Love Left Behind (18 page)

Jackson reached up with
his other hand and brushed my cheek softly. He didn't say any words and he
didn't need to. I knew he understood how I was feeling without having to say
anything.

"We should
go," I said, breaking the silence. "Claire's going to be wondering
what we're doing in here."

We were lucky to grab a
cab and make it to the art gallery under half an hour, even with the rain and
traffic. Claire seemed to have gotten a burst of energy and chattered
throughout the whole cab ride, talking about auditions she had gone on, ideas
of how to get
Choosing Matthew
into a
bigger venue and different acting classes she was considering taking.

The art gallery was
small but tastefully appointed, taking care to make sure the paintings were the
center of attention. There was already a crowd milling around, looking very
downtown chic, when we arrived and Claire craned her neck to catch sight of
Nathan after we checked our umbrella.

"There he
is," Claire announced, pointing out Nathan in the crowd. He was standing
next to Mia and talking to a group of people excitedly with sweeping hand
gestures.

"Why don't we take
a look around?" Jackson said. "Looks like Nathan's talking to some
potential buyers."

"I'll catch up
with you guys later," Claire said. "I see a few of my friends over there."

She disappeared into
the crowd and Jackson and I maneuvered our way in the gallery to look at the
paintings. I was impressed with Nathan's work. I didn't know much about art,
but I could see the raw emotion in his paintings. They were mostly abstract,
but they pulled you in with glimpses of something familiar. If you looked at
them a certain way, you could catch a woman covering her face with her hands in
distress, a haggard man staring back at you with empty eyes. It was powerful,
disturbing, and completely fascinating.

"What do you
think?" Jackson asked as we moved from one painting to the next.

"He's obviously
really talented. I'm not big on abstract art, but when I look at his paintings,
I realize that I'm not just looking at a few smudges of paint randomly
splattered on the canvas. I'll see something real, like a man hunched over
looking alone and desolate."

Jackson grinned at my
observation. "Nathan would love to hear that. He's always talking about
his art not being for the critics but for real people. He always says that
while he has an intention behind every painting, it's more important for the
observer to decide what they see."

"Right now, I see
a gorgeous man who's about to get me a drink," I looked meaningfully at
the bar.

Jackson grinned. "Vodka
tonic?"

"Yes,
please."

As Jackson weaved
through the crowd, I turned back to the painting we had been standing in front
of. The canvas swirled with red and black brush strokes and I was staring at
it, trying to glean what it meant, when I heard someone call my name.

"Emma!"
Nathan said as he approached with a huge grin. "I'm glad you could make
it."

He gave me a kiss on
the cheek and Mia was right behind him, giving me a quick hug.

"What do you
think?" Nathan asked, sweeping his hand around the gallery.

Mia rolled her eyes.
"Nathan, stop fishing for compliments."

I laughed at Nathan's
affronted expression. "He doesn't need to fish for compliments. I was just
telling Jackson that you're really talented. I don't know much about art, but I
know that I feel something when I look at your paintings. It's amazing that I
can feel desolation or fear from just a few brush strokes."

Nathan beamed, looking
beyond pleased at my compliment. Mia nudged me with her elbow, zeroing in on my
mention of Jackson.

"Where is Jackson,
by the way?" she asked. She smiled at me slyly. "I hear you guys are
spending a lot of time together."

I flushed, wondering
what Claire had told her. "We've spent some time getting to know each
other. He's a great guy."

Mia nodded eagerly.
"He is. And I heard he's smitten."

"Mia," Nathan
said warningly with a frown. "You weren't supposed to say anything."

Mia looked at Nathan
guiltily. "Sorry. But I'm sure Emma already knows that." She turned
back to me. "Right, Emma?"

I cleared my throat,
feeling a little embarrassed. "I guess."

Jackson chose that
moment to reappear with two drinks in his hands. I hoped he hadn't overheard
our conversation.

"Great show,
Nathan," Jackson said in greeting. He grinned at Mia. "I'm glad
you're here to make sure he doesn't sabotage potential sales." Jackson
handed me my drink. "Once Nathan forbade someone from buying a painting
because he was wearing penny loafers and a sweater tied around his
shoulders."

"Actually, we were
just talking about you," Mia said with a mischievous smile. "I was
just saying that I'm sure Emma already knows that you're smitten with
her."

Instead of being
embarrassed, Jackson wrapped his arm around my waist, smiling down at me.

"I think Emma, out
of everyone, knows that."

I was blushing furiously
but I smiled faintly. "Let's concentrate on Nathan's show and not the
state of Jackson's feelings towards me. Otherwise, I have a feeling I'll be
drinking heavily tonight."

Nathan nodded
approvingly, grinning. "That's right. Let's bring the subject back to
me."

Fortunately, the topic
did shift back to Nathan as we walked around the gallery and he told us a
little about each painting. He was bombarded with people coming up to him and
he handled it with ease, reveling in the attention.

"He loves all the
fawning, but he hates selling his paintings," Mia confided in me. We were
standing next to Jackson and Nathan who were busy talking to a couple of guys
that they knew. Jackson had introduced me, but I had become disinterested in
their conversation about sports, so Mia and I had drifted into our own
conversation. "He says it's like having to sell his children. I keep
telling him that his 'children' are crowding our apartment and he needs to get
rid of some of them."

"I can imagine it
would be tough to live with some of these paintings." Several were
oversized and taller than I was. Mia had explained that Nathan used a spare
bedroom in their apartment as a studio, but he had so many paintings that they
were spilling into the rest of the apartment.

We didn't see much of
Claire during the showing. I caught glimpses of her talking to other people and
she seemed to be having a good time. Once I turned to find her watching me, and
I gave her a little wave. Instead of waving back, she frowned and turned
around.

"Claire can be
moody as hell," Mia volunteered. I turned to her, not realizing she had
witnessed the exchange. "Don't take it personally."

"Really?" I
asked, surprised. "She's been nothing but nice to me since I moved in, but
sometimes I get an odd vibe from her."

"Don't get me
wrong, I like Claire," Mia said. "We've been friends for a while, but
I've never been able to get really close to her. It's like she builds a barrier
and doesn't let anyone see her true emotions. I've never seen her really happy
and I've never seen her really sad. It's like she's always even-keeled. We're
women-that's not possible!"

I laughed at Mia's
comment, but I understood what she meant. I often felt like Claire was watching
everyone, silently assessing everything and tucking away her observations.

Jackson reached over,
pulling me next to him by my waist, and I forgot about Claire.

"How are you
doing?" he asked with a sweet smile.

"Great! I'm having
a good time."

Jackson leaned down and
kissed me softly. We had been like this all night and I was too happy to wonder
if we were making a spectacle of ourselves. Our feelings were so new that it
was hard to keep our hands off each other. We were constantly touching each
other, stealing quick kisses, and forgetting about everyone else, the crowd
fading away as we focused on each other.

Unfortunately, I knew I
had to get home at a decent hour so that I wasn't exhausted for work tomorrow.

"I hate to end the
night, but I should go home. Otherwise, I'm going to be dragging
tomorrow."

Jackson looked
disappointed, but he didn't argue. I was happy he seemed to understand that I
had to make work a priority. We said our goodbyes to Nathan and Mia and
promised that we would get together soon. Jackson went to coat check to get his
umbrella while I looked for Claire to tell her we were leaving. I found her at
the bar and I made my way towards her.

"Claire," I
said, touching her arm to get her attention. "We're leaving now. Do you
want to come with us?"

Claire smiled, none of
her earlier moodiness apparent. "You guys go ahead. I'm going to stay for
a while."

"Okay, but make
sure to take a cab home. It's getting pretty late."

"Yes, Mom,"
Claire said, grinning. "See you later."

Jackson hailed a cab
when we got outside and we climbed inside, thankful that it had finally stopped
raining. When we got to my apartment, Jackson paid the cab driver and got out
as well.

"Why aren't you
taking the cab to your place?" I asked. I gave him a stern look.
"Remember, I have to get up early tomorrow. As much as I'd like to, I have
to make it an early night."

Jackson wrapped his
arms around me and I knew with a little convincing, I would relent and invite
him upstairs. He gave me a long lingering kiss and I had to stop myself from
asking him to come up with me so that I could strip him naked and explore his
body with my tongue. My illicit thoughts when it came to Jackson never ceased
to amaze me.

"I'm so close, I'm
just going to walk home. Besides, I didn't want the cab driver leering while I
gave you a proper kiss goodnight."

"I think I need
another goodnight kiss. The first one barely registered," I lied with an
impish smile.

Jackson lifted his
eyebrows but his eyes gleamed with the challenge. "I'll have to try harder
then, I guess."

He slowly brushed my
lips with his, nipping at my bottom lip and sucking it gently into his mouth.
He cradled my head between his hands and soon the kiss went from gentle to
demanding. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, mimicking another act, letting
me know what he was craving. I whimpered and wrapped my arms around his neck,
pushing my breasts against his chest, my nipples aching to be touched.

I barely registered the
raindrops falling on us. All I could focus on was the heat of Jackson's mouth,
his hands pushing my hips against his, letting me feel how much he wanted me.
Our kiss was wild and out of control as we both strained to get as close to
each other as possible, never feeling that we were close enough.

Jackson broke the kiss
first, breathing harshly and resting his forehead against mine.

"It's
raining," he rasped, stating the obvious. We were both getting soaked, but
I couldn't seem to care at that moment. I looked up at Jackson's face,
raindrops streaming down his face, his hair completely soaked, and I felt as
happy as if it were a brilliantly sunny day.

"I noticed,"
I replied wryly. I looked down at Jackson's empty hands. "Where's the
umbrella?"

"I must have left
it in the cab," Jackson replied with a rueful grin. "It's okay. I'm
already soaked and it's a short walk home."

I shook my head. "Come
upstairs. You can't go home like this. You'll catch a cold."

"Emma, really, I’m
okay. This wasn't some ploy to get you to invite me upstairs, as much as I'd
like to strip you naked right now. I know you need to get up early for work
tomorrow. I'll have to wait for Wednesday."

I knew he was right. I
knew that inviting Jackson up wasn't a good idea. I didn't want to risk being
late for work tomorrow and I didn't know what time Claire would be home. But at
that moment, I didn't care. All I knew was that I wanted Jackson. And that want
overpowered everything else.

"I know," I
whispered. "But there's no way I can just go to bed now. All I can think
about is you being inside of me. If you don't go up with me, I'm just going to
have to make myself come. And my fingers don't feel nearly as good as your
cock."

Jackson's arms
tightened around me, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Sweetheart, you
only have to ask once. Although one of these days, you're going to have to let
me watch you touch yourself."

We rushed up the stairs
to my apartment, barely making it to my bedroom before we started stripping off
our wet clothes. We didn't even make it to the bed. Jackson turned me around so
my hands were braced against the wall and he swiftly entered me from behind, each
thrust taking me closer and closer to the edge. His hands cupped my breasts,
holding on to them as he pumped furiously, his fingers twisting my nipples
until I cried out. He reached down with one hand and stroked my clit as he
continued pounding into me. I was unable to swallow my cries when my orgasm
made me shudder as wave after wave of pleasure wracked my body.

As the last tremor left
me, I moved back against Jackson, wanting him to find his release as well.

"Please,
Jackson," I whispered. "Come inside me."

Jackson groaned as he
started thrusting again, his hands now on my hips as he slammed in and out of
me.

"You feel so
fucking good, Emma. So tight. So wet. This is mine, Emma. This is mine."

Jackson thrust in me
one last time, crying out gutturally and making unintelligible sounds as he
pumped his release into me. I tightened my muscles, milking him, wanting every
last drop of his come inside of me. I felt an acute need to be as close to him
as possible, to have everything from him. Because he had everything from me.