Chapter 1
“Close your mouth, Rosie. You’re going to catch flies.” Jackson grinned at me as he lowered me to the ground. I pulled my dress down and stared at him blankly. I felt like I was floating in some alternate reality. There were too many emotions coursing through me for me to think straight.
I’d literally been fucked senseless.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” I panted.
“Why not? That’s what we have, right?”
“What do you mean, that’s what we have?”
“Hot sex.” He shrugged as he zipped himself up. “And that was pretty hot.”
“I guess,” I murmured, distracted. I still couldn’t get the image of James and Patrick out of my mind. Had I been hallucinating or had I actually seen them?
“Hey, Rosie.” Jackson’s voice was hoarse. “What are you thinking about?”
“Sorry. I just thought I saw someone I knew.” I was unnerved by the two men I’d just seen, and I was unnerved by the way Jackson was acting.
“Oh, who?” He was trying too hard to sound too nonchalant. The hairs on my arm rose.
“Um, I don’t think I have to tell you that.”
“Well, if you want to ask me questions, can’t I ask you questions?”
“You haven’t actually answered any of my questions yet,” I pointed out. I wasn’t going to play this game with him. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
“Touché. So you want to go in and get a drink … or are you meeting someone here?” His eyes narrowed as he asked the question.
“Not here to meet anyone. We can go in,” I muttered. I knew the coast was clear because I knew Patrick had left the bar. “Let’s go and have a drink.”
“Okay.”
He grabbed my hand, and I repressed a flinch of surprise. This was much more intimate than I’d expected. We weren’t the sort of people that held hands. In fact, this was the first time we’d ever gone anywhere together. Except for when we first met at the train station, this was the first time I’d seen him out of the hotel room. It felt weird knowing he existed in the big wide world.
I tugged my hand away from his. Just because we’d been intimate didn’t mean I was going to trust him or accept his bullshit. “How did you know where I was?” I asked again, wondering if the story would change.
“I already told you that, Rosie,” he said as we stopped outside the door. “I saw when you left your house, and I followed you here.”
“How do you know where I live?”
“Once I knew your name, it was very easy to find out where you live.” His lips curled. “That’s a stupid question.”
I ignored his diss. I had a feeling he was trying to sidetrack me from my line of questioning, but my father had been telling me I was stupid since I was a kid. Jackson’s words meant nothing to me. “So how did you find out my name?”
He took a deep sigh and shook his head. “I think you’re going to want to have a drink for that one.”
“Okay.”
The bar was packed. Maybe this wasn’t a good decision—this didn’t seem like the best place to have a private conversation. “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” I suggested.
“No, we’re here now. Let’s get that drink.” Jackson pulled me towards the bar and I followed him, squeezing through the drunk, boisterous crowd. I was too sober for this shit.
I felt a sharp pinch on my bottom and squealed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I said as spun around.
Jackson stopped and stared at me. “Sorry, what?”
“I wasn’t talking to you. That guy pinched my ass!” I pointed at an older man with a long grey ponytail wearing a faded black Bob Dylan t-shirt and a Red Sox cap.
“When you got on a short skirt like that, you want your ass to be pinched,” the Willie Nelson lookalike laughed.
Jackson let go of my hand, pushed past me, and stood in front of the guy. “Don’t pinch my girl’s ass again. Apologize.”
“Who the fuck are you?” the old guy said, not quite realizing what he was up against. I guess alcohol will do that to you, make you braver and dumber.
“I said, do not touch her again and you need to apologize. Do you hear me now?” Jackson grabbed the guy by the throat and lifted him up. I swallowed hard. I knew he was strong. I mean, he had muscles for days, but that strong? I was scared that he was going to break the guy’s neck or something.
“Jackson, it’s okay.” I touched him on the shoulder. “Please.”
“He’ll apologize to you first,” he growled in response.
It struck me just how much brutal force he had. Jackson wasn’t a guy to be fucked with. I trembled as I thought about his muscular body on top of mine, dominating me, taking what he wanted. Shit, why was I so turned on? This was not a situation where I should be feeling horny, but as I stared at the muscles rippling beneath his shirt, I couldn’t deny the warmth that was stealing over me. Jackson was hot. Really, really hot.
The old guy was sputtering as he came back down to the ground. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. I was just joking around.” He gave me his toothless smile and I repressed a shudder. “I was just appreciating you and your little short ...” He paused as Jackson glared at him. “Sorry.” He stepped back. “Won’t happen again. Promise.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jackson said. He grabbed my hand and we continued walking to the bar. The people in front of us moved to the side to let us through as if they were nervous Jackson would lift them up as well.
I can’t lie; I loved how people reacted to him.
I should let you know that I don’t think violence is the answer to anything. And yes, I am the girl that had her ex-boyfriend beaten up after he cheated. But I don’t really think violence is the answer to most problems. I had Joey beaten up because I was devastated and heartbroken, but it’s not how I live my life. I’m not into boxing or wrestling, and I’d never really been attracted to men with big muscles, but what Jackson had just done had been hot.
I’d never had a guy stick up for me like that. Jackson was the ultimate alpha male. I felt protected and safe around him, and for a few seconds, I felt loved, which was stupid because there was no part of Jackson that loved any part of me. I was just his booty call.
And to be fair, he was my booty call as well. My very hot and very well hung booty call. I didn’t need more than that. There was no such thing as true love and happily ever after anyway, and at least we were honest with each other about what we had and what we wanted. We didn’t need to pretend it was anything more.
“What do you want to drink?” Jackson asked as we got to the bar.
Of course, he had no idea what I’d liked. We’d never had a drink together before. We’d never gone to restaurants. We’d never gone to a bar. We’d never even gone on a date. This man who knew me so intimately, this man who’d had his tongue in my ass, didn’t even know what I liked to drink.
I smiled to myself.
“What do you think I like to drink?” I said playfully. “Let’s see if you can guess.”