TIT FOR TAT

TOUCHE/CHAPTER 2

It had been almost two weeks since he'd picked Emily up from the airport and their fateful date the following night. Jackson couldn't keep from smiling as he thought about the gleam in her eyes, the defiance on her face when he took the cuffs off her wrists and ankles and told her she was free to go. She'd been wet, willing and ready to be punished and he chuckled at the memory of her shock when he said not punishing her was her punishment.

He got out of the Jeep and looked back at the mountain range speckled with verdant new leafs glistening with the setting sun. He'd thought Emily would be in touch with him within days of him having Cliff drive her back to her parent's house but, surprisingly, she'd made no contact. I'll give her a few more days then call her. There's no way she's going to walk away from this...not after all these years, he thought, opening the bar door and walking inside.

His friend, Buck, was sitting at the bar and nodded to him. When he was seated, Buck put an arm over his shoulder and leaned in almost whispering, "So, you remember your old flame?"

"Which one?"

"Don't give me which one! How many times did you and Emily Masterson almost get it on?"

Jackson blushed. If you only knew... "Bro, I have no idea. You know, we always had this attraction and—"

"And she's sitting right over there in that group of snooty bitches from high school. You're older...probably don't remember a lot of 'em." Buck said, motioning with the beer in his right hand. "She's here! You have another chance. I overheard she's single...no longer with the douche. It's been how many years? And this is the first time you're both foot loose and fancy free."

Jackson glanced over his shoulder to a long table in front of the stage and felt a tingle of apprehension. Women...they talk about everything, particularly men and sex. He turned to Buck. "Over twelve years. I have a little problem here...picked her up from the airport when she flew in. We had a date...sort of. I pulled something really shitty. It was kind of like payback for all the times she'd rejected me." He wasn't about to tell him about the BDSM. That was between Emily and him.

Buck removed his arm and his eyes lit up. "Oh, damn, tell me please. I remember that one time you were about to do it and she got all guilty feeling because she was still married to that philandering asshole, even though they weren't living in the same state. Hell fire! She actually kicked you out of her bed and I had to come pick you up. Oh, I hope you got her back good."

So good I'm starting to feel like the asshole now, Jackson thought as his friend ordered two shots of tequila and two beers. Suddenly, he felt her, her eyes shooting daggers into his back. He picked up his drink, swiveled on the barstool, locked green eyes with her gray ones, lifted his glass in a toast and mouthed, "Salud".

It was obvious she'd been drinking for a while. She gave that funny grin of hers, nodded, lifted her glass and mouthed, "Fuck you". The women at her table stopped gabbing and turned to see who she was toasting. He turned back to the bar, downed the shot, ordered another one, took a swig of beer and turned to Buck who was chuckling so hard he was about to choke. "Oh, this is going to be fun. Turn around...now! Look at Emily."

Jackson turned in time to see her chug her beer, smack it down on the table, reach up, pull the clip from her hair and let it tumble in a tousled mass of copper curls around her shoulders. He knew the look. She was in warrior princess mode and before the night was over, she was going to go in for the kill. But it didn't matter. She was mesmerizing and tantalizing all at the same time and he didn't want to take his eyes off of her.

Buck tapped his shoulder and he swiveled back. His friend's face was now serious as he asked, "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

The question made his stomach knot. The idea terrified him. But all these years, he'd thought about and stayed close to Emily fucking Masterson. They'd stayed real friends. There had been women, but he'd never been in love with them and sometimes when he was with them, his mind would wander to the little redhead with the spitfire temperament and stubbornness of a mule. He'd made the money because of her. He'd built the house and the playroom because of her. He'd become intrigued with BDSM because of her and knowing someday the most important thing in his life would be to please her.