Mr. CEO (35 page)

I
hold
it together pretty well on the ride back to the hotel, although I need Jackson to open all the doors for me. I can't get my hands to unclench, and I know I'm still stalking as we walk up the stairs to the second floor to our room. It's only once we're inside that I start to tremble, and I look around, looking for something I can vent my rage and fury on.

Jackson notices, and grabs one of the cushions from the room's chair, holding it against his body like a shield. “Go ahead, let it out.”

My first punch isn't enough to satisfy me, so I punch again, and again, and again. I'm losing count, my hands barely cushioned by the foam Jackson's holding as my hits thud against his body. I know he’s taking some of the blows, but he nods, encouraging me as the tears start to flow.

“The motherfucker!” I yell in between punches. “How could they just lie to me like that? How could they look me in the eye and lie?”

“I don't know, Katrina,” Jackson says, wincing again as I punch him directly in the chest through the cushion. “I'm sorry.”

“No, they're the ones who are going to be sorry!” I yell back, punching again. Jackson takes a step back, and I follow, raining punches into the cushion. “I'm going to see them both in jail for this! I'm going to destroy them! I'm going to... argh!”

The dam finally breaks inside me, and the tears start. Jackson puts his hands on my shoulders, but it only makes me cry harder. “It's okay, Katrina,” Jackson tries to reassure me, but the tears won't stop. I sit back, sobbing at all the pain and loss, but Jackson slides down next to me, wrapping his arms around me and holding me closely. “It's okay, Katrina.”

I clutch at him, crying for untold minutes until I'm able to pull myself together again. “Why, Jackson? Why'd they do it?”

“It doesn't matter, Katrina,” Jackson says softly, his strong arms holding me safe and secure. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're who you are, and that's pretty damn amazing.”

I sniff and feel fresh tears as I think of the lies. “Then why don't they love me?”

“I don't know, and it doesn't matter,” Jackson says again. His fingers come to my chin, and he turns my face to look into his eyes. He's close again, and this time, there's no denying what we want and need.

Our lips touch, hesitant at first, but it feels so right, and it becomes stronger. My hand comes up to his neck and we grow deeper, our tongues coming out to caress each other. I'm lost, and I've never felt this before, never felt this level of trust and desire inside my body.

We part, and Jackson looks guilty. “Katrina, I shouldn't be taking advantage of you.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “I... liked it. It's a great first real kiss.”

“What?” Jackson says, surprised. He shifts back, and I feel heat on my neck and face. “What do you mean, real kiss?”

“I mean... I'd never had a
real
kiss before,” I answer, getting to my knees in front of him. “I’ve had one purpose in my life, and everything I’ve done was to help achieve that goal.”

“You mean you've never... well, you know, had sex?” Jackson asks, and I blush, but laugh at the same time.

“I'm not a virgin, Jackson. But it never had meaning. There was no emotion.”

I lean in, putting my hands on his shoulders and kiss him again, our lips melting around each other. “Can I tell you a secret, Jackson?”

He nods, and I smile. “You were the first boy I was ever interested in. Actually, I guess you're the only boy I've ever been interested in.”

Jackson smiles and pulls me closer. We raise up, our bodies pressing closer, and I feel a tingle in my body as my breasts press against his chest, my nipples tingling at the pressure. His fingers trace around my ear, and I shiver with desire.

“Katrina,” he says softly, like I used to dream a lover would when I allowed myself such dreams. “So beautiful, so strong. Amazing.”

I bite my lip. “Jackson... it's always been you. You make me feel pretty... you make me feel like...”

“Like what?” he asks when I don't answer. He smiles, and kisses my cheek, trailing his lips toward my ear as I tremble in want. “It's okay. Tell me.”

“You make me feel like... like there's a chance for a future,” I whisper as his lips find the curve of my jaw and kiss, nibbling on the skin and finding the lobe of my ear, where his tongue traces the sensitive curve. I feel every caress of his tongue on my skin, and I'm hot, more aroused than I've ever been. “Oh God...”

Jackson smiles as he sits back, getting to his feet and helping me up. “Come on, Katrina. Let me show you what a future can really be.”

I reach up, taking his hand, and he pulls me up, confident but gentle at the same time. Standing, he pulls me into an embrace, kissing me with that same confidence, with more passion than before, turning me slowly so that I'm backed against the bed, and I tumble down, laughing as my legs fly up and I literally
floomph
onto the bedspread.

Jackson chuckles and kneels down, taking my right boot in his hand and untying it slowly, his hand cupping my calf as he eases it off my foot. My breath catches as he pulls my sock off, and with careful, almost meticulous attention, he kisses my toe before setting it down, his fingers still lingering on my calf. “I wanted to touch these since that first visit to your place,” he says as he unties my other boot, pulling it off before cupping both calves and massaging them with his fingers. “You have no idea how sexy you really are.”

Jackson kisses my knees through my pants as I scoot back, and he joins me on the bed, lying on top of me as we kiss. I'm running my hands through his hair, moaning softly as he finds the pulse of my neck and licks, tasting my skin. Oh, it feels so good...

I feel his hand come up to cup my breast, and suddenly I'm filled with fear, my desire wilting inside me. No, this is too fast, this is going to complicate my mission…

“Wait... wait, Jackson, please, get off,” I beg, pushing him away. “Wait... it's too fast, too fast.”

Jackson rolls, giving me space, getting off the bed and stepping back. “What's wrong?”

“Too... too fast,” I gasp, my heart racing in my chest. I'm not able to make any other words, I'm so confused. My body's tingling, and I want him so badly, but I'm afraid, my body and my heart and my head warring with each other. “Jackson... I can't. Not yet.”

He looks like he wants to protest, and my body wants him to. My body wants him to disregard my words and shove me back into the mattress and get back on top of me. But my heart is afraid. I've never let anyone in this close before, and my head is against it, knowing that if I do, my mission becomes that much harder.

He must see the confusion in my eyes, because he nods. “When you’re ready.”

I
t's not the ocean
, but the lake is beautiful, and according to the guy I asked at the supermarket where I bought the supplies, there's no problems with snakes or alligators. The blanket we snatched from our hotel room, and Katrina carries it folded over her arm as we walk toward the shore, holding hands. “A picnic, huh?”

I shrug. “I know that I come off as a rich boy,” I say, thinking about the skirt that Katrina's put on again. She looks so fucking sexy in it. “I know that I like to make it rain sometimes, but I can enjoy the simpler things in life too, you know.”

“I know,” Katrina replies, giving me a meaningful look. “Jackson, my opinion of you has changed from a few weeks ago. Yeah, I know you still enjoy the money, but this... this is very nice, too. Come on, let's enjoy.”

Katrina spreads out the blanket while I arrange my backpack, which we filled with items grabbed from the supermarket's deli: fried chicken, potato salad, and sweet tea, with a tub of banana pudding for dessert. A certifiable Southern feast. “You're really willing to risk that stuff calling itself tea after what happened earlier with the stuff at the cafe?”

“As long as I keep telling myself it's not tea, I can live with it,” I say. “Besides, it's better for us than Coke, and you said you don't drink alcohol, right?”

“No, I never drink it by choice,” Katrina says, curling her legs underneath her. “I know, it's weird.”

I sit down and open the container of chicken. “Actually, if it doesn't cause you pain, I'd like to hear more. You've told me some, but you’re still a mystery.”

Katrina thinks, then nods. “Okay. Well, you kind of got the basics. After the bomb, I was pretty screwed up, and bounced to two foster homes before landing with Virginia. She's had her own issues, and while she never told me all the details, let's just say she had her own vendetta that she dealt with. But through her, I learned to channel my anger and frustration, to focus on what was necessary. But it also blinded me to some things as well.”

“It's fine,” I dismiss, handing her a paper plate with food on it. “Go on.”

“Well, the first thing she taught me was mental focus. I was taught to use my anger to burn away everything that wasn't focused on my goal. I was taught a meditation, one that, thinking about it now, does give me some regrets.”

“How's it go?” I ask, and Katrina shakes her head, embarrassed. “It's okay. I won't be upset, no matter what it is.”

Katrina looks at me, her light blue eyes questioning, and reaches a decision. “Okay. Here's how it goes.

Pretty morbid stuff, isn't it?”

I swallow, hearing the icy rage in her voice as she repeated the mantra, and nod. “Yeah, but I understand now. After today... I understand more.”

“Well, from there I learned to let go of a lot of concerns about legality. I learned to evaluate things more on what’s moral rather than what’s strictly legal. I learned about computers as you know, and more martial arts, and the Touches... well, those you know about.” Katrina looks shy, and I love it. “I guess nothing all that useful.”

“Oh, I think one of those is useful,” I say, grinning, but I realize it’s probably not the best time. “No, but seriously, I had a silly image last night, during one of the times that I woke up, before the dream got disturbing.”

“Oh? What was it?” Katrina asks, and I wave her off. “Come on, it can't be that silly.”

“Well, I had a dream that you and I opened a gym together,” I tell her, sipping at the tea. It's horrible, but not as bad as the stuff this morning, maybe because it's still pretty much ice cold and a lot of the sweetness is numbed. “You taught women how to kick ass like you do, and I taught people how to get ripped. Oh, and you taught me some of your tricks.”

“You seem to have a pretty natural skill, I don't think you need the Touches,” Katrina jokes.

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind feeling them again,” I say, grinning.

* * *

I
'm lying
in bed after reading for the past hour and trying to get my mind on anything other than today's events. Going to Katrina's parents' apartment, the beat down, and running away are part of it, but instead, my mind wants to go back to the feeling of her in my arms, the way she felt when we kissed, and the desire that flowed through me the rest of the day.

I look over at Katrina, who's sleeping, her lips slightly parted, so soft and kissable...

“Shit,” I mutter, lying back on my side of the bed. I can't get up and go to the bathroom to beat off, that’s fucking shameful. I haven't had to beat off to alleviate blue balls since... well, ever. At least I'm not standing at attention right this second, although my cock is awake and telling me all sorts of things it would like to do right now.

I close my eyes, hoping that maybe I can get some sleep, and maybe I do drift off, because the next thing I’m aware of is a light Touch on my forearm, sending warm sparks through me, and I hum slightly. “Mmm...”

“Shh,” Katrina whispers in my ear, her hand touching another area, and even though I'm in a fantasy, I know I'm also awake. My eyes open, and I see that Katrina's turned on the little lamp next to her side of the bed, and she's taken off all of her clothes. I blink, making sure I'm not imagining things.

“Katrina?”

“Tonight... I want there to be a future tonight,” she whispers, her voice choked with feeling, and I notice she's pulled the bedspread down, removing the barrier between us. “Tonight... show me what it can be.”

She touches me again, and I'm fully awake, fully aware of what's happening, but still clear-headed, my desire for her completely natural, not manufactured by what she's doing. She leans down, her body sliding over mine, and looks into my eyes. “Katrina...”

“Be my first, Jackson,” she pleads, her eyes filled with emotion. “Be my first real lover.”

I nod, and she lowers her lips the last few inches, and we kiss. What I don't tell her, what I want to tell her, is that I've never had a real lover either, not the way she's talking about anyway. And in that kiss, she's my first as well.