and suck. It’s his undoing. A flow of curses comes thick and fast, and plenty of verbal warnings, too. I take him all, feeling him come in long, surging pulses, his essence pouring into my mouth.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he puffs, grinding his groin against my mouth, trying to catch a breath. Pulling free and falling toward me, he flattens me on the bed with his heavy, sweaty body. I smile, satisfied, and swallow. “You are fucking amazing,” he pants, a dead weight spread all over me.
“And now I really need that coffee.”
He laughs and struggles to push himself up onto his elbows until he has my face in his sights. I blank out the blemish on his cheekbone and give him a dazzling smile, feeling rather pleased with myself. “I’m booking in one of those for every day of the rest of our lives together.”
“It’ll cost ya,” I warn.
“Name your price, baby.”
His serious demand gives me pause. I was being playful. I had nothing in mind specifically. “Can I think about it?”
“Yes, but you only have until tomorrow.” He dips and kisses my forehead, and then rolls onto his back.
I’m straight up on my elbows, looking at him lying beside me. “What’s happening tomorrow?” Has he decided tomorrow is the day he’ll tell Stephanie it’s over? Once again, I’m breaking out in a sweat, and it has nothing to do with the effort I just put into giving Jack head.
His head falls to the side. “You’re giving me another one of those.” He points at his semi-erect cock, then to my mouth.
I calm a little, falling to my back next to him. It’s only a little, because one thing we haven’t talked about is when he plans on telling her. I need to know. I need to be prepared…and possibly out of the country. I didn’t want to ask, and I planned never to, but all of these mild heart attacks I keep having aren’t good for me. “Jack, I’m not asking to put pressure on you, but can you give me some kind of indication as to when you plan on…” My question rolls to a stop. I don’t know why I can’t finish.
“I tried this morning before her parents picked her up.” He shakes his head as he glances away. “But every time I went to say the words…it’s like she knows what’s coming and gives me crazy eyes to remind me of what I can expect.”
“You sure she knows?” I ask. Maybe he’s wrong. I can’t figure out if it’s better for her to be expecting it or not.
“Oh, she knows. In bed last night she—”
“Whoa!” I half-laugh, half-gape at him, not quite believing those words just came out of his mouth.
He drops his head to the side and gazes at my disbelieving face, taking my hand and squeezing. “Just listen,” he orders softly, so I brace myself, breathing in deeply and wincing in advance. “I got in the spare bed last night, for obvious reasons.” He clenches his eyes shut, and his body definitely shudders. “She climbed in with me in the middle of the night. I pushed her away, Annie.” Jack points to the blemish on his cheekbone. “She knows.” I see all kinds of emotions in his grays, and definitely a bit of guilt. And he must see the fear in mine, because he rushes on. “She won’t make me stay. I promise you.”
I fall quiet for a moment, thinking. He needs to get out. He needs to get out now, and he would need to even if I wasn’t in his life. This is fucked up on so many levels. “Will you tell her about me?” I ask, biting my lip nervously.
“God, no.” He shakes his head vehemently. “No. I want to keep you as far away from it as possible, which will be fucking hard when I know I’ll need you close.”
He wants me out of the firing line. He wants to protect me from the repercussions. But really, things will be no different. We’ll still need to sneak around because no one can know about us, which leads me to another question. Yet I don’t voice it. How long will it be before we can just…be? What’s an acceptable period of time for someone to move on? What’s an acceptable period of time for a woman to start seeing a man who’s recently left his wife? Months? Years?
I fold on the inside a little, wondering how long I have to wait until I can say Jack is mine. Just mine. Some of him was better than nothing of him. I couldn’t walk away. Still can’t. My only out isn’t really an out at all. It feels more like a punishment. When Jack leaves her, people will see the state of Stephanie, because there’s no doubt she’ll be spiraling downward. They will judge Jack and if they find out about me, they will judge me, too.
“Annie?” Jack’s anxious call of my name pulls my eyes from the ceiling to him. His face is worried as he squeezes my hand. Threading his fingers through mine, he holds on tight, as if he senses my despondent thoughts and he’s worried I might up and leave.
“If anyone finds out about us, they’ll blame me,” I murmur, looking back up to the ceiling. “To them, I’ll be the cause of a woman’s devastation and heartache, and I kind of am, Jack. No matter how you look at this situation. I feel like karma is going to plague me for the rest of my life.”
“Hey,” Jack rolls into me, lying on his side beside me while I remain flat on my back, looking at my bedroom ceiling. “You are not the cause, Annie. You are a symptom, that’s all.”
I laugh lightly. “Come on, Jack. How many people do you honestly think will accept that? It’s a crock of shit. If you hadn’t found me at the bar that night, you would have remained in your marriage, happy or not. Right now, I am part of the reason. That’s the crux of it. I’m not going to kid myself that others won’t see it the same way if they find out about us.”
“I love you.” He grinds the three words through a frustrated jaw. “I left her before, remember? This isn’t about thinking the grass is greener, or being blindsided by great sex and excitement.” He reaches for my face and pulls it toward him so he has my eyes. “I’m not delusional, Annie. I’m head over heels. I don’t care what people think if they find out, but I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t. I need to keep you away from it.” Jack drops a light kiss on the edge of my mouth. “I have one shot on this earth. One life. I can’t see my days through to the end with someone who I’m not supposed to be with. I wish I’d met you fifteen years ago. But I didn’t. I can’t dwell on that.” His eyes cloud over as his thumb swipes slowly across my bottom lip, his gaze following its journey. “I just have to be thankful that you did eventually show up.” He slowly returns his eyes to mine, and I feel my bottom lip tremble under his thumb. “It’s you and me against the world, baby. Don’t give up, do you hear me?”
My face twists with sadness, my throat closing up on me, and I roll over, putting myself on his chest and burying my face in his neck, needing closeness and comfort…needing Jack. “I love you.” My voice shakes with so many emotions, and my body presses into his as far as I can get it. “I’ll hold your hand through this if you hold mine.”
“I’ll never let go, Annie. Not for anything.”
Chapter 21
I look over my shoulder when I hear Jack’s footsteps padding into the kitchen, finding him with his phone in his hand, spinning it slowly, thoughtfully. I dip a spoon in my fresh cup of coffee. He’s pulled his boxers on, but the sight I’d usually be rapt by is being overshadowed by the blankness of his expression. “Are you okay?” I ask, slowing my stirring.
“Stephanie’s father,” he says, holding up his phone. “I should be at his birthday celebrations beside my wife.” He smiles, but it’s strained. “Because God forbid anyone notices my absence and surmises what that might mean.”
Placing my spoon on the drainer, I take my coffee and turn toward him. “If you have to go…” I start, swallowing down the strength I need to say the words that I really don’t want to say. “Then…” It’s no good. I can’t tell him to go.
“I don’t want to go,” he says softly.
My smile is relieved but sad. “Okay,” I reply, not sure of what else to say. I don’t feel any sense of triumph that he’s choosing not to go. This isn’t a trivial he picked me over her situation.
“I don’t want to make assumptions, but I was hoping we coul
d do something.” Jack gives me hopeful eyes.
“Like what?” I ask. We hardly have the luxury of freedom to go where we please and do what we like.
“Like just be together.” He shrugs, almost embarrassed. “Watch trashy television, eat junk, be lazy.”
I smile. I don’t need to venture into public. Not when I can hide in here with Jack and smother him all day long. “I like that idea.”
“You do?” He smiles, too, bright and beautifully, and the knowledge that such a simple thing can make him so elated warms me soul-deep.
“I need to pop to the shop,” I tell him, swilling my mug in the sink. “I need milk.”
“And junk food,” he pipes up, his excitement growing. “Get some of those strawberry sweets. The big ones. Giant Strawbs. Lots of them! And how about I cook something?”
“You’re going to cook for me?” I ask, loving the sound of that. A man’s never cooked for me before. Not ever, and I love that Jack will be the first.
“Yes.” Jack heads for the drawers and starts pulling them open one by one. “I’ll write you a list. Where do you keep your pens and paper?”
“Here.” I reach to the shelf and pull down a pad, then go through my bag to find a pen. I hand them to him and he takes a seat, starting to write. I look over his shoulder, peeking down at his list. His long list. Beef stock? Corn flour? Crème fraiche? He’s cooking for me, and he’s cooking from scratch?
“Sherbet dip?” I ask, frowning.
“Yes.” He looks up at me. “You know the little pouches of sherbet that come with a strawberry lollypop inside? You lick and dip and when the lolly has gone, you lick your finger and shove it in to scoop out the sherbet.”
Oh God, he’s adorable. “Lick your finger and shove it in? Will that be dessert?”
His eyes try to narrow, but they’re glimmering too much. “I have something else in mind for dessert.”
He rips his list off the pad and hands it to me.
I take the paper and lean down, offering him my lips. “And what do I get in return for delivering all this sweet stuff?”
Placing his lips on mine, he grins. “I’m cooking you dinner, woman. What more could you want?”
“I’m sure I can think of something.”
His grin widens. “A sleepover?”
I recoil, a little surprised. “A sleepover?”
“She’s staying at her parents’.”
To fall asleep with him and to wake up with him? I push my lips to his hard, intending for it to be a forceful peck, but Jack soon turns it into more, pulling me down onto his lap and coaxing my mouth open with a few nudges of his tongue against my lips. I open up to him and lose myself in a few minutes of his mouth’s attention.
His groin flexes upward into my bum, making his hard-on known. “You’d better go before I take you back to the bedroom for some more affection.” He says it like that’s a problem. I hold on tighter to him, my way of telling him that I’m totally cool with that. “Come on.” He taps my bum and tries to usher me from his lap, ignoring my grumbles of protest.
“How about dessert now, dinner later?” I try, pushing my chest into his and nibbling at his ear, making a point to breathe heavily into it. I’m all worked up as a result of that smoldering kiss. He needs to take responsibility for the condition he has me in.
He laughs, forcing me to my feet. “Can I use your shower while you’re gone?”
“Sure,” I mutter moodily, making my way to my bedroom to throw on some clothes.
“You’re walking funny,” he calls, amused.
I ignore him and try to shrink the need that’s wedged itself between my thighs…making me walk like my knickers are up my arse.
* * *
After collecting everything on Jack’s shopping list, I make my way to the checkout. I quickly snatch some magazines from the nearby stand and toss them on the conveyor belt, as well as a chocolate bar, then head to the other end and start packing as the cashier rings it all through. After paying, I pull out a magazine, hang the bag from the crook of my arm, and start wandering home. I flick through the pages as I chew my chocolate, not looking where I’m going. The pages of the weekly gossip mag hold my attention, leaving everyone else to sidestep around me.
“Annie!”
I look up and see Lizzy jogging across the road, looking all sweaty in her running gear, her short hair tugged back in a haphazard ponytail, and a Frappuccino in her hand. I shove the magazine in my bag and chew rapidly as she makes it to me. “What’s with the sports getup?” I ask.
“Wine. That’s what. I either need to stop drinking it or try to counteract it. I must have gained eight pounds while me and Jason were split up.” She reaches forward and pulls the side of my bag open a little. “Been shopping?”
“Just some milk.”
“Milk and sweets?”
“I’m having a bumming day.”
“I thought you were at your mum and dad’s today.”
“Work took over.” I hope I look better than I feel when I lie, because I feel like a million bags of shite. “I have an exhibition next weekend in Liverpool.” Let’s get that in while I can. “Lots of prep.”
“Oh well.” She sounds as interested as I hoped she would: not interested at all. “Hey, come on, give me all the juicy details.” She starts jogging on the spot, grinning. “Are his thighs still as impressive?”
I straighten my lips and shake my head. “He’s nice, but—”
“Urghhhh,” she groans, dropping her head back in despair. “You’re a hard woman to please, Annie Ryan.”
My mouth forms a tight smile. That’s not true at all. I just want Jack. “How’s Jason?”
Her eyes sparkle, and I relish the sight. I just hope the twat doesn’t fuck up his chances. “He’s being so attentive and romantic. I know you guys are unsure, but he’s trying really hard.”
“Then I’m happy for you.”
“I know you are.” She kisses my cheek and starts toward the road. “Lunch tomorrow? Nat’s up for it.”
“Sure.”
“Call you in the morning!” Lizzy disappears around the corner, and I carry on my way home, ignoring the guilt rising after lying to my best mate. Again.
* * *
Jack’s waiting for me in the hallway when I walk through the front door, freshly showered and looking edible. His hair is wet and floppy, his scruff bordering…well, scruffy, and he’s back in his boxers. His eyes light up when he sees me, but instead of seizing me and saying hello, he swipes the bag from my hand and virtually shoves his head in, his big body on the verge of shaking with excitement. “What do I have to do to get a hello like that?” I ask, watching as he riffles through the bag.
He halts mid-rummage and looks up at me on a cute smile. If he didn’t look so adorable, I’d still have an indignant look on my face, but instead I’m smiling, too. “Is it sad that I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than veg out and eat crap with you?”
“That sounded poetic,” I laugh, kicking off my flip-flops.
He switches the bag to one hand before circling me and picking me up from behind with an arm curled around my waist. He carries me into the lounge. Or what was my lounge. Now it looks like it’s been set up for a glorified slumber party.
“I got everything ready,” Jack says, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll cook later. After we’ve watched a film.”
“Okay,” I agree, looking around. He’s dragged in all the pillows from my bedroom, along with the duvet, and pulled the throw and cushions down from the couch. My king-size bedcover is spread across the floor, the pillows propped up against the sofa and the cushions haphazardly spread around the sides. He’s drawn the curtains, making the room dusky and cozy, and turned the TV on, although the screen is paused. “Top Gun?” I ask, bemused.
“Shit, yeah.” Jack comes back in from the kitchen with his Giant Strawbs, takes my hand, and pulls me onto the covers. “Best film ever made.” He starts to strip me until he has me down to my
knickers. He wants jet planes and sweets.
I can do no more than let him do his thing and arrange me where he wants me, smiling the whole time. “Who did you want to be?”
“Iceman,” he answers immediately, not needing an elaboration on the question and not sensing the mockery in my tone. “You good?” He sits back on his haunches and looks at me propped up cozy on the cushions in my knickers.
“I’m good.”
“Good.” He grabs the remote, settles beside me, and starts shoving jelly strawberries into his mouth.
I shake my head on a smile as I lift his arm and crawl into his side, getting snuggly. I’m not going to deny it. This is some seriously enjoyable stuff.
I watch Top Gun for the first time in twenty years, but my head’s not totally in it. I’m listening to Jack munch, feeling his chest compress and decompress, and just generally relishing in our closeness. It’s a novelty to just…be. Every so often, half a jelly strawberry blocks my view of the screen, and I open up and let Jack slip it into my mouth until I’m stuffed and have to push his hand away. “I won’t eat whatever you’re going to cook me.” My eyes become heavy, my body naturally molds into his side, until the last thing I remember is Maverick and Goose rocking out to “Great Balls