Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

CHAPTER 20

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Jack pulled his kiss from its current local, inside my blouse that one of us had unbuttoned, and the tiny area hard from the heat of his mouth, remained hard when the air cooled it. Jack promptly cupped his hand warmly over it, playing a different game and brought his lips to mine,

“So when is Tristan's next Tylenol dose?”

“Why?” I managed, despite the current tug of his fingers.

“You know why...” The question was a hot breath in my ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Thought you liked it better by yourself.” Brazenly, I provoked, still offended by his actions the previous night, despite all that had gone down so far tonight.

“The hell,” His growl was immediate and my lips curved.

“You are an ass for doing that last night...” My words were airy, but his response was not.

His motions stilled and he locked his gaze onto mine, “No, you are. What you did last night was bitchy beyond belief.”

There it was. He WAS mad. Maybe some part of him had tried to be understanding when I walked out the door, or maybe he had never been. But ultimately he was mad.

“You mean going out? I didn't think you would care...”

“No, you were testing to see if I cared. At least that's what it felt like. And I do care. Do you know how hard it was to play with our son like nothing was wrong while you were out with some douche?”

Hot fury blazed in eyes which only minutes ago were blazing with hot desire and I revised last night's assessment of failed 'Phase One.' It was looking like it had carried off better than I hoped. I didn't like him being mad at me, and yet it was titillating to find that he was. Not sure where to go from here, I simply let my feelings lead.

“Probably about as hard as the shoe on the other foot,” My mumble was intelligible enough to catch his attention.

“What are you talking about?”

“You partying in LA while I'm sitting around here with our sick kid.” The words were part of the plan at some point, but to actually say them broke my voice.

“Momma, Mom Mom, Mooommma!” The growling chant began.

Steadfast, Jack's gaze never left my face, and he incredulously denied, “I wasn't!”

His indignant astonishment threw me, and again I contemplated the internet picture and what it portrayed. “It seemed like you were. Creeping around with your ex and all!”

“My ex?!”

“The 'lingerina,'” Then, when he continued to blankly stare at the made up word, I huffed with all the haughtiness of Tristan when he had to explain himself, “The underwear model!”

His laughter was abrupt, and just as abruptly it cut the moment the mirth provoked a scowl on my face. Carefully, he replied, “I'm not dating her, never have.”

“Momma!” Tristan was no longer practicing the screamo growl and I knew the water must have cooled, and the bubbles evaporated.

Swinging my feet off the couch, I sprinted to the bathroom, wrapping him in a towel and helping him with his pajamas. Directing him to bed, I promised to send in Bally, and also that Jack would be in to say goodnight.

“But, do I get a snack?”

Containing my aggravation at the timing, I replied, “Of course, sweetheart.” And a big dose of Tylenol, I crazily thought. Because, this discussion with Jack, no matter how it progressed, was ending with phase two; of that, I was determined.