Same time next week, p.6
Same Time Next Week, page 6
He laughed, long and hard. She was the best kind of funny, without trying to be.
"Your family lives here, in Orlando, right?"
"They do," he answered with a nod. "Real close, so that's another nice thing about being back here. My sister moved back after college and uh, my brother moved back last year. I'm the last kid to return to the roost, I guess. Even if it's only temporary."
Shelby drew her lips in, pressed them together and nodded. "So you will be going back to LA, eventually."
"Uhm... future," he answered, pointing at her with the neck of his bottle. She dipped her head and giggled. At that very moment, he wasn't at all sure that he'd be going back to LA. Who knew how Orlando would grow on him after a year? Not only was his family in Orlando, but his real, true, knew-him-before-he-was-a-big-shot friends were there. And Kyle and Jason, his closest friends from Boy Wonder still lived there and were thriving.
LA was great when you could keep up with the lifestyle, but he was in his thirties and already more mature than the general population. It was its own corner of the Universe, its own ecosystem and style and mode of living. He didn't have the energy for it anymore. The slow pace of Orlando, the even slower pace of quaint Winter Park, the lack of press and the feeling of more privacy in the last four days than he'd had in the last ten years was nice. He could get used to it. And it wasn't like LA wasn't a flight away if needed to get there in a hurry.
And then there was this intriguing sitting in front of him. She had potential, if he decided to stay.
A bold statement about unusual athletic ability led to a dart tournament in which Shelby beat him by a mile. He wasn't much into darts, but if he'd wanted to win, he could have. He wanted an excuse to stand behind her, checking out the sheer blouse she wore, imagining his hands up under it. Watching her hair swing and the line of her body as she threw dart after dart. And of course that perfect round ass. After three games, unfortunately, she was tired. They returned the dart set to the bartender and made their way to the door.
It was warm and the streets were busy, crawling with people going in and out of bars and clubs and shops and stores. They stood around the entrance for a few minutes making small talk, doing a lot of flirting. She didn't seem to want the date to be over either.
"So…are you hungry?" Girls always liked to eat. Especially if he was paying.
To his surprise, she shrugged. "Not really. I could go for dessert, though." For a second, he thought she was hinting and maybe he could ask her back to his place. Then he realized she meant actual dessert. Damn.
"Okay, so here's a warning. I can be a pig when it comes to dessert. Let me think about what's around here..." Again, he cursed the fact that he wasn't in LA. Sweet Love Hangover was the best post-date diner in Los Angeles. A familiar sign jutted out of a building a few blocks away. "Dessert Lady is down the street a ways. Her chocolate cake kicks ass."
Shelby's eyes brightened and she smiled a smile that, he couldn't help it, made his heart happy. She reached for him, running her fingers down his arm, her nails dragging along his bare skin until they reached his palm, then tucked her fingers between his. They stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds before she looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Lead the way," she said. God, her voice. She was a little hoarse after having to yell over music for a while. It gave her a perfect tone-smoky and sultry, not high and chirpy. Jackson swallowed, winding his fingers around hers and walking with her down the street, mindless conversation coming out of his mouth.
Filthy thoughts running through his head.
Shelby
The Dessert Lady was an eclectic store front with striped awnings over the windows and tables for two set up around the small space. At the front of the store, a glass case was lined with rows of pies from cherry to strawberry and cakes from pound cake to chocolate cake to coffeecake. Shelby's eyes lit up at the selection. Jackson was momentarily forgotten-she was lusting after the chocolate torte, sitting in the middle of the case.
"Have you had any of these before?"
"Did I mention I'm a pig? I have had all of these before. The chocolate torte is excellent, if you like chocolate."
She tossed him a sinful smile and licked her lips. "I do like chocolate."
"The Six Layer Cake is good, too... or the Oreo Cheesecake. I'm partial to the Peanut Butter Pie."
After a few minutes of crawling the dessert case and drooling over each selection, Shelby made her decision, nodding at the decadent layers of chocolate in the middle of the case. "That torte is calling my name."
Jackson ordered for the both of them and then, despite being alone in the store, pulled her toward a table near the window behind an oversized fringe curtain. The table was so small that their knees bumped under it.
"So, you've been in Orlando all of four days. What do you think of it?"
Shelby gulped from the glass of water set in front of her. Three beers and two shots made for a tipsy girl. She wanted all of her wits about her later on. "I like it. It's nice. I mean, a little frustrating at times, but at least it's quiet. I feel like I don't get a moment's peace in Miami. The city never sleeps. That gets tiring after a while. So, yeah, it's nice. Winter Park is a small town."
"Whereabouts in Winter Park do you live? I mean, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Off of Park, near the community college."
He nodded, grinning. "I know the area. I'm not too far from there. I have a place on Lake Virginia. How weird that we live so close to each other."
She smirked, giving her head a little tilt. "Well, not really. We met at the neighborhood grocery store. It's not like I drove from Melbourne to shop at the Winter Park Publix."
Jackson smirked, narrowing his eyes, mouthing a playful smartass across the table. He was delightful. So funny and laid back. And cute. And so sexy. Every time he smiled at her, her stomach lurched and she throbbed. Everywhere.
Ask me already! I don't want to go home tonight. How many more clues do I need to send??!
"Here we are," said the server, a short woman dressed in white. "Peanut butter pie and chocolate torte. Enjoy." She slid two plates and two forks onto the table and left a stack of napkins.
"That looks so good," she said, eyeing his plate, stacked high with a peanut butter-chocolate concoction.
"It is. Haven't had it in a long time." He sliced off a chunk and slid it into his mouth, his eyes closing as he chewed, a few light moans coming from his throat.
Shelby laughed at his dramatics. "You look like you're about to come."
He laughed, almost shooting peanut butter and chocolate out of his mouth. "Not yet," he said, wiggling a brow at her while shoving another forkful in his mouth. "It is good though. Want to try some?"
"I'd love a taste."
Jackson picked up his fork again, but she stopped him with a touch of her hand, shaking her head slowly, a hint of a smile on her lips, hoping he would catch her hint. "Not… that way..."
He blinked and then, springing into action, reached under the table to grab a rung of her chair and slide her around so she was sitting next to him. Wasting no time at all, he leaned in, tilting his head toward her. She met him halfway, mouth open, eyes closed, heart racing.
His tongue rasped across hers, over and under and around, swirling, spreading the sweet taste of peanut butter and chocolate with it. His lips were soft, brushing against hers over and over, light as air. Shelby fought herself every second, trying not to push the table back and climb onto his lap, sort of grateful he hadn't touched more than her lips. She was already on the edge and over the point of no return.
He pulled back, his eyes dark and hooded, but his expression gentle. "How was it?" he mumbled, his face still so close to hers.
"Delicious," she answered, grinning, licking residual peanut butter taste off of her lips. Trying not to pant. "And the pie wasn't half bad either."
"Thank you. I enjoyed that myself."
"Good. It's uhm... rich. The Peanut Butter Pie."
"Yeah, it is. That's why I like it. Lots of flavor."
He stared at her, blinking every few seconds. She stared back, bold. Refusing to look away and pretend she was shy, despite how... intense his stare was.
"So, uhm. Are you... are you tired, or..."
"Not at all."
He cleared his throat and swallowed again. "I was thinking we could go someplace a little more private."
"Oh? Where would this place be?"
His tongue flicked out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. He reached for his water glass and sucked down half of it. Shelby's eyes never left his face. He laughed, finally, his gaze returning to hers.
"Why are you making this so hard on me?"
She giggled, caught in the act. "Because you already know the answer."
"I do?"
She gave him a knowing come on, now glance. "How many times am I going to hear Jackson Sweeney ask me to go home with him?"
The smile faded, slowly. His eyes dropped to her lips and he kissed her again, this time more forceful and passionate, deep breaths through his nose, his lips pressing hard against hers, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, almost fighting with hers. He grabbed the back of her head and held her against him, against his mouth while he kissed her. It was the hottest kiss she'd ever had. Ever.
He ended the kiss and before his eyes even opened, said, "Come home with me."
"Yes," she said, her voice no higher than a whisper. "We should get our dessert to go. I'll want to taste this later."
He leaned in to her, his lips almost touching her ear. "I'll want to taste it later, too."
Shelby stood so fast, she nearly knocked the chair over. She'd had to calm herself as they left the store, to go boxes in hand. Jackson was in a hurry, pulling her down Church Street, then crossing the street and walking toward his car. The lights flashed and the door lock clicked with a mechanical sound.
"Shouldn't I follow you in my car?"
"Nah," he said, swinging the passenger side door open. "Hop in. I'll bring you back." He all but pushed her into the car and shut the door as soon as she was inside, then walked around and got in on the driver's side.
"Okay, Jackson?" Shelby laid a hand on his arm. She understood his pain... really, she did. But this rush job wasn't sexy and was ruining the mood. "Relax. This is happening. I'm not a tease. You don't have to rush. Take your time."
Jackson exhaled, blowing out a long, slow breath. He laid a hand over hers and squeezed. "Sorry. I'm... I want to do this. Like, yesterday."
"I know. I want that, too. But slow down a little. Be gentle. For now." She teased him, scraping a fingernail lightly down his arm. He groaned and squirmed in the seat, shoving the key into the ignition and jamming the START button. The engine roared to life.
"Lady..." Jackson heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes upward. "You've been killing me, all night long. I can't wait to get you home." He grabbed her hand and shoved it between his thighs, wrapping her fingers around the hard mass curled up in the front of his jeans.
"Don't even think about moving that."
Chapter 10
Shelby
Shelby mused while luscious leather hugged her hips and music poured from the speakers, enveloping the car in a sultry aura. There was never any question that she was going to go home with him. Everything she wore, all of her pre-date preparations were for the explicit purpose of him seeing her and being with her in the most intimate way possible. She'd tried to pretend it wasn't happening... all the while shaving and pruning and sprucing, drinking juice and eating fruit and doing yoga for relaxation. Her skin was smooth and supple and lightly perfumed, on purpose. Her lingerie was thin and frilly and barely there, on purpose. Her mind was on the evening, her body preparing itself for pure enjoyment. On purpose.
Jackson slowed as he drove the two lane road through a neighborhood of upscale homes. The moon glowed in the sky above, bright and full, reflecting in the waters below. The lake itself was still except for a ripple or two that sped along the surface and then lapped at the shore. Toward the end of the block, Jackson slowed further and turned into a driveway, waited for the wide door to slide open and then drove into the garage. The light popped on as soon the door opened, revealing a slightly messy collection of tools, garden utensils and boxes stored above the garage space.
"So, we're here," Jackson said, opening his door and climbing out of the car. Shelby followed suit, meeting him at the door while he fumbled with his keys in the lock. "Nervous," he said simply, tossing back a grin at her, then finally inserting the key and opening the door. An alarm beeped. His thick fingers deftly punched a code into a keypad on the wall.
"This is it. This is home."
With one arm he waved around the bright, spacious kitchen as they walked through it. Shelby noticed that she and Jackson had the same style and color of cabinets. The similarities ended there–her floors were ceramic tile and wood; his were laminate. His appliances were a pristine white, hers were stainless steel. And while his house backed up to a dock that led to Lake Virginia, she had a small pool and hot tub in her backyard off of the deck.
Jackson walked under the arch of a door way into a darkened room. Seconds later the room was illuminated with the soft glow of two lamps. A large sectional couch and two La-Z-Boy chairs pointed toward an enormous flat screen TV mounted on the wall above a stone fireplace. The room was cozy and laid back, very comfortable. Shelby already felt at home, dropping onto the couch and sitting back, way back against the plush cushions.
Jackson removed the button down shirt he'd worn over his t-shirt, then his shoes, then emptied his pockets onto a side table between the couch and a recliner: wallet, keys, phone, breath mints. He picked up one of several remotes lined up on the table and turned on the TV.
"Make yourself at home. I put some wine in the chiller earlier. Can I interest you in some? Or a beer, or some water, or whatever?"
"Wine would be great if it's red."
He smiled. "It's red. Be right back."
He ducked under the arch again, then reappeared holding two wine glasses and two forks. "In case you want to eat your dessert," he said, nodding toward the two white boxes sitting in the center of the table.
They drank their wine, sip after sweet sip and shared the chocolate torte, bite after sweet bite and talked while slow jams crooned in the background. Leisurely and relaxed, exactly as Shelby had requested. Things were calm but not cold, their conversation lending to ebbs and flows of flirtation and romantic gestures and downright scintillation.
"Mmmm..." Shelby purred, licking the last bit of chocolate off of her fork and tossing it into the box. "That was delicious. Great suggestion. I'll have to remember The Dessert Lady."
"My pleasure. I mean that. Watching you eat is amazing."
"What? Do I eat weird?"
"No, no. Not at all. The way you lick your lips and the sounds you make. It's a turn on."
"Is it, really? Or are you horny?"
Jackson paused for a beat, blinked and said, "Probably a little of both."
"Probably," Shelby agreed, with a giggle. "I can probably help you with that."
"Probably," Jackson mimicked, hoisting himself up and sliding over on the couch, right up next to her. "Are you okay? Is this... am I moving too fast?"
"Hmm mmm..." she hummed, turning toward him, tucking one leg under the other. "You're fine. You're fine."
"Well then, get comfortable, honey. You're not going anywhere for a while. Take your clothes off." He laughed, tapping her on the arm. "I mean... take your shoes off."
Shelby laughed, slipping off the low heeled pumps and setting them next to the couch, stretching her toes. "Shoes are off. Clothes to follow."
"I think you should leave that to me."
"Done."
"I think you should let me kiss you. I bet you taste good. Like chocolate and wine."
"I bet I do."
"I think you should let me taste you. I bet you taste good, too."
"I bet I do."
"I think you should–"
"I think you should kiss me already." Shelby grabbed his chin and pulled him to her. His lips landed on hers with a muffled mmmph, then a groan from deep in his throat as their tongues met in a hot, wet swirl. She whimpered and whined, the fire in her belly building again, streaks of white lightning rippling through her.
"Mmmm... you're good at that," she whispered, sitting up a little so she could get closer.
"I try," he mumbled before claiming her lips again. He reached for her, running a hand from her hip to her thigh, then hooking behind her knee and pulling her leg over his, further and further until she was right up against him. He turned on the couch, so she was on his lap. She felt him, hard and hot and pressed right up against her. She almost teared up at the sensation, her hands shaking, finding it a little hard to breathe.
"I wish I could tell you how good you feel, up against me. How much I want to grind into you. Bad, really bad, that's how much."
"I can see it in your face. You don't have to hold back with me. Let it go, if you want."
How kind of him to think she was afraid, or she was holding back and to try to comfort her. Neither assumption could be further from the truth.
"Without talking about the past," she mumbled into his mouth, onto his lips. God, his mouth. "I'm not wasting anything on a dry romp on the couch." She pulled back and grabbed his face, stared straight into his eyes. "I want you inside me when I come."
He gulped. And then grinned. "Aw, shit. It's about to be on. Let me know when you want that."
"I wanted it yesterday. So take your time. There's more of me that I want you to see before we get there."
Jackson laughed that sexy, dirty, throaty laugh. She loved it, especially when he was right up against her neck and he was licking her skin and his breath was hot and goose bumps were flying. His hands were restless, steadily moving from her back where the heat seared her skin through the sheer fabric, to the generous cheeks in tight jeans. They moved down over her hips and her thighs, down her legs to her feet tucked under her. She was a little ticklish, he found, making a game out of getting her to laugh while holding her mouth hostage.
