A text comes through on my phone.
Jack: I’m sorry it feels like I’m acting as if I didn’t do anything wrong. I know I did. I’m not trying to pretend I didn’t. I’m just trying to work through this with you in the only way I know how. And, baby, I know I’m not good at this, so I apologise in advance for screwing it up.
That’s it.
No.
Just, no.
I stalk out of my bedroom and go in search of him.
I find him in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes.
“Do you know what the worst of all this is for me, Jack?” I demand, my entire body tense with anger.
He turns to face me, his expression as earnest as his words when he says, “No, but I want you to tell me.”
“The worst is knowing that while I thought we shared everything and knew everything about each other, we didn’t. You didn’t uphold your end of the bargain.”
He’s standing with his back to the sink, the kitchen counter between us, and he jerks slightly like he’s about to move towards me. He doesn’t, though. He stays where he is and says, “I agree. I absolutely didn’t.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but closes it, remaining silent, waiting for me.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “No, nothing.”
Oh my God, I will find that fucking fishing spear if he doesn’t tell me. “I want to know what you were just about to say.”
“No, I want you to keep going.”
“Say it!” I yell, unable to keep my anger inside for a second longer. “God knows now is the time for us to say everything we never said back then.”
“Jessica, no, I—”
“Jack!” I scream. “Tell me!” How I’m standing here with my hands by my side is beyond me. My hands want to pummel his chest. They want to unleash all the hurt and anger that’s sitting like a big fucking ball in my chest, crushing me.
He looks conflicted, but he gives me what I’ve asked for. “We both hid things,” he says softly, like he doesn’t want to say this at all.
If I wasn’t filled with as much fury as I am, I’d pay attention to what I hear in his voice. I’d pay attention to how clear it is Jack doesn’t want to make this about anything I did, that he seems to just want me to share how I’m feeling about what he did. But I don’t pay attention to that. I zero in on what he’s said about me. “What did I hide from you?”
He takes that step he wanted to take a moment ago, but I hold up my hand and stop him. “Do not come over here. I do not want you in my space.”
He stops moving and turns silent, watching me for a moment before saying, “You didn’t share your struggles with me either.”
“What struggles?”
“Sweetheart,” he says gently, “being in a relationship with me was hard. You were dealing with a lot of Hollywood bullshit and trying to act like none of it affected you. You didn’t share any of that with me.”
“You didn’t want to hear about any of that, Jack. Be honest here. You didn’t.”
He nods slowly. “You’re half right. I wanted you to talk with me about it, but I didn’t know how to help you with it, so it was easier to just let it happen, and to let you keep hiding how it affected you. It was a fucked-up mess and I’m sorry I didn’t do better.”
“And yet, you want to do this again with me? That makes no sense when you’re still dealing with the same stuff now that you were then.”
“We’re both different now. Older. Wiser. And I sure as fuck wouldn’t make the same choices now that I made then. I can assure you of that.”
And that’s it, right fucking there.
It finally triggers all my anger to explode out of me.
“How can I ever trust your assurances again, Jack? How can I believe you now when I thought you’d assured me of forever then?” I stab my finger at him. “That’s where I keep getting stuck. You promised me the world and never gave it to me. You just gave up on it all and let me walk away. Hell, you practically fucking pushed me away. We lost six fucking years because of you. How can I ever trust that we won’t keep losing time? That you won’t make this kind of choice again?”
He lets me get all of that out, and then he does not do what I told him to do.
He does not stay on the other side of that kitchen counter and let me have my space.
He closes the distance between us with three determined strides, puts his arm around my waist, pulling me to him, and cups my face with his other hand before growling, “I will never make that kind of choice again. We’re never losing time again. Fucking never.”
His lips are on mine before I can stop him, and he’s kissing me, claiming me, ruining me.
I want to push him away, slap him, scream at him. God, do I want to fight with him some more over this. I do not want to be ready to let this go, but he steals every last breath of my anger simply by kissing me.
It’s so much more than that, though, and I know it.
I feel it.
I can’t help but feel it down into my bones.
The connection we’ve always had.
It’s soul deep.
The kind that once set free in your veins can never be removed.
Jack has been running through my veins since the day he stole my heart on that Italian beach.
I tried to erase him, but I never did, and the proof of that is in just how easily I feel him all through me the second his lips touch mine.
I’m desperate for him like I never have been.
I can’t get enough of him.
His mouth on me.
His hands on me.
His body against me.
When he finally drags his mouth from mine, I’m breathless with need.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, looking down at me, as breathless as I am.
I can’t think straight.
I don’t want to think straight.
Not now. Not after all this time without him.
I need to be with him like I’ve never needed to be with him.
I reach for his neck and pull his mouth back to mine, kissing him like a savage.
We tear at each other’s clothes. He has my camisole and shorts off faster than I can remove all his clothes. I’ve only got his shirt off before he growls into my mouth, lifts me into his arms, and takes me to the dining table.
Holding me with one arm, he clears the table with one swift swipe of his other arm. The sound of things clattering to the floor is quickly forgotten when Jack deposits me on the table and takes ownership of my mouth again.
I lose my mind.
Literally, I lose everything in it.
That’s what Jack does to me.
I think I’d forgotten how well he does this.
Or maybe I always remembered but have just lost that information now while losing my mind.
All I know right now is how good he’s making me feel.
And that I never want to not feel this again.
He forces me down onto the table, his hands moving over my body as his mouth leaves mine to kiss my neck, my collarbone, my breasts.
I arch up when his tongue circles my nipple.
Holy hell, I need so much more of that tongue in my life.
I reach for him, gripping his hair, directing him to give me more of that.
His growl of approval vibrates over my skin, causing a tidal wave of need through my entire body.