That’s when I realize, with the thrashing of my heart in my chest, the flutter of my pulse, the ribbon binding my wrists, the feel of his lips along my skin… that there won’t be any going back to how it was before Jackson.
10
jackson
Green is not my color
Light peeks through the heavy velvet curtains, and even though I know it’s time to get up so we can get back on the road, I want to stay in the warmth of this bed with Emmie’s naked body wrapped around me. I want to pretend like this stupid damn party doesn’t exist and that once we leave, real life isn’t going to come crashing back in.
Because the moment we step outside of these doors, we’ll go back to pretending we hate each other, not like together we have the best sex of our lives. Not like it seems we don’t really hate each other at all.
Maybe it’s because the longer I spend with Emma, the more I realize that I had it all wrong. She’s the opposite of everything I expected her to be. Maybe it’s because I’m the only one that Emma feels like she can be less than perfect with. Her true self, unashamedly, without having to put up the wall she’s built around her heart in the process.
“Good morning,” Emma’s soft, sleepy voice murmurs from the crook of my neck, where she’s nestled.
“Morning, Snowflake.”
My voice is still heavy with sleep, and I make no move to get up, instead tightening my arms around her.
“As much as I don’t want to, we’ve gotta get a move on it if we’re planning on accomplishing anything other than orgasms this weekend.”
I feel her lips turn up against my skin, and I press mine to her hair in a chaste kiss, then tuck the covers around her and head to the bathroom.
Something tells me that after last night, she’s going to need a moment to… process. Clearly, there was a shift, and I don’t know how she’s going to feel about it. I just know I can’t be the only one who felt that. So while I’m showering, I’ll give her a minute to work through her head, and then we’ll spend the rest of the day checking things off her list.
Emma
“I honestly forget how much I love the city until I come to visit,” I say, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “It’s beautiful. The buildings, all of the decorations for Christmas.”
Jackson nods. “Would you ever move here? Leave Strawberry Hollow?”
“Oh gosh, no. I mean, it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but I am a firm believer that home is where the heart is. My parents are there, my friends, my job. I wouldn’t know how to be anywhere else.”
“Yeah, same. I thought about it. Leaving,” he says as we walk down the crowded sidewalk. Snow is falling lightly around us, and the smell of candied pecans hangs in the air from the booths lining the busy city street, a small reminder of home. “Back before I decided to start Pearce Builders. I thought about getting out while I could, and then I realized that nowhere would ever be home the way Strawberry Hollow is.”
I nod. “It has a funny way of working its way into your heart and making it impossible for you to leave.”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “So, what are we checking off today?”
I take my phone out of my bag and pull up the list I’ve been compiling since our meeting at Town Hall, trying not to feel overwhelmed and completely out of control about the party that is creeping up on us. “Um, we need to find a band, go to the florist, meet with the bakery, and then figure out all of the little details. Remaining decorations, table settings, etcetera etcetera. Get anything we need to have delivered for the party since this is the only time we’ll be able to come into the city.”
“Lead the way.”
Hours later, we’ve checked approximately two things off our list: the band and simple floral arrangements for the tables.
Now for the hard part.
“We are not having a six-tier vanilla cake, Emmie. Jesus, that has to be the most boring shit ever invented.” He leans closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as he whispers, “And now I know there’s nothing vanilla about you. Especially not after last night.”
The low timbre of his voice causes my thighs to clench and my clit to throb when I think of that ribbon and all of the deliciously dirty things he did to my body without an ounce of shame.
Needless to say, even though I was not originally overjoyed about being stuck in a honeymoon suite with Jackson Pearce, we christened it in more ways than one.
“Jackson!” I exclaim, my eyes darting around to see if anyone heard him. “Behave. We have to get through this list, and we will never make it if you don’t act like a… gentleman.”
His lip tugs into a cocky grin, but he keeps his comments to himself, even though I know it’s killing him.
“Fine, since you obviously have an… aversion to vanilla. What do you suggest?”
“Hmmm… what about gingerbread?”
Biting my lip, I mull it over. That’s actually… not a bad idea.
“I’m listening.”
The sexy smirk on his lips widens into a full-blown smile that has the ability to knock me clean off my feet, or at least the breath from my lungs.
He’s so handsome and so, so far off-limits it’s not even part of the picture.
Mind-blowing orgasms? That’s one thing, but these feelings… they’re a completely new ball game.
The last thing we need to complicate this even further is feelings. We’re just two consenting adults having very hot, very delicious sex in private, and when everyone’s around, we’re two people who have always hated each other.
Nothing more, nothing less.
“Where’d you go?” he asks.
Blinking, I shake my head, refocusing on him as we stand in the bakery. “Sorry, zoned out. What did you say?”
He squints. “I said, what if we did a gingerbread-flavored cake with white icing so it matches your ‘aesthetic.’” He lifts his fingers in quotes. “This bakery has the best gingerbread cake from here to the coast. Trust me.”
I nod.
He walks to the front counter and greets the woman working behind it, a bright smile on his face as he talks to her. She’s enamored by him from the very first word, and God, do I understand. It’s impossible not to fall for his charm.
After a few moments, they both walk over to where I’m standing.
“Hi! I’m Avery, and I was just talking to Jackson, and he filled me in on your Christmas party, which is so cute, by the way! He said you’re the brains behind the operation, so I just wanted to run a few ideas I have by you?”
“Yes, of course,” I tell her, plastering on a smile, even though I’m feeling slightly irrationally jealous at the way she keeps glancing at Jackson and batting her eyelashes.
“Okay, cool. We can sit here if you’d like. Give me just a sec to grab my pen and a book.” She sashays away, her perky little ponytail bouncing as she goes, and I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest, completely avoiding Jackson’s gaze.
Avery returns a minute later with a giant binder, notebook, and pencils, then pulls out the chair, sits down, and immediately dives into her ideas for the party cake. Even if she had to pause a few times to smile at Jackson and made sure to put her hand on his stupid veiny forearms more than once, her ideas are good, and I think they did a good job of translating what we both wanted into something feasible.