Jack Who? (Silver Strings G Series) (10 page)

The kiss continued, robbing her of any rational thought and sending every cell in her body screaming for more. Her back hit the cushions of the couch, and his weight continued to press.

Frantically, she ripped the band from his hair, desperate to feel it between her fingers like that day in a tour bus, ages ago. Her breath reduced to pants, and when his lips and tongue touched the crook of her neck, she groaned.

The thin clingy material of the dress was barely a barrier between the denim that had grown increasingly harder against her leg. Bringing a knee up slightly, she shifted, and feeling that movement, he did the same until his hardness cradled perfectly against her softness and their moans into the current kiss were synonymous.

The tantalizing tunnel of his hand beneath the dress, from her knee to her thigh and almost hip, had her sucking in a startled breath. The silky strands of his hair dragged across her face as he pulled his kiss from her lips and took it to the depths of her neckline. Tracing his tongue, on the skin just beneath that loose fabric barrier, had her shifting instinctively against his jeans, seeking the relief restrained by a zipper, and in this rapturous delirium, his name breathed through her lips.

Bringing them face to face again, his dilated gaze moved over hers and their lips brushed together. Smiling and speaking against them, he rumbled, “Goodnight Mariss...”

For several stunned seconds, she lay, incredulously watching as he clipped his phone to his pocket and searched out the keys to his rental car. Dark strands of hair were wild about his face, and as if feeling her observation of them, he raked his hand through the mane, taming it only slightly.

“Wait!” Jumping up, she closed her fingers over his arm, and letting her look drop to his jeans she teased, “You can’t leave... like that...”

“It won’t be a problem.” A naughty look accompanied his assurance. “I will think about you. I have a good imagination and even better memory.”

The implications of those words had her flushing for so many reasons, and her rejection and dejection must have been plain on her face because empathy replaced the evil smirk in his eyes.

“Get some sleep, okay? I know you’ve been stressed.”

“So de-stress me.” Keeping her voice light, she tried not to let the desperation show. Even though making out with Jack on the couch had not been a part of any immediate phase, she was ready to roll out a future phase and roll with him. “You owe me. Remember? Stage fright cure?”

This drew a smile and encouraged, she bribed, “I’m wearing red...”

A couple of steps brought him closer where he hooked a finger in the neckline of the dress enough to peer inside. Upon finding that the lingerie matched the dark dress, he only raised challenging brows.

“Well, I was hoping you would figure out the truth in a more fun way...”

It was insane that his nearness and just the barest brush of his finger on her skin could turn her into some hormonal teenager.

“That’s how you roll then? Just let people figure out the truth?” Lightly, he bantered back, his gaze holding hers a slight second.

There was a tone in his voice, and she stepped back although he was moving away.

“What?” she wondered and nervously fiddled with the bracelet cuffed on her wrist.

Remaining quiet, he grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch, and as she watched his decorated arms slide into the sleeves, a horrible feeling stained her senses. The idea that his light words were anything but.

“What did you mean by that?” Letting him leave without opening this can of worms is what she should have done. Yet, at the hospital, he had hinted of an issue he had with her before backing off the topic.

“Nothing, I was joking around...” Crouching, he laced up his shoes.

Dubiously, she stared, feeling on the brink of some major something in their relationship that had nothing to do with her planned phases. Was she reading too much into it? When he glanced at her again, she saw in his eyes the same fleeting shadow she had glimpsed a few times. In agitation, her arms folded across her heavy chest.

Relenting with a last tug of a shoelace, he straightened and spoke. His tone was turbulent like her feelings. “It seems like just when I feel like something is happening between us, I get mad at you all over again.”

‘Feel like something is happening between us...’

Her heart thudded with happiness and then dropped to the pit of her stomach as the rest of his words sank in.

“Mad? At me?!” Her voice incredulously cracked.

“It’s hard not to be when you hid my son from me for almost five years.”

The accusation reeled harder than a slap, and she shouted, “I thought you would be mad if you knew! I thought you would think that I was an– an opportunist!” When his eyes remained stormy with accusation, she steamrolled on, “You were so afraid of being screwed over you required a– a sex contract!”

“That piece of paper has nothing to do with this! This is about the fact that I would have never known I had a son if he hadn’t needed this surgery!” His voiced rose in anger to match hers, and he punctuated his sentence with an aggrieved sigh.

The guilt pricked. Slipping out of the uncomfortable FM shoes was the first thing she had done upon returning home, but now she stubbornly dug self-righteous heels into his dirty charges.

“You didn’t want to know. My phone calls to you are proof of that!” The memory, of the call he had finally answered, opened a floodgate and it all poured out– how with a few choice words and a dropped call tone in her ear, he had made her feel like trash.

“I wouldn’t have hated on you like that if you would have told me about this...” Squatting, he picked up the tiny crutches from the floor for emphasis.

“You didn’t give me a chance. And if you didn’t believe what I was telling you, about Tristan being yours, then all the rest was kind of moot wasn’t it?”

Heading to the hallway and down it, he stopped in Tristan’s room quietly placing the walking sticks within reach of the bed. Automatically, she followed holding a few paces back as he pulled the blankets higher over Tristan’s tiny body and brushed a gentle hand through his hair. Closing the door all but a crack, he traipsed toward her, and she led the way back to the den.

Once they were safely out of earshot of Tristan’s room, he said, “I told you already. I’m sorry about that call. You’ve got to understand, my entire life I’ve been in the limelight, in one way or another. And when you live that way, someone always wants a piece. You discover there are fewer people you can trust than those you can. All I can do at this point is apologize and try to make it up. But you act like your part in this doesn’t even matter.”

Taunting her memories was another phone call. The one where she lay on the couch five months pregnant, longing to tell him the secret he was seeking, and fantasizing of creating a family with him– not just from him.

“I couldn’t tell you!” Shoving the words through clenched teeth, she sought to make him understand. “You are fucking famous–”

“Nothing changes the fact that I am a father. And I had a right to know it!”

“Okay! Okay. I’m sorry. If I was wrong and you would have wanted in, all of this time, I’m sorry.” Fully aware that it was a crappy apology, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Her gaze instead settled on the shelving where Tristan’s baby book of milestones was the top of a book stack instead of buried within it. Obviously, Jack had read through it.

“Dammit, Marissa!” The sofa table was between them, and he rounded it to stand before her. “I don’t know what I would have wanted. The point is I was never given a chance to find out. I do know that no matter what I wanted when it came to a kid, I would have dealt with it. And one thing I do know, I wanted you...”

He swooped in for a kiss, and confused, she jerked away. Insistent hands clamped on her upper arms, holding her in place for the next attempt. Turning her head only resulted in his kiss hitting one of the sweet spots of her neck, and it wasn’t long before she turned into it. Just as she lost herself in it, he straightened. When she pulled at him attempting to steal another one of those kisses, he resolutely pulled away. Just as before!

Irate, she gaped. “That’s not fair! I wasn’t finished.”

Flashing a cocky smile, he yanked at the zipper of his hoodie. “I’ll call you tomorrow before I head over. Maybe pick up a pizza on the way?”

“You better call,” she obstinately agreed.

“Why? Going somewhere?” His taunt was soft and slightly amused that she was mad. Ignoring him, she scooped her shoes from the floor and flipped off a lamp in preparation for bed. As he moved to the door, he reminded, “And don’t forget, if Tristan feels like it, we are all going out. He said he might want to go to a movie.”

This entire ordeal was a conundrum. No matter how peeved she was at Jack, from now on, no matter what happened there would be Tristan to consider.

It was then that it hit her. Jack was in her life for good. Whether as a lover or an ex one had yet to be determined. 
My Lanta
. She couldn’t even think about staying in touch with him yet never touching him.

Clutching the door, she watched his broad shoulders move away into the shadows of the night. After closing himself in the car, he looked to her as the motor purred to life. Restraining the urge to wave, she backed into the house and flipped the lock fighting a wave of loneliness as the sound faded.

This new layer of Jack, uncovered tonight, was as provocative as it was asinine. Her fury with him was only matched by her desire for him, and she resolved to do everything in her power to win him over.

THE NEXT AFTERNOON
, they sat in a line of cushy seats impatiently waiting for the latest Pixar sensation to begin. A large tub of shared popcorn rested in Tristan’s lap. Tristan was between them, but Jack was getting most of the little boy’s attention. The lights dimmed, and instead of watching the previews, she covertly observed father and son.

Jack was dressed in low profile mode, his hair and arms hidden in a hoodie, but when the lights went down, he shrugged it off. Tristan traced the art on Jack’s arm, a tiny finger brushing over the colorful guitar and the music notes. He seemed at ease with it, and she had to assume that by going out last night she had missed the big reveal of Jack taking off his jacket. How she would have loved to have seen Tristan’s face, and hear his questions.

Afterward, Jack suggested a restaurant, but Tristan wanted to drive through and carry food home.

“Are you hurting buddy?” Jack was concerned, and when Tristan shook his head declaring he just wanted to eat at home, Jack let the subject drop, however, the glance he slid her way was sad and perceptive. Tristan was embarrassed on crutches. Only the anticipation of seeing one of his favorite animated characters on an IMAX screen had lured him
into the theater.

~♫♪♫~

Back at the house, they dug into their supreme tacos while watching another movie, this one from the DVD collection. Since Tristan had seen it a dozen times, he gave her no problems about a bath midway through. After getting him into the tub, along with the requested Hot Wheels cars and bubbles she used as bribery, she checked the thermostat, making sure the air conditioner wouldn’t kick on, and left the bathroom door ajar.

Halting at the end of the hallway, she took in Jack sprawled on the couch. Just like last night, he looked as if he had occupied that spot a hundred times over. Despite the angry sparks last night, all day long, sparks
of a different kind had flown between them. Flirtatious behavior was rampant enough that even Tristan in his oblivious state had noticed a couple of times.

Jack was quick with the one-line innuendos, and after being astonished and rendered speechless the first couple of times, she boomeranged them right back.

At the theater, he held the door open while first Tristan, then she, passed through. His hand rested his hand on her back as he followed– a hand that accidentally brushed her rear when he later let it drop to pay for the refreshments. As they watched the movie, his arm stretched across the back of Tristan’s seat enough to allow his fingers to brush her shoulder, caress her neck, and play in her hair.

Intermittent splashes and happy hums sounded from the bathroom, and before she could talk herself out of the impulse, she went with it. Ignoring Jack’s perplexed look when she advanced so quickly, she dropped to the couch. Using, first one knee, and then the other, she straddled him. Using her weight to hold him, she closed each of her hands vice-like on his upper arms.

“Mmh Mariss, what’s up...” In keeping with the surreal day, a day that felt like they were a couple, a family, the husky, sensual pitch of his words did not let her down.

“Paybacks,” readily, she spoke against his lips.

Instinctively, her tongue traced his lips, teasing the corners and her teeth tugged at the bottom one. A deep rumble in his throat drove her to deepen the kiss, and he remained compliant, participating without taking over. It was fun and fiery being the one to plunder, to pace things, and she kissed and kissed, staring into those dark eyes whenever their eyes would blink open at the same time.

When she was able to speak, she taunted softly, “You have fun by yourself last night?”

Surprise widened his eyes, but he didn’t miss a beat of this new verbal game. “Yeah I did. Told you I have a good imagination.” Studying her face in that heated way he had, he taunted right back, “You?”

“Me what?”
 So good. His tongue felt so good... “Mmh...”

The muscles in his arms jumped when she retreated from his mouth and tasted the base of his throat, and instinctively with last night’s teasing in the back of her mind, she held him fast, brushing her lips to an evening rough jaw as he spoke.

“Did you pick up where we left off? Mariss?”

Indignantly, she straightened, then quickly dropping her imprisoning weight back to her hands. “I went to sleep!”

“Ouch! That’s cold...” He grumbled, and his eyes fell longingly to her lips.

“You are cold.” Her reply was chastising but she couldn’t refuse the kiss he wanted
and returned her mouth to his.

“I feel hot...” The whisper opened his lips and her tongue slipped through again.

This had begun as a game to leave him wanting as he had done her last night, but it was becoming impossible to pull away. When at last she managed it, whispering a mocking, “Goodnight Jack,” the biceps beneath her hand flexed. The amusement in his eyes and that sudden movement had her thinking twice about the soundness of her plan.

No matter how quick she released and attempted to get away, his reflexes would be faster. The sardonic light in his eyes, as he assessed her plight, confirmed this.

On a resigned sigh, she breathed, “You are just going to grab me aren’t you?”

“Damn straight,” his soft, husky answer rebounded and a smile danced mischievously in his eyes, not unlike Tristan’s when he gelled Bally’s hair into spikes.

Choosing that moment, in the hope that he would not expect her to escape right way, she used her hands as a pivot point to leap from the couch. With the swift reflexes of a tiger, he made a successful grab the second she let up, but like a gator, he promptly rolled trapping her between him and the back of the sofa.

Vicelike, he pinned her and while stealing a kiss dropped a leg over hers enough to continue the roll until he was on top. Wild heartbeats slammed into her rib cage. Breathless from the struggle, she completely lost her breath when he continued this kiss.

“Let me up...” She shifted her mouth enough to speak, and unwilling to gracefully lose bucked against him for good measure.

“No...Uh uh...” he spoke against her ear and catching the lobe between his teeth, teased it with his tongue.

“Now... I...see why you have a sex contract thing...” Her shameless words were light and teasing, but he immediately brought his face back to hers.

“Mariss, my honey, will you shut up about that paper...”

‘My honey.
’ The endearment sounded so sweet from his lips, and she searched his face.

Tristan laughed in his playing, the sound echoing loudly from the tiled bathroom, shattering the spell and busting the brink they found themselves on. Grudgingly, Jack moved. Sitting up, he stared reflectively into the stained glass shade of a lamp, and when he spoke, it was not anything she expected to hear.

“Awhile back, some girl claimed rape. Turns out money was all it took to make it go away. She took the first measly offer.” Hastily, he assured when his eyes took in her face, “I didn’t. I swear.”

“I know...” The belief easily emerged as she read his haunted look. Jack was persistent, and playful, but as she had learned the hard way last night, he had self-control. He was an ass, but he was no rapist.

Meeting her gaze, he went on, “I guess that’s the reason I acted like I did that day on the phone. When you told me you got pregnant, it felt like extortion all over again.”

“I knew it would.” Last night she had tried to explain, and now with the same words she strove for his understanding. “That’s why I didn’t tell you when it happened.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry Jack. You’re right. It wasn’t for me to decide.” Her fingertips traced the slight stubble she’d felt against her lips and face.

The kiss he laid on her was caring, tender, and forgiving, and the kiss she gave back was convincing, trusting and fiery with love.

Love?
 It was no question although the word itself was new in her thoughts toward him. She had been in love with Jack Storm forever.

Tristan played loudly in the bathroom, and she knew his bathwater would be getting cold. She and Jack played bravely, hands and lips wandering until she was so hot she was delirious.

“Could I have more bubbles?” The toddler’s voice drifted down the hall.