Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

PART TWO~CHAPTER : 6

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I returned from a quick rinse in the shower to find the lamp still on and Jack still wide awake with his hands clasped behind his head. His eyes were in a vacant stare toward the high ceiling. Immediately, I hugged up against him. Viewing the digits on his docked phone, I mentally calculated the latest logical time to move from his room to avoid Tristan finding us together.

“Mariss?” My name rolled off of his tongue into my hair.

“Mmh?” My lips went to his shoulder, an automatic response to hearing his version of my name.

“Why don't you ever let go? Completely?”

The question was so unexpected and ambiguous that I raised my head, and when I did, he propped on an elbow to better see my face.

“Let go of what?” I returned while my brain spun in search of any possibility.

“The first time. In the bus. Never has it been that real, never that real with anyone else. I couldn't stop thinking about you. There is something different now and I wish I could fix it for you.”

My breath hitched for two opposite reasons. First, my heart, dry for so long, soaked up any of his sweet words. Yet, did he just allude that the present sex between us had not been as good for him when compared to the past?

“What do you mean?” Not able to look him in the eye, I studied chocolate brown sheets the shade of his eyes .

His thumb brushed at my bottom lip and in that way I was becoming accustomed to, he brushed his lips to mine kissing away whatever hurt he might have seen in my eyes.

“I just mean you always seem to be stopping things before you have any real fun...”

My mind contemplated these words as they floated on the surface of my confused soul. The self translation wasn't long in coming.

I always stopped anything he was doing before I could really 'get off.' Sure I got off. It was impossible not to with him. But he was right. The crazy out of control mind losing orgasms could be counted on one hand, and that was counting the time in the tour bus.

“You know why,” I protested envisioning our son always down the hall.

The day Olivia had picked up Tristan for his goodbye hangout day, the door had closed, and we had not even made it to the bed the first time, banging our brains out on the couch before moving. That day to me had surpassed any times ever.

Jack had no trouble understanding. “I know there was always little ears on the other side of the walls. But not now. And you still pushed me away...”

“How can you say 'not now'? Two rooms away is not much different, Jack--I—you have to understand.”

“The bedrooms in this house are soundproof.” The argument was made as he played in myself hair, sifting it between his fingers. “I know I mentioned that...”

“Yes. But how soundproof can a room actually be?”

“You can scream as loud as you want and no one would hear.”

As much as that answer fluttered the depths of my stomach, I couldn't stop my laugh, and his dark brows drew inquiringly together.

“That's not really something you should tell a girl the first time she is in your room.”

“Why? Is it scary?” A laugh was just beneath the surface of his words, and he carried on the charade, “You could scream for days and days and no one would ever hear you.”

When he began to quote a famous line from a psychotic thriller, my hand went to his mouth. Even though I was giggling uncontrollably, I didn't want to be creeped out, even with Jack, by the end of that sentence.

Jack, however, wasn't through playing. With a roll, he was atop me, and his hand went from my hair to pin one of my wrists. Although I tried to flay the other away from him, he imprisoned it as well.

“So it would be creepy if I tied you up the first night?”

“You are not tying me up any night.”

My assurance only heedlessly bounced from his smug face. “We'll see.”

With another quick kiss, he rolled with us. I landed on top of him and discovered that any extra movements could swiftly bring on a test of the soundproof claim. Jack's smile grew broader upon watching whatever was in my face as I made this observation. However, ignoring his body's response he eased off and I eased away.

“I'm going to go back to my room so I don't have to wake up again until Tristan does. Hopefully he will sleep late.”

From the foot of the bed, I picked up my towel realizing again my clothing dilemma.

“I can get your luggage if you want. Or you can wear something of mine?” The last part rang hopefully as he crossed to his closet.

Following him, I found a room almost as big as my bedroom back home. Jack pulled a tee shirt from a hanger and passed a pair of boxers from a drawer.

As we both pulled on clothing, I asked, “What if Tristan needed us? And we were in here? With the door closed?” Banging our brains out in the soundproof room?!

“His t.v. has a webcam type of camera. And it can be pulled up on my tv or either of our phones.” His half-smile quirked as he piled back into bed admiring his clothing draped on my frame. “I forgot tonight though. Left it off 'cause you were in there. Then got distracted...”

Distracted was putting it mildly.

Recalling every second of our time tonight flustered my body and made sleep elusive for almost an hour. The mirror images were branded in my brain. His touch was burned on my skin and his taste in my mouth...

Jack's ring tone jarred me from a dead sleep, and several disoriented seconds passed before I fumbled my phone from the nightstand. By then, voicemail had intercepted the rings. Without even waiting to see if he left a message I hit the send button, dialing his phone.

“Hey Mariss.” His voice was cheery, alert, and I could hear Tristan happily gaming in the background. “You going to be ready to go shopping in an hour?”

Deducing that he was calling from downstairs, I refrained from asking him all the motherly things I wanted to, like if Tristan had eaten breakfast. Or lunch, I squinted at the clock on my phone seeing that it was noon. Lying, I assured him I would be ready in an hour.

I would be ready, but never ready.

The drop party was terrifying to think about. In college, I was a party type of person, but that had waned over the years, and disappeared when Tristan came along. Even if I liked large social gatherings, this was different.

Tonight, I would be arriving to a place, where I was sure to feel out of place. Jack would be the only familiar face, and if that were not bad enough, he would be one of the guests of honor.

Rubbing my eyes, I found my luggage lined up just inside the doorway and marveled that I had slept so soundly for so long. Picking through my clothing, I randomly tossed aside most of it, envisioning it unfit for the ritzy clothing stores on Rodeo Drive.

Narrowing the choice to a couple of shirts, I bit back a frustrated curse and let the lid fall closed. In thinking of this day, I had never given forethought to what to wear into the store. 

Tugging the zipper on the suitcase containing my jeans, skirts, and pants, I thought of the black dress slacks that were part of my work ensemble. Mentally, I began matching them with one of the nicer shirts just pulled from the folded stacks. However, once the next suitcase was open, I fell back in surprise.

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