Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

PART TWO~CHAPTER : 5

♪♫••═════ PART TWO~CHAPTER : 5  ═════••♬ ♭

I made an excuse for Jack, read two stories, and fell asleep fully dressed on top of Tristan's comforter. I had every intention of sneaking off to Jack's room for a half hour, or so, once our son drifted off, but it seemed hours later when I woke.

Feeling grimy from travel and from sleeping in my clothing, I stripped into a shower and relaxed into the scent of suds and the warmth of the water. The bathroom windows were still dark, and remembering again that we had not unloaded our bags I wrapped in a towel,.

The dresser beckoned, and I pulled a drawer open finding a couple of stretchy women's tees. Had Jack picked up a few items for me as well as Tristan? The next random drawer contained silky thongs, and I grinned imagining him at a check out register with these items. But, when I picked up a bra, I suddenly dropped the lingerie, as if it were poison.

I was a full C, but there was no way I could be mistaken for a D. Not by a guy like Jack, who had bra's thrown at him every night when he was on stage. One who had no doubt entertained countless women, and this dresser seemed proof of the entertaining. It was possibly a catch all for everything left behind.

Feeling bereft, I padded through the bathroom still wearing a towel and pulled open the door to Tristan's room. Although it would be comforting to climb back into his bed and cozy up to him, the bed had become cramped after awhile. Also, I had no clean clothing unless I raided the dresser. Wearing the intimate apparel of strange women, who had likely slept with Jack, was unappealing.

An unbearable thirst came on, and tucking the long towel more securely, I descended the steps. The wood was cool beneath my feet, but nothing compared to the tiles of the hall, and I shivered for a second in the air conditioning while crossing to the kitchen. Thankfully, Rusty was nowhere about to bark at me, and I assumed him to be with Jack.

Chugging a bottled water, I noticed the flicker of light in the adjoining den. Further investigation revealed that I was not the only one cold due to the electronic climate of this house on a sultry night. A blanket covered sleeper lay on the sofa in front of the television.

Standing for a moment, I eyed the unfamiliar den before bringing my focus back to the couch.

Even Jack's head was beneath the Navajo throw. After one last sip of my water, I set the near empty bottle on the sofa table as I watched the blanket's slight rise and fall with each breath.

Pulling at the edge near his covered feet, I eased it off him, as I eased myself on him. My knees sank into the cushions as my hands glided up the sweat pants. Hooking my fingers into the waist, I was about to draw them down when my lips froze just over the hump they had been about to touch. Even through the sweatpants, something seemed different.

The legs mingling with mine were not as long, not as muscular, and the scent permeating my senses not right to me.

Worse yet, the sleeper awakened, his startled head popping from beneath the blanket. And it was not Jack.

Dax's groggy, but wide, eyes were focused on my face as I stumbled in my haste to put distance between us.

“Uhhh. Umm.” A stutter was all I could manage when inwardly my mind raged in shocked curses.

Oh holy shit, I had almost put my lips to his--

Without another utterance, I pulled the towel tighter to my torso and nearly tripped on the step up to the kitchen. Turning the corner, I sagged against the large paneled fridge. My eyes slid up the long staircase knowing it was visible to Dax from the couch, and I hesitated to climb it.