is a mess.”
Hurriedly, I pulled Jackson’s cell from the glove box, typed in the password he dictated, and scrolled through his contacts. “Do you have Sienna’s number? Or Jethro’s?”
“No. But I have Cletus’s.”
“Yes, I see it.” I typed out a message.
Jackson: Cletus, this is an emergency. I need Sienna’s phone number. (This is Raquel Ezra using Jackson’s phone)
Cletus: What kind of emergency? And how do I know you are who you say you are? Tell me something only Raquel Ezra would know.
Despite the situation, a shocked laugh burst out of me.
“What did he say?”
I read Cletus’s message.
Jackson, pressing on the accelerator, growled. “Call him. Put it on speaker.”
The phone rang four times before a voice picked up. “Ahoy, ahoy.”
“Cletus! This is Jackson.”