His tone was purposely cold. He wanted her off his back. But giving up easily wasn’t her style. “Jackson, this is a huge part of your life. We should discuss it.”
His face contorted with anger. “Why?” he asked, the word brittle with frost. “Why should I discuss something like this with you?”
She blinked, taken aback by the bite in his tone. But she held firm. “Because it’s a part of your life, and so am I.”
She took a risk making that declaration, and she knew it. She’d opened herself up to a deeply painful attack, where he could launch into her like a machete and slice her wide open, exposing her feelings and vulnerabilities. But she was part of his life, even if only temporarily, and she hated the way he hid from her.
Jackson’s breath left his chest in a whoosh, as if someone had slammed a fist into his gut. She sensed the truth had hit home. He sank down on the bed, slowly, like a deflating balloon. “You’re right,” he quietly admitted, swallowing hard. “You are a part of my life, even if it’s only for the next two weeks.”
His reminder of their waning time, even though he hadn’t said it to hurt her, nonetheless stung.
“But I asked you for a level of trust before, and I’m asking for it still. I just…” He took several deep breaths, as if to steady his nerves. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then why do you think Amy told me?” “Carla, please. I—”
“I’ve told you I respect your wishes, Jackson. I do. And I’m not asking you tell me anything you don’t want to. But the one person in the world who you’re closest to told me everything. I’m just wondering why.”
He shrugged, but Carla knew he was hiding from her. Again. And she was getting pretty tired of it.
“What?” she said, her voice sharp. “What is it?”
“She thinks…” He shook his head, changed his mind. “Zut alors. It doesn’t matter.”
She knew he was clamming up, stopping the conversation. She refused to accept it. “It does matter. Tell me.”
“Fine.” He let out breath. “Amy thinks I need someone in my life, and I think she’s hoping it’s going to be you.”
“So she wants me to know who you are, warts and all?”
The smallest of grins started to touch one corner of his mouth. “Something like that, I guess.”
“And you?” She sifted out any notes of hope or expectation from her voice, though her heartbeat slammed against her ribcage like a conga player on steroids.
“Don’t worry, I don’t have any intention of ruining your planned-out corporate life. Your trip to Paris and your big promotion are right on track. I’ll give your firm a great recommendation and you’ll be on your way.”
He looked at her as if expecting her to be grateful and really, why wouldn’t she? Everything she’d planned for herself — and her parents had planned for her — moved along like a well-oiled machine. As far as Jackson knew, that’s what she wanted. She’d told him as much, so why would he think she’d changed her mind?
Wait a minute, had she changed her mind? Why did she think like this? She wanted Paris and the promotion…right? Suddenly she felt as if the room had constricted, sucking out the oxygen and leaving her gasping like a fish out of water.
She turned to slip on her shoes and toss Jackson a grateful smile, hoping it masked the tortured anguish eating away her insides. An image of that old game show flashed through her mind, the one where the contestant had to pick what’s behind door number one or number two. The audience yelled out their choices, demanding to be heard, all the while the confused contestant stood on stage, biting her lips, searching for help among the masses.
Paris or Jackson? Door number one or door number two? Which one would give her what she really wants? Carla bit back an urge to scream. She had to get out of there and go someplace where she could think. Alone.
“Thanks for the evening.” She made to leave, but Jackson sprang from the bed, capturing her by the door. “I didn’t scare you away, did I?” A curious vulnerability was etched on his face, eyes wide and hopeful.
Carla was struck with a clear insight of how much her answer meant to him. Tension slid from her bones, realizing her feelings of insecurity didn’t lack for company. She shook her head, wanting to reassure him. “Scare me? No. Why?”
“Well, you know.” He shrugged. “With Amy’s crazy idea about us being together. She knows I don’t want a relationship and neither do you. We’ve both got plans. But for the next two weeks, my plans include you.”
I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want a relationship. Jackson’s words echoed in her head, mocking her like a spiteful child.
She closed her eyes and released a long breath. Remember, you don’t want a relationship either. Right?
Yes, that’s right. Her future was her career and Paris, and she had to remember that.
Just focus on the time left, Carla.
He turned her around and gave her a soft kiss, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away. “After that, I promise to set you free.”
Her heart twisted. Could he free someone who doesn’t want to be let go? Confusion spun like tumbleweeds in the wind. She didn’t know what to do or what she wanted. Except that right now, with Jackson’s eyes fixed on her, blazing with intensity, she knew one thing — she wanted him.
The atmosphere transformed, becoming as hot and sultry as the bayou. Carla heard Jackson’s breath hitch and knew his hunger for her began building once more.
“Mon Dieu,” he groaned. He bent forward, lips and tongue sliding along her throat. “Sex with you is so fucking good.”
Her lips fell open to say something in response, but the words wouldn’t come. Confusion mingled with the hot thread of desire that always seemed to flow between them. Already a warm gush of wetness dampened her panties. She wanted to think, but need for him won out.
“I should go,” she protested, even as he began unbuttoning her blouse. Once it fell open, he unhooked her bra and feasted on her breasts.
“Come back to bed,” he murmured, pulling her in that direction.
“Jackson, please, I—”
“Now.”
Argument failed. His demanding tone turned her on as quickly as if he flicked a switch, because she knew it meant he wanted her. Badly. He had her on the bed, lying on her back. He stood next to the bed, lording over her as though she was his captive. With deliberate, agonizing slowness he undid his jeans, his eyes never leaving hers. He shoved them down, then just as quickly got rid of his shirt. Her appreciative gaze roamed over his sculpted torso, his thick shoulders, the ladder of muscles forming his abs. He stood naked before her, a bead of moisture clinging to his rock hard erection.
“Do you see what you do to me?” he asked, taking his cock in hand. He stroked himself, gripping the head before sliding down the swollen shaft. He cupped his balls for a moment, panting as arousal deepened, then continued to stroke. A trickle of sweat rolled down his chest as it rose and fell with desire. Carla’s heartbeat crashed like thunder. Her pussy clenched as she watched Jackson masturbate.
“Do you see why you can’t leave yet?” He climbed onto the bed and kneeled before her, continuing to stroke. “Take off your clothes. Slowly.”