♪♫••════════CHAPTER 19════════••♬ ♭
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, they sat in a line of cushy seats, impatiently waiting for the latest Pixar sensation to begin. A large tub of shared popcorn rested in Tristan’s lap. Tristan was between them, but Jack was getting most of the little boy’s attention. The lights dimmed, and instead of watching the previews, she covertly observed father and son.
Jack was dressed in low profile mode, his hair and arms hidden in a hoodie, but when the lights went down, he shrugged the jacket off. Tristan traced the art on Jack’s arm, a tiny finger brushing over the colorful guitar and the music notes. He seemed at ease with it, and she had to assume that by going out last night, she had missed the big reveal of Jack taking off his jacket. How she would have loved to have seen Tristan’s face, and to have heard his questions.
When the credits began to roll, Jack suggested a restaurant, but Tristan wanted to drive through and carry food home.
“Are you hurting buddy?” Jack asked with an anxious perusal of their boy. When Tristan shook his head declaring he just wanted to eat at home, Jack let the subject drop. However, the glance he slid her way was sad and perceptive. Tristan was embarrassed on crutches. Only the anticipation of seeing one of his favorite animated characters on an IMAX screen had lured him into the theater.
Back at the house, they dug into their supreme tacos while watching another movie, this one from Tristan’s DVD collection. Since Tristan had seen it a dozen times, he gave her no problems about a bath midway through. After getting him into the tub, along with the requested Hot Wheels cars and colored bubbles thrown in as extra bribery, she checked the thermostat, making sure the air conditioner wouldn’t kick on, and left the bathroom door ajar.
Halting at the end of the hallway, she took in Jack sprawled on the couch. Just like last night, he looked as if he had occupied that spot a hundred times over. Despite the angry sparks flying between them last night, all day long, sparks of a different kind had kindled between them. Their flirtatious behavior had been rampant enough that even Tristan, an oblivious innocent child, had noticed a couple of times.
Jack was quick with the one-line innuendos, and after being astonished and rendered speechless the first couple of times, she’d boomeranged them right back.
At the theater, he’d held the door open while first Tristan, then she, passed through. His hand rested on her back as he followed– a hand that accidentally brushed her rear when he later let it drop to pay for the refreshments. As they watched the movie, his arm stretched across the back of Tristan’s seat enough to allow his fingers to brush her shoulder, caress her neck, and play in her hair.
Now, intermittent splashes and happy hums sounded from the bathroom. Their son was occupied, and before she could talk herself out of the impulse, she went with it. Ignoring Jack’s perplexed look when she advanced so quickly, she dropped to the couch. With first one knee, and then the other, she straddled him. Using her weight to hold him, she closed each of her hands vice-like on his upper arms.
“Mmh, Mariss, what’s up…” In keeping with the surreal day, a day that felt like they were a couple, a family, the husky, sensual pitch of his words did not let her down.
“Paybacks.” Readily, she spoke against his lips.
Her tongue traced his lips, teasing the corners, and her teeth tugged at his bottom one. A deep rumble in his throat drove her to deepen the kiss, and he remained compliant, participating without taking over. It was fun and fiery being the one to plunder, to pace things, and she kissed and kissed, staring into those dark eyes whenever their eyes would blink open at the same time.
When she was able to speak, she softly jeered, “You have fun by yourself last night?”
Surprise widened his eyes, but he didn’t miss a beat of this new verbal game. “Yeah. I did. Told you, I have a good imagination.” Studying her face in that heated way he had, he taunted right back, “You?”
“Me what?” Her confused inquiry mumbled into the next kiss. So good. His tongue felt so good… “Mmh…”
The muscles in his arms jumped when she retreated from his mouth to taste the base of his throat, and instinctively, with last night’s teasing in the back of her mind, she held him fast, brushing her lips to a late evening rough jaw as he spoke.
“Did you pick up where we left off? Mariss?”
Indignantly, she straightened and then immediately dropped her imprisoning weight back to her hands. “I went to sleep!”
“Ouch! That’s cold…” He grumbled, and his eyes fell longingly to her lips.
“You are cold.” Her reply was chastising, but she couldn’t refuse the kiss he wanted, and she returned her mouth to his.
“I feel hot…” The whisper opened his lips, and her tongue seized the opportunity to slip through again.
This had begun as a game to leave him wanting as he had done her last night, but it was becoming impossible to pull away. When at last she managed it, whispering a mocking, “Goodnight Jack,” the biceps beneath her hand flexed. The amusement in his eyes, and his sudden movement had her thinking twice about the soundness of her plan.
No matter how quickly she released and attempted to get away, his reflexes would be faster. The sardonic light in his gaze, as he assessed her plight, confirmed this.
On a resigned sigh, she breathed, “You’re just going to grab me, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight,” his soft, husky answer rebounded, and a smile danced mischievously in his expression, not unlike Tristan’s when he had once gelled Bally’s hair into spikes.
Choosing that very moment in the hope that he would not expect her to escape right away, she used her hands as a pivot point to leap from the couch.
With the swift reflexes of a tiger, he made a successful grab the second she let up. Like a gator, he promptly rolled, trapping her between him and the back of the sofa. Vice-like, he pinned her and while stealing a kiss, draped a leg over hers enough to continue the roll until he was on top. Wild heartbeats slammed into her rib cage. Already breathless from the struggle, she completely lost her breath when he continued this kiss.
“Let me up…” She shifted her mouth enough to speak, and unwilling to gracefully lose, bucked against him for good measure.
“No…Uh uh…” He spoke against her ear. Catching the lobe between his teeth, he teased it with his tongue.
“Mmh… Now I see why you have a sex consent contract thing…” Her shameless words were light, but he instantly brought his face back to hers.
“Mariss, my honey, will you shut up about that paper…”
‘My honey.’ The endearment sounded so sweet from his lips, and she searched his face.
Tristan laughed in his playing, the sound echoing loudly from the tiled bathroom, shattering the spell and busting the brink they found themselves on. Grudgingly, Jack moved. Sitting up, he stared reflectively into the stained glass shade of a lamp, and when he spoke, it was not anything she expected to hear.
“A while back, some girl claimed rape. Turns out money was all it took to make it go away. She took the first measly offer.” Hastily, he assured when his eyes took in her face, “I didn’t. I swear.”
“I know…” The assurance easily emerged as she read his haunted look. Jack was persistent, and playful, but as she had learned the hard way last night, he had self-control. He was an ass, but he was no rapist.
Meeting her gaze, he went on, “I guess that’s the reason I acted like I did that day on the phone. When you told me you got pregnant, it felt like extortion all over again.”
“I knew it would.” Last night she had tried to explain, and now with the same words she strove for his understanding. “That’s why I didn’t tell you when it happened.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry, Jack. You’re right. It wasn’t for me to decide.” Her fingertips lifted to his face, tracing the slight stubble she’d felt against her lips and face.
The kiss he laid on her was caring, tender, and forgiving, and the kiss she gave back was convincing, trusting, and fiery with love.
Love? It was no question although the word itself was new in her thoughts toward him. In her fantasies, she had been in love with Jack Storm forever.
Tristan played loudly in the bathroom, and she knew his bathwater would be getting cold. She and Jack played bravely, hands and lips wandering until she was so hot she was delirious.
“Could I have more bubbles?” Their son’s voice drifted down the hall.
♪♫••════════════════••♬ ♭