Jackson: A Sexy Bastard Novel (18 page)

Of course she hated it. She’s not made for a place like that. How could I have made her feel so terrible about herself that she went and took that sort of dead-end, soul-sucking job?

“Skylar I am so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m such an ass.”

“No, you were right. I do need something more stable.” Skylar bites her lip. “Right after I quit The Library, they cut down my hours at yoga, too. So I panicked. I needed the money. Between rent and the bills from my last hospital stay . . . .” She pauses. “And now
this
hospital stay. The ambulance ride alone . . . .” She trails off. “I can’t believe I quit. That was really stupid.
Irresponsible
.”

“Let me help.” I say it without thinking, but once the words are out, I know I mean them. “I can get you your job back at The Library. I know they want you back.”

“Really?” Hope returns to her eyes.

“Definitely. I can cover the ambulance bill.”

“Jackson, I can’t let you—”

“Can’t let me love you? Can’t let me take care of you?” I take both of her hands and press them to my chest. “Skylar, I know you’re strong. I know that you can handle things yourself. Alone. But you don’t need to. We can be a team.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she presses her face into my chest. After a beat, I feel her warm breath seep into my shirt.

“Okay, Jackson.” I pull her into me, her words muffled against my chest. “Okay. Let’s be a team.”

A
pparently one of
the rules about being on a “team” is that when one member is down, another teammate takes over.

Or, in our case, when Jackson decides I’m an invalid, he goes into overdrive.

Not only did he sleep in the hospital waiting room all night, but he also stayed with me while I went through final consultations with my doctor,
and
while I filled out stacks and stacks of release forms. Then, when they finally discharged me, he demanded that I come back to his house.

“You have to rest,” he insisted. “A fourth floor walkup is not resting.”

Between the emotional and physical turmoil of the last several weeks, I was too exhausted to argue.

“Fine. For your sake,” I told him. “So you won’t worry about me.” And also, because I’m thoroughly wrung out.

Not so nearly wrung out, however, that I don’t make a beeline for the shower the moment we arrive at his house.

“Do you want something to eat? Drink?” he calls after me as I charge up the stairs.

“No thanks,” I shout back. I can still smell the hospital on me: a putrid combination of antiseptic and urine. I have to get it off.

Entering the master bedroom, I’m struck by how perfectly Jackson it is: neat, spacious, and functional. His king-sized bed is pristinely made, the navy comforter folded back in a perfectly straight line below four fluffy white pillows. I peel off my clothes and leave them in a heap on the freshly vacuumed carpet before making my way to the master bathroom which is equally spare and clean: all chrome faucets and cream-colored tile. The giant whirlpool in the corner beckons to me, but I grudgingly turn on the shower, instead. Number one priority right now is to scrub this stench off of me, and chances are that if I get in the whirlpool, I’ll fall dead asleep.

Stepping into the spray, I can feel the pent-up tension in my body slide off and swirl down the drain. I’m in Jackson’s house, with Jackson downstairs, likely puttering around the kitchen, trying to guess what I want to eat. I feel warm inside, and it’s not just from the shower. This man loves me. And I love him.

Tilting back my head, I let the water run over my forehead, over my eyelids, down my chin. It feels like a baptism. In ten minutes, scrubbed and rinsed clean, I’ll emerge from this shower a brand new Skylar—a Skylar in a relationship.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.

“Skylar?” The door opens. “Damn, you’re quick. I wanted to bring you a towel.”

“You can come in.”

Through the frosted glass of the shower door, I see his blurry figure move past the shower and set a shapeless gray lump on the counter. He starts to leave but then pauses directly in front of the shower door. I know what he’s seeing, because it’s what I’m seeing, too: vague outlines, blurred colors, glimpses of movement. He’s staring, but not seeing. Not really.

With the heel of my hand, I nudge the door of the shower open. Now I can see him in vivid detail: wide stance, arms rigid at his sides, inner turmoil clearly on display. The sight of his jaw muscle twitch makes the decision easy. Lifting the loofah off of a hook on the wall, I hold it out to him.

“Wash my back?”

In less than a minute, his clothes are on the floor and he steps into the shower behind me. Taking the soapy loofah, he sweeps my hair from my shoulders and brushes it across my neck. Then, he follows gently with his palm, rubbing the suds across my shoulders and down my back. I can feel each muscle relax as every nerve ending is reawakened. I love how he touches me so intentionally, as though he’s memorizing every inch of my body. Like I’m something expensive, exquisite.

He scrubs my skin in small circles, following with the palm of his hand. Soon there are more hands than loofah, and then just his hands, slick from the soap, glide over my body, touching me everywhere: my neck, my back, breasts, my hips. His fingers slide across my stomach, and then down, slowly parting my legs. I lean back into him, hot spray hitting my cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pressing his fingers against the soft inner flesh of my thighs.

“Mmm,” I murmur, eyes closed. I’m more than okay. I’m in a perfect place, with a perfect man.

I want more skin. More fingers, More everything.

Reaching behind me, I gently cup his balls and feel him inhale. I love that sound. I grip more firmly and feel his abs constrict. In response, he presses two fingers inside me and uses another to circle my clit. A shudder runs straight up my spine.

“I could do this forever,” Jackson murmurs, clutching my body as it shudders again. “I’m addicted to making you feel this way.” He presses his fingers deeper, deeper. The pressure forces a moan from my lips.

Escaping his grasp, I bend forward. I spread my legs and grip the slim ledge by the faucet and, behind me, I hear Jackson groan.

Gently, he grips my hips and pulls me against him. When I feel the tip of him enter me, everything inside me constricts. His cock slides into me easily; my body was waiting for this all along.

“I love you, Jackson Masters,” I whisper as I thrust my hips back into him and close my eyes.

“Now make me feel alive.”

S
pring has arrived
in full force and almost without warning. Sun is shining incessantly, flowers pop up everywhere—I don’t care what anyone says, springtime is the best in Atlanta. And it’s on one of these perfect, sunny days that all of my plans are about to come together. Skylar and I are in my car with the top down, on our way to The Library, and all I have to do is get us there without her asking any too-pointed questions. Unfortunately, this is proving to be more difficult than I’d anticipated.

“Did Ryder say what this meeting is about?” Skylar’s brow is furrowed in concern—concern for
me
, of all things. I avoid her gaze and keep my eyes focused intently on the road.

“Nope,” I reply, which is the truth: Ryder didn’t say what this “emergency meeting” is about. But that’s because he didn’t actually call the meeting. I did.

At The Library, I hold the door open, and Skylar enters in front of me, her gait fluid, her perfect ass accentuated by skintight gray yoga pants. Once again, I have to marvel that this woman—and her ass—have chosen to be with me and me alone. This morning, I woke up to her warm wet lips clenched firmly around my cock—and this is after we fucked five different ways last night.

And even out of bed, she’s phenomenal. Two nights ago, I was working late at the office, and she cooked mac and cheese and rode the bus there to bring me some. So basically she’s perfect. And by some miracle, she chose to be with me.

“Skylar! Thank god you came. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Shelby runs over and gives Skylar a big hug.

(More proof that she’s perfect: my sister loves her.)

“My man.” Cash high-fives me from behind the bar, grinning knowingly. “What’ll it be? You still a fan of my sweet, sweet Oblivion?”

“Nah, I think I’ve moved past that.” I glance over at Skylar, who is now surrounded by Shelby, Ruby, and Avery, all chattering at once. “I think a plain beer’ll do me.”

“Plain beer?” Cash shakes his head as he reaches for a glass. “What happened to hardcore day-drinking Jackson Masters?”

He’s
tearing those yoga pants, very soberly, right off that perfect ass
, I think, watching Skylar follow the girls upstairs.

“Keep it in your pants, man.” Ryder appears beside me, clapping me on the shoulder.

“What?”

“You’re gonna take her home after this, right?” Ryder glances up the stairs where the girls disappeared. “Relax.”

True. She is coming home with me—now and hopefully forever.

“Looks like we’d better go,” Cash says to me, ducking under the bar. I look up to find Shelby glaring down over the railing.

Okay, okay,
I mouth. This whole thing might have been my idea, but Shelby’s the one who made it all happen—which I guess is why she’s so anxious to get the show on the road. Shelby loves surprises.

Together, Cash, Ryder, and I climb the stairs and join the rest of the group in the VIP balcony lounge. Everyone’s here: Ruby and Avery, Knox and Shelby, Cassie and Ryder, Savannah and Cash; even Parker made it, sitting silently in the corner with his Guinness. My heart swells with a rush of gratitude for these generous people. They are my family. They’d do anything for me, and that’s why they’re here.

“Ahem.” As Shelby clears her throat and steps toward the center of the group, I slide into a chair beside Skylar and squeeze her shoulder. She looks back at me in surprise.

“I thought this was a partners meeting,” she whispers.

“Shhh,” I reply, and gently steer her attention back to Shelby.

“First, I want to thank Ryder for taking the blame on this one. I know it was pretty last minute to call everyone together for a meeting, and he played the fall guy well. So thanks.” Shelby lifts her drink in Ryder’s direction and he lifts his in return.

“Anything for you, Shelbs.”

They both drink, and Skylar turns toward me again.

“What is Shelby talking about?” she asks. “The fall guy?”

“So, as I’m sure you’ve now gathered,” Shelby continues, “I called this meeting. Because we have an announcement to make.”

Now Shelby faces Skylar directly. Her serious demeanor breaks, and she’s suddenly smiling like a kid at Christmas.

“We’ve all talked about it, and now that you’re part of the family, Skylar, we’ve decided we want to bring you fully into the fold.”

“Wait.” Skylar looks around in mock terror. “Is this like the mafia? Do I have to go through initiation?” She balls her fists and makes a swipe in Shelby’s direction. “I’m ready. I can cut a bitch.”

We all laugh, and then Cassie pipes up from her corner, “No, it’s nothing like that.”

At this, Shelby sits down on Knox’s lap and waves a hand in Cassie’s direction, indicating for her to continue. Cassie stands in order to make eye contact with Skylar, “So, the guys are all about investing in new business, right?”

Ryder, Cash, Knox, Parker, and I all nod on cue.

“Right. And so far,” Cassie continues, “that new business has been all bars and clubs. Which is fine; the new speakeasy is coming together great, and the Library is literally swimming in money. Which is why—” she looks at Skylar—“they’re ready to invest in a new venture.”

Now I’m the one who can’t contain my excitement. I reach down and take Skylar’s hand. Her fingers wrap around mine instinctively, even as her face registers nothing. She still has no idea.

“We’re looking for something a little outside the box,” Parker adds. Still, no reaction from Skylar.

“Right.” Cassie nods at Parker. “And the ladies—” she indicates Ruby, Avery, Cassie, Savannah “—have decided they want in on the action, too.”

Everyone nods, but Skylar just looks more confused.

“So, here’s the thing.” Shelby cuts in. I can tell the excitement is killing her; me, I’m practically bouncing in my seat with anticipation. I grip Skylar’s hand tighter. “This was originally Jackson’s idea, but we all discussed it, and everyone’s in one hundred percent agreement. We want to be silent partners with you when you open your new dance studio.”

All eyes are on Skylar, waiting for her reaction. Her brow remains furrowed as she processes what Shelby has said. Then, she looks around at all of us, her expression completely bewildered.

“That’s great,” she says slowly. “I’d love to have your guys’ help when I . . . start my studio. But it’s going to be a while.”

She looks at me and then back at the rest of the group.

“I mean, it’ll be at least a few years before I can rebuild my credit enough for a loan. Maybe Cassie and Savannah can help me with my business plan in the meantime? That would be super helpful.”

“We’re not just offering you our business knowledge, Sky,” I tell her. “We’re giving you the seed money.”

I feel her stiffen in my arms. Then, she turns and looks me fully in the face, eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them.

“You’re what?”

“That’s right.” Shelby is so excited, she’s practically hopping up and down. “We’re going to invest in you. In Skylar’s Studio!”

“
Some
of us think that name is boring,” Ruby chimes in. “What about ‘Reach for the Sky’?”

“Lame.” Savannah shakes her head.

“We can figure out the details later,” Ryder interjects, “but the important thing is that Skylar wants this.”

All eyes turn back to Skylar.

“Is this something you want?” I ask, watching Skylar’s face closely. “Your own dance studio?”

There’s a long pause, and I’m starting to second-guess myself. Did I judge this completely wrong? I know she only just settled into my apartment a few weeks ago; maybe it’s crazy to think she’s ready to do something this big. It’s just . . . when she talks about dancing, it’s like she’s transported to another world where everything is perfect, where everything’s just the way it should be. I thought giving her a studio would be a way to bring that world to her. And once I found YouTube videos of her performances and showed them to the group, everyone else got on board right away—even Parker, and he’s not one to part with money lightly. She really is that talented.

Yet, in this moment of silence, I can’t help but wonder if I moved too quickly. Now, not only does she have to decide her future career in an instant, she has to do it in front of everyone, all at once.

But then she turns to me, with tears glistening in her eyes, and says the magic word:

“Yes.”

Her smile is brilliant, beaming out from somewhere deep inside. “I’ve dreamt of having a studio for years. But I never thought it would come true.” Tears start to run down her cheeks, and I hug her tight against my body. “Thank you so much, Ryder. Shelby. All of you.” Finally, she turns her head so her face is buried in my neck. “Jackson. I can’t believe you’d do this.”

I kiss the crown of her head. “Of course I would. I would do anything to make you happy, Sky. All of us would. And we believe in you.”

“Yeah,” says Cash. “Plus we saw those videos. Damn.”

Skylar and I stay entwined for a few minutes, her body tight against mine, breathing against each other. Then, when she’s composed herself, Skylar turns back to the group.

“Seriously you guys, thank you so much.” She looks down at her hands and then back at everyone’s expectant faces. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“No need to say anything.” Ruby reaches under her table and pulls out a bottle of champagne. Eleven champagne flutes simultaneously materialize from beneath Cash and Savannah’s table. “At least not until these glasses are filled.” As she struggles with the cork, Skylar turns to face me.

“I can’t make a toast,” she mutters. “I have no idea what to say.”

“Don’t worry.” I touch her cheek. “I’ll do it. I know exactly what to say.”

Once the glasses have been filled and passed around, I take Skylar’s hand and lift my glass high in the air.

“To Skylar: may she find happiness and success with her new studio.”

“Hear, hear!” Everyone clinks glasses and we sip the stinging bubbles.

“Also to Skylar,” adds Shelby, raising her glass again, “for curing my stubborn-ass brother of his workaholism.”

“Hey now—”

My attempt to defend myself is drowned out by another loud, “Hear, hear!” and collective clinking of glasses. Over Skylar’s head, I mock-glare at Shelby while she pretends to avoid my gaze.

“So, Cash has an important question he wants to ask,” Savannah pipes up. We all look expectantly at Cash, who looks entirely befuddled.

“I do?”

Savannah sighs, but in a way that I know she has a trick up her sleeve. “Are there gonna be any couples classes? ‘Cause if there are, he’s dying to sign us up.”

Cash regards Savannah in mock horror, while Skylar thinks for a second. “Maybe tango?” Then she turns to me, her happiness finally morphing into excitement. “What do you think? Would you take a dance class?”

“If that means getting to put my hands on you all night?” I pull her in and kiss her deeply. “Babe, I’ll take
two
dance classes.”

“Get a room,” Cash hollers as we kiss again, this time longer and deeper.

“You know, we actually do have somewhere to be.”

I swallow the rest of my champagne and then stand and offer Skylar my hand. Setting down her glass with a look of confusion, she takes my hand and I pull her to her feet.

“Aw you’re leaving already?” pouts Ruby. “But the party just got started!”

Shelby quickly shushes her. “They said they have somewhere to
be
.” Her eyes are bright, and I can see her leg bouncing excitedly under the table. She’s the only one who knows where we’re head.

“Where are we going?” Skylar asks as we exit The Library. Her cheeks are pink, eyes bright, and yoga-clad body as fuckable as ever. It’s a miracle I waited this long. Just a little longer.

I open the passenger door to my Porsche and hold it wide.

“You’ll see.”