That brought a curious smile to her face. “A girl?”
“Yes.” His hands dropped to his sides as he leveled her with his gaze. “Random sex. The ‘guy’ thing. I was good at it … really good at it.”
Those were not inspiring words.
“I never gave women a chance to be clingy or needy or even the opportunity to fall asleep next to me.”
Jackson Knight had been a man whore. Ryn sort of knew that, but she sure didn’t appreciate the reminders.
“I avoided biological clocks, second dates, family dinners, holding hands, and often names weren’t even exchanged.” He nodded. “I know … I was a real prick. But I’m not now, or at least I don’t want to be. So when you kicked me out the other night it pissed me off. I don’t get tossed to the curb like a rejected teddy bear, so when you did it, I realized how much of a clingy female I’d become. I found myself being the one who wanted to stay just to see your face in the morning. But you … well you were me or the old me—the hump ’em and dump ’em person. Anyway, I was mad about Jillian for leaving, rejecting my protection, and I decided to have some menstrual-cycle pity party like a fucking pussy and the anger you saw was really at myself. I was just deflecting it at you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes grew with each point he tried to make, like air being pumped into her head, leaving it ready to explode.
“I’m not even sure where to begin. First, I did not kick you out or hump you and dump you. As I recall, you left.”
“Two seconds after I got you off with my fingers shoved in your pussy and your nipple between my teeth, you said, ‘So … I’ll see you Tuesday.’ So, yeah. I’m not an idiot. You dismissed me.”
Everything in Ryn’s head spun, making her dizzy because nothing made sense. Pussy? Did couples really use that term with each other? She tested it out in her mind. … two fingers shoved in your pussy versus … two fingers shoved in your vagina. It could go either way.
“Would you look in the mirror? I’m sure it sounds like I’m beating this horse to death, but you. Are. A. God! In ten years you are still going to look like a god because men like you only get better with age. I, however, will look fifty: wrinkles, bags under my eyes, all of my skin suffering from loss of elasticity. I want you to be forty and me to be thirty, but it can’t be that way. Thirty for me consisted of supervising slumber parties and shopping for training bras … oh and trying not to upset my husband, who fucked every woman except me then beat the shit out of me for not working hard enough to keep him interested in me.”
With a deep sigh, the kind that came after releasing a lifetime of guilt, Ryn pulled her brows together. “I try to eat well, I exercise regularly, and my bathroom vanity is covered in bottles of creams and lotions that have promised me the fountain of youth but have yet to deliver. I love … whatever this is we’ve been doing. It’s been such a vacation from reality. When I’m with you it’s just … indescribable. Our flirty banter, our pretend wedding with a Vera Wang dress and Ed Sheeran, and the things you say to me that make me feel sexy and desirable in a way I never imagined possible, it’s …” She shook her head.
“I agree.” He stood, easing toward her with a caution he lacked when she arrived. “Except for one thing.”
“You agree?” Ryn looked up as he laced his fingers through her hair, cupping her face.
“Yes. You do eat well and exercise. And I’ve seen your bathroom counter … all those stupid creams are a waste of money because you can’t improve on beauty like yours. The banter, our wedding, the things I say to you, the way I look at you, how fucking hard I get every time I touch you … it’s not pretend. It’s not a game. It is reality. Okay, hot pants?”
Ryn rebounded from her dump of insecurities and giggled instead. “I’m never wearing underwear around you again.”
Jackson quirked a brow. “Mmm … that sounds like a tasty idea.”
The hot flush of embarrassment she felt could have melted Saturn. Sure, she was forty but did that have to mean she was a prude? The woman behind the red face had led a sexually sheltered life coming from the school of boys having penises and girls having vaginas.
“I can’t believe you just said that.” She averted her gaze to the side even with his hands holding her face so close to his.
“I’m just being honest. I find myself constantly craving your pussy.”
“Oh my God! Stop staying that.” Wriggling out of his grasp, she fisted his shirt and buried her face in his chest.
Jackson kissed the top of her head as he chuckled. “What do you want me to say? I like licking—”
“Stop!”
Another devious chuckle. “Or eating—”
“No! No! No!”
“Do you prefer cunt to puss—”
“Vagina! It’s a vagina, okay?” She stopped short of also emphasizing that it’s not a meal or snack. Although, denying how much she enjoyed his tongue exploring her vagina would have been a lie.
Jackson’s chuckle escalated into a full roaring laugh. “You want me to call your pussy a vagina? You think that’s sexy?”
Ryn smiled, face still buried in his shirt. “I don’t want you to call it anything. Please … just let me die.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Day
Jessica had balls that were arguably bigger than most men’s. However, they failed to meet the size requirement for sharing with his parents the riding-Luke’s-face-just-shy-of-an-orgasm incident. He played her, used her for his own pleasure, then tossed her aside to prove a point—he was a worthy adversary.
“Hope you like fajitas, Jessica. I am in the mood for margaritas and guacamole tonight,” Felicity said while filling the glasses, complete with sugar and salt rim garnish.
“I love Mexican.”
Luke handed her a glass. The shit-eating grin needed to be wiped off the smug bastard’s face. “Did you get everything finished up?”
Evil coursed through her veins as she cocked her head to the side while accepting the drink. “Did Luke tell you about Fran?”
Felicity and Tom jerked their heads in Luke’s direction. The easy mood vanished, leaving an eerie silence and tension so tight it felt as if the floor could crack open and swallow them whole.
Jessica thought she’d seen every one of Luke’s facial expressions. She was wrong. There wasn’t a hint of adoration left. The icy look he gave her left her heart pounding in her throat.
“So … you two have discussed Fran?” Felicity asked. Each word sounded cautious as if she, too, could feel the dangerous tension.
Luke swallowed, glaring at Jessica. She wanted to take back every word.
“We discussed how Fran and I met.”
“Oh …” Felicity’s nervous smile hid something. Jessica didn’t know what.
“I … we found out last week that Fran needs a heart transplant.”
Tom and Felicity nodded slowly.
“Jessica thinks I need to go visit her in Scottsdale.”
What was going on? The three of them knew something … something Jessica didn’t.