Same time next week, p.15
Same Time Next Week, page 15
Shelby was entirely confusing and yet captivating. Frustrating but endearing and sexy and wonderful but so fucking mysterious. She drove him crazy, both his mind and his heart. And throw his dick in there, too. He only had to think about her before it started to suck all the blood from his body and sense from his mind.
He should have left. In the end, he didn't and he was happy about that, because no sooner had they hit the bedroom than Shelby was on the attack, pushing him up against the wall, tearing the towels from his waist and hers, stretching up on her toes to meet his lips and kissing him, hard. To make matters worse...or... better, she cocked one leg up on his hip and ground herself against him.
When he could get a lip free and take a breath, he pulled back to take in the view of her. She was stunning in that swim suit. It hit her in every right place and oh, there were so many right places… from the swell of her breasts to her slender waist to her womanly hips and perfectly round ass sitting on top of legs he had only dreamt about before.
So yeah, he didn't leave.
"Do you wanna take this off?" She lifted her arms above her head and stood in front of him, expectant. Since she was offering, he did it for her, pulling the skimpy swimsuit top over her head.
"Always available to lend a helping hand, ma'am."
"Thank you sir," she said, stepping out of the wet bottoms and tossing them toward the bathroom, along with the top. "I seem to be naked," she teased. "Hmmm. I've noticed you appear to still have clothes on. Do you require assistance?"
In a flash, he matched her nakedness, his briefs joining her swimsuit in the bathroom. "Somethin' to think about tomorrow," he said, bending to kiss her, capturing her mouth and dueling with her tongue. She laughed, stepping backward, feeling her way toward the bed and climbed up, without breaking the kiss.
"You're so talented," he said, in a break that was only a few seconds long before his lips were on her again. She hummed in agreement, sighing into his mouth as he sank onto her.
Who was he kidding? He was never leaving. He had been craving her for days on end, trying hard to hide the staring into space and the happy grin from Rod and the other guys. Trying not to whistle, especially because, according to Rod, he only whistled when he was getting regular sex and he had noticed that he was a nonstop teakettle lately. She consumed his thoughts day and night and nothing satisfied a longing or a craving for her but her.
Jackson felt a weight lift off of his shoulders as soon as he sank onto her. She felt so familiar, by now. He knew every winding turn of her curves, every nook and cranny. He especially liked the crannies, one in particular that he was getting a lot of pleasure out of stroking. She was hot and wet and tight around one and then two and then three fingers. Her hips were moving so seductively, so wildly. Shelby was so openly sexy, so unashamed. He loved that about her.
As he lowered his head to a breast, flicking over a nipple, watching it grow hard as he blew on it, smiling at her moaning and crying out and the dirty, nasty phrases she was grunting into the air, he tried to make his mind skip over that ‘L' thing. He did not just think that he loved her. He thought that he loved something about her. He wasn't in love with her. He hardly knew her.
That argument wasn't going to work for very long. And that ‘L' thing couldn't stick around, not with Shelby keeping things so very casual. He was going to have to come up with something to keep himself from falling in love with her.
At the moment, though he was distracted from that ‘L' thing by Shelby grabbing at his hair, clawing at his back as he moved his fingers in and out of her like a piston, pressing on her clit like no tomorrow and making small, slow rotations–as best he could, because she was all the way up off of the bed, screaming at the top of her lungs for him to fuck her.
So he did. She was so wet and ready and on the edge that he slid right in, all the way, right away, bringing Shelby to a wild, thrashing orgasm in a matter of strokes. He mentally congratulated himself while he kept moving above her, working toward his own climax.
"Wait!" Shelby sat bolt upright, pushing wild hair back from her face, glistening with sweat. "Hold on. Wait."
He stopped and sat up, worried that he'd hurt her. Things could get a little wild... maybe he didn't know his own strength, or something. "What? What's wrong?"
Shelby stared up at him, mischief in her eyes. "What's your favorite position?"
He blinked, poised above her, getting harder and more frustrated by the second, needing a warm wet hole to bury into. "Shelby.... I like a lot of them. I especially like the one we were in. Why?"
"Pick one and I'll do it. Any one. Pick one that'll make you come so hard you see stars."
"Uh..." He couldn't even think. Pretty much if she touched him, right that second, he would come hard. The decision didn't even have to be all that involved.
"From the back? You like that, right?"
Jackson sighed, trying to remain patient. She had to have some kind of... point. At least he hoped she did. "Honey, I don't care if you're hanging from the ceiling when I do it. You're killing me, right now."
A glimmer. An evil little glint. He saw it in her eyes. And then a smile. She turned over, set herself up on her hands and knees and shook her ass at him. "Then stick it in and go to town, baby."
He swore he felt a sigh as he sank into her again. And then he remembered why she asked if he wanted to do it this way. He growled, something low and guttural and erotic and sexy, gripping her hips, holding her where he wanted her, working the way she liked it, around and around and then hard thrusts, slamming against her until she was pushing back against him, her voice a high pitched yelp as she came again. A fierce series of clenches and convulsions teased him until he was pushing into her, deep into her over and over until he was losing his breath and starting to see stars and coming so very hard.
Shelby coughed and panted, catching her breath, her legs giving out under her as she laid flat on the bed. He laid on top of her.
"Aren't you... shit... aren't you glad I asked?"
He couldn't think. He could hardly breathe. "Damn, woman. Really, what are you doing for the rest of your life?"
"Future," she said, her eyes closed, rib cage expanding with her deep breaths.
"Right." He rolled his eyes at the reminder that he could know no more about her than he already knew. "Got it. But I think there's chocolate cake in our immediate future. What do you think?"
It pleased him to see a tired smile crawl the half of her face he could see. She liked chocolate cake.
Chapter 19
Shelby
"You're kidding me. They couldn't put that on any other night?"
"I'm not kidding. And we're booked every single night this week, with rehearsals and press. The new single is out Tuesday, the new album is coming along pretty quickly. Tour'll be here before we know it."
Shelby paced her kitchen from one end to the other, cursing under her breath, tempted to throw the phone across the room. Rod and the band and, apparently, Jackson had some kind of engagement coming up that week. Some thing where they had to show off the new single being premiered the following week and rub elbows and shake hands and pretend they cared what people thought.
On Thursday. Their date night.
Shelby had worked so hard to plan around Thursday nights with her classes, her shifts at Antigua and everything else she had going on with her new life in Orlando. Every other night of the week was packed full of the things she didn't want to do on Thursdays. And now her Thursday night was dry as a bone.
"So, what time do these things usually end?"
"They can go all night if you want them to, but here's part two of the bad news. We have a photo shoot and a morning show radio interview the next morning. I wouldn't have been able to stay, anyway."
"I could have come over." She sighed heavily, putting on her saddest voice. "I know I sound spoiled. Because I am!"
"I know," he said, laughing at her tantrum. "I'm the one that spoiled you."
"It's not funny. You're a habit. I'll feel all... out of place."
"I'm feeling your pain. I'm pissed about it, but there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry."
"I know." She pouted, leaning forward onto the counter, wearing one of his t-shirts. The day was already warm and it was only 10 AM. "I better get in the shower, I guess. I have to go serve alcohol to people in the middle of the day."
"Enjoy that shower."
Shelby chuckled that low, sexy laugh he liked. 10 AM or 10 PM, it got him every time. "I'll think about you, when I'm in there."
"Yeah?"
"Mmmhmm...."
"What... uhm... what are you gonna be thinking about?"
"Wouldn't you like to know? It's a guarantee that certain parts of your anatomy will be running through my mind. It'll be hot and it'll be awesome and I'll tell you about it Thursd-oooohhhh. I won't see you Thursday! Damn!"
Jackson swore under his breath, almost growling. It sounded even more menacing over the phone line. "You're a fucking tease. That's what you are. You know that, right?"
She laughed, an evil cackle coming from deep in her throat. "Yeah. I actually work hard at it. Have fun this week, I guess. I'll see you soon, I'm sure."
"Maybe I can carve some time out this week, or sneak away early from something. I can't go a week without you. I'll explode."
"And not in the good way. I gotta go, love. Shower time!"
She ended the call and turned the phone off, bouncing to the shower, laughing all the way. She was still pissed, but her plan was set in motion. If she knew him at all, and she had a pretty good grasp on him by that point, he would find a way to work it out.
Jackson
"Shelby! Shel…fuck!" She'd hung up. Fucking tease.
Jackson tossed the phone to the edge of the bed and lay there, enjoying the last few minutes of peace before he had to get up and get moving. Early rehearsal to make up for the time they were losing Thursday.
He hated Rod's manager. Thursday’s event was nothing more than glad-handing and grandstanding, smiling and shaking hands and uttering phrases like "we're excited about this new record." Blah blah blah.
The promo machine was already huffing, waiting to rev its engine. From now until the album release, promotion would be his middle name. And because this album was being touted as such a big event, masterminded and orchestrated by him, all eyes, ears, microphones and cameras would be on him.
Great. Just when I don't need attention.
Jackson tilted his head up to look at the time on the new clock radio that sat on the nightstand. He had finally replaced the one that he'd smashed against the wall within days of arriving in Orlando. 10:30. He didn't even have to be up and out of bed until 11 o'clock, 11:30 if he wasn't showering. Which was gross, but if you were lazy and didn't want to get out of bed until the very last second...
"I can't believe I'm missing Shelby on Thursday. Gonna be in pain by the end of the week."
As if in agreement, his dick stirred and twitched in his briefs. Checking the time again, Jackson slid a hand down under the band, closing his eyes, picturing her in the shower. Visualizing her body, slick…wet… soft, wishing he was there with her, soaping up that bath puff thing she used with that shower gel, the kind he liked that smelled good.
A moan rose from his throat, forced its way out of his mouth as he pushed the briefs down his hips and kicked out of them, tossing the sheet back as well, his dick standing tall and proud for him. His chest tightened with the breaths he wasn't taking, but he couldn't spare a single drop of energy, concentrating all of his effort through his arm, around his dick, rubbing so fast and so hard he thought he might start a fire. Just as he felt like he might pass out, that tingling, euphoric feeling overtook him and he stroked through an intense climax, making a mess of the sheets. Finally, he was able to breathe but only after a hard, loud, guttural grunt.
Panting, heaving, lightheaded, he fell back against the mattress. Sweating. Who sweats from masturbating?
Not even close to satisfied, Jackson rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the shower. He was going to have to work something out about Thursday. No way was he going without her.
Chapter 20
Shelby
Bored. Bored, bored, bored. Shelby lay on her back, on the couch in the den, her legs hanging over the arm, staring at the dust on the overhead fan, listening to the TV drone on and on. Something was on... she wasn't paying attention to it. It was boring. She was bored.
She had run out of things to do to distract her from the fact that it was Thursday and she wasn't with Jackson. This part of the day was normally spent trying to get things done so she could concentrate on him later–cleaning up, going shopping or to the salon if she needed to, getting a little ahead on her business class, which was turning out to be interesting.
Her shifts at Antigua were to get her back in the business, back in bartender mode. The classes, she hoped, would give her insight into opening her own bar, running her own show. The thought excited her, made her heart go pitter-patter. It was the first thing, besides Jackson, that she'd been excited about in a long time.
She had already read ahead in her course materials, though. Studied for the exam the next week. She knew the subject matter backward and forward. The house sparkled, even the garage was clean and organized and the lawn was clipped and the pool was clean. The last of her boxes had long since been unpacked, her media organized by genre and then alphabetized by title.
Shelby rolled her head toward the TV, trying to remember what was on, what she was watching. It must have gone off, because she'd never in her life seen That 70's Show. She let it distract her for a few minutes, laughing at the fashion and the humorous one-liners until it went off and something else came on. She reached for the remote and snapped it off. The house was silent. Too silent.
"I could go out," she thought. "Hang out somewhere. Have some drinks. Relax. Remember this feeling of being by myself, having my own life, doing my own thing." It was not a bad idea. Not the thing she wanted to be doing, but not a bad idea.
Shelby hopped into the shower for a few minutes, psyching herself up for going out alone. Her body was conditioned, accustomed to a certain schedule. She felt a little off, like there were things she was supposed to be doing, but she wasn't. Maybe a trip out of the house would take her mind off of those things. And pass some time. For sure, she probably wouldn't sleep that night.
She tossed on some clothes, a t-shirt, some jeans, slip on sandals. She needed a jacket in case she ended up by the water, which was always a little cooler than being in the city. Her fingers brushed across something soft. She grabbed at it, pulling it out, a familiar scent woven into its fibers. One of Jackson's hoodies had somehow been mixed up with her laundry. She smiled at it and sniffed it, catching his scent. She pulled it on and zipped it up, rolling up the sleeves. It was way too big on her, but she felt warm and comforted by it.
She got into the car, pulled out of the garage and onto the road, headed toward Orlando, listening to the pop station on the radio. One of Rod's older songs was playing. She turned it up, singing along, smiling. She drove and drove, windows down, a breeze blowing through the car, music on. Past nightclubs and bars and watering holes.
Nothing sounded good. Jackson would have a place in mind and she would meet him there, or they'd go together. He'd give her some history on the place, or talk about a memory he had of the first time he went there, or when one of his friends got drunk and did something stupid there, and that's why he liked or remembered it. They'd walk in, hand in hand, bold as anything despite his face being a familiar one, especially around Orlando. Sometimes people recognized him. Most of the time, people walked right by or gave a smile and a wave. He'd smile back, wave back, nod back and go on with life. So unassuming and not celebrity.
He was never too good for a dive bar or a six inch Subway sandwich. He ate a turkey and Swiss the same way he ate a parmesan crusted sea bass. Shelby had no idea what living in LA was like, but it was puzzling to think that he would go back to being stalked. It seemed like things in Orlando moved at a much slower pace and people were way more laid back.
After dinner, they would hit up Dessert Lady or some other place where they served decadent and delicious food. Sometimes they would eat in, have coffee or wine and sit and talk and stare into each other's eyes. Putting off the evening on purpose. Dragging it out. Teasing each other.
That was the part she liked the most. He knew how to make her feel wanted without having to say it, by the way he looked at her, the way he let his eyes dip to parts of her body and slowly climb back up to her face, her smile. It was in the way he would grab her and pull her up against him, or stand behind her and press himself into her. Knowing what she was doing to him was the best turn on, ever. She'd never met a man like him, so confident in himself but not cocky. The expectation was always there but she never felt like she should feel lucky he chose her.
That was the difference between Jackson and Rod Phillips, she imagined. Girls with Rod were probably made to feel like if they didn't fuck him, they'd be ruined for life. Or at least for another celebrity. Some of those girls made a living out of making the rounds. Shelby shuddered at the thought. Jackson was more than enough for her.
Shelby was still driving and hadn't found anything she wanted to do, or anywhere she wanted to go. She pulled into a coffee shop off of International. Maybe a hot cup of coffee or cocoa, some relaxation and a few minutes of quiet time would do her some good.
The tinny sound of a bell tinkled overhead as the door swung open and she stepped inside. The shop was about half full, mostly with younger people taking up the tables on one side of the place, texts open, paper coffee cups scattered about, heads in hands and eyes on notebooks. The college crowd.
A perky girl with a green apron stood behind the counter, smiling too wide, like she'd had one too many Frappuccino's and was all hopped up on caffeine. Shelby ordered a latte with whipped cream and a slice of cake, sliding a $10 bill across the counter.
