Haze

chapter 13



Sometimes I felt like life was just a blazing trip down one long highway, a godforsaken road that lacked speed limits and safety restrictions. The cars never needed to stop for refueling nor did they even stop at all most of the time. Unless your life was ending, your car never crashed either—a plus, I suppose.

A little less risky than physically driving.

You see, no good thing ever seemed to move slowly. It was as if you were in some stupid sports car that was speeding excessively, an obnoxious piece of machinery driven by some adrenaline junkie from hell. You spent most days sitting in the passenger seat, staring into nothingness, doing the same routine every minute of every hour as you desperately sought some sort of entertainment or escape.

That was hard work. You'd see so much of it, the same perpetually repeating things all the time. Well, unless you had one of those magic jobs that allowed you to travel all the time. But just because you could travel didn't mean that it was an unequivocally good thing. Constant traveling could easily damage families and personal relationships—and prevent new ones from ever happening at all.

Winding around the bend, you'd notice some incredible thing that you wanted to see up close. Finally, relief! Excitement!

"Can we stop?" Even though you shouted, your voice was like a meaningless whisper over the growling roar of the engine.

"Sorry. Gotta go even faster now." The driver was always faceless and tactless. Zero interest in appeasing you with kind words or false promises. You couldn't reason with him because despite his apparent grasp of English, he didn't seem to understand anything. He didn't show any emotion or concern whatsoever as he pressed the gas pedal even harder.

Head pinned to the seat, you were fighting off pangs of motion sickness because hey, you were going really fast.

You craved those brilliant things just out of reach but then again, not so much that they were overwhelming and diluted. In that speeding car, you still needed some sort of balance—but no one wants to stop and assess the situation when things were great. Why would you?

When you found the good things, they were always over too soon. No one liked to think about tomorrow when today was the best possible thing it could be. When todays were like that, you could never get enough of them.

And the better they were—better meaning you lost track of time and only noticed when they were over—the more you realized you'd never have another day just like them. No two days could ever be the same, no matter how hard you tried. The world couldn't be controlled like that, no way.

Like everyone else on the planet, I liked a good time. I liked a great time even more. When I was strapping myself into that private jet's seat next to Jack, I realized that time spent with him had been my great time—and it hadn't been short lived, something that defied everything I knew.

It was day after day of physical and mental bliss, the sort of thing that made you ask, Is this really happening to me?

Purposely distancing myself from Jack had just served to mask how I was really feeling, to take me out of the vulnerable position of being near him that instantly brought me to my knees. I didn't worry when I was around him, didn't over think everything I did and said. It made me vulnerable in the best possible way. I was genuinely living for the moment.

Sure, I had my job and all of that. And I wasn't about to blame Jesse or Laura or anyone else for my own indecision. Sometimes you latched onto whichever voice spoke to you first when you were craving advice. That didn't mean it was always the best advice or the best decision to make, but it also didn't mean it was the worst.

What kind of man jumped back into the picture with a surprise trip to California on a private jet, anyway? I think that's what you'd call a keeper. I hoped I was right. Timothy would have never done something like that, not now, not ever.

He also would never be as rich as Jack, but that was never the deal breaker for me. Although I appreciated it, Jack was far more than just his wealth. I would never be some gold digger, even if people assumed that about me for dating a rich, famous guy. Outward appearances could be deceiving; I learned that early on, thankfully.

By that point, the plane was taking off. It seemed to be a little more rough than take offs in larger planes—his plane was also much smaller and more personalized than a huge 747 full of random strangers—but I felt safe and secure next to Jack, even though our safety was totally in the pilot's hands.

"It's rough sometimes," Jack said, as if reading my mind. "Tim is really good, though. Don't worry."

Tim, huh? I swallowed the lump in my throat after imagining my Timothy flying the plane.

Sorry, folks, but I hate you both, and so we're going to crash into a mountainside in about ten seconds. Goodbye, cruel world!

Jack sensed my nervousness—he probably attributed it to the take off and not my morbid vision—and offered me his hand. I took it. Our fingers immediately locked and held that way. His firm touch brought my mind back to earth as the plane became airborne. I chuckled at that thought.

We sat there together in loud silence, the plane roaring as it battled the wind during its ascent. The sun looked breathtakingly gorgeous from outside the window, and the realization that we'd be following its setting the whole trip made me even happier.

When we reached our peak altitude, the plane evened out and the engines quieted to a comfortable level. Jack stood up and stretched. "No big deal, right?"

I smiled at him. "That was just fine. Ten minutes ago, I didn't know where I was going. And now I'm on a private jet with you." I suddenly noticed his aftershave, a refreshing scent that was just pure man. As usual, his hair was perfectly styled, the top three buttons on his button-down shirt unbuttoned.

"Let's go sit on the couch. I meant it when I said the seats were just for takeoff."

I laughed. "Okay. Whatever you say."

"Do you want something to drink?" His hand motioned toward a fully stocked bar. "I've got a cocktail how-to book if you try to stump me."

"You're never supposed to admit weakness, Jack!" I stood beside him, eyeing the colorful cover of the book he mentioned.

Become a pro bartender in just six short weeks!

Save money by drinking at home instead of going out!

Be the friend that everyone wants to know!

"Jesus, Jack. Is that book actually about cocktails? It sounds like a self-improvement book."

He gave me a smug look. "Eh, it just had the highest rating online. It's actually not from an infomercial. I expect it to help me get drunk, not get me a promotion."

I giggled some more and tossed it back down on the counter. "Whatever you say, Jack." I couldn't believe how quickly I had gone from turbulence in my life to this beautiful—every glance out the window could have been a separate, unique painting—serene spot in the sky.

"So are you going to place an order or what? I've got other customers to take care of." Jack impatiently tapped his finger on the counter, his eyes glancing at angry invisible customers.

"What, like the pilot? You don't let him drink, do you?" I pretended to be in line with the other non-existent folks.

Jack didn't say anything else and just shrugged. I guess he wasn't going to budge until I gave him my order.

"Okay, okay," I said. "Just give me a gin and tonic. Do you need me to find it in the book?"

He laughed. "Go sit down, Effie." He pointed at the soft microfiber couch as if I hadn't noticed it.

Not seeing the man for a short while made me appreciate his beauty even more. I was immediately feeling that white heat in my core, that lull that made me weak in the knees. God, he did have such a spell over me—he could make me submit to him by doing literally nothing.

I drifted over and sat down, turning my head so that I could see out the window. The skies went on endlessly, the clouds in perfect, puffy formations that resembled anything your mind could imagine. Nothing intimidating or scary about the view. I took a minute to appreciate my situation, to appreciate the world that I had stepped right back into as if I'd never left it at all.

"All right, two gin and tonics, ma'am." Jack handed one my way and I greedily snatched it from him.

"Sir, I only ordered one." I gave him an incredulous look.

"Oh, yeah. This one's for me." He took a quick sip and then put it in the cup holder in the arm of the couch. "I didn't want to open any other bottles, so I copied your idea. I just restocked everything."

Jack sat down close to me, our sides and legs touching. I sipped my own drink and then put it into my matching drink holder. The fact that the couch was symmetrical in that regard pleased me. Although the ride had been smooth thus far, I didn't want to be forced to hold my drink through sudden turbulence.

"So is this private back here?" I asked, hoping to sound innocent. Even though I caught a glimpse of my own ulterior motive, I wasn't entirely sure what it was.

"For the most part. If the pilot ever had to leave the front, he'd buzz me through the intercom. He's not supposed to, though."

"So you've probably had some wild times up here, huh?" I started imagining the no limits possibilities that a rich rock star and his friends could have in a private jet.

"Yeah, but that's never something to be proud of. Or at least I was never proud of it. It was fun, but moving on was even more fun." He gave me a discomfited smile.

Curiosity got the best of me. Obviously, I didn't know anything about this sort of thing, but I had seen those shows about rock 'n' roll overindulgence on TV growing up. "What's the craziest thing you ever did up here?" He didn't respond immediately and I felt bad for asking. "I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away. I don't even know if you did crazy stuff up here."

That same weak smile returned, but this time, it bordered on something happier. "Well, I've only had this plane for a couple of years. But I was in a foursome once. We were all drunk as hell and barely remembered it. We were probably doing more than just alcohol, actually."

My jaw dropped. "Foursome? Was that like you and three girls or what?" I was actually amazed with myself for trying to dig out graphic details like these. Although I was sexual, it wasn't the norm for me to talk candidly about sex.

"Two guys, two girls. We traded girls." He talked as if he was recalling an immature high school senior prank or something. It was surprisingly matter-of-fact as well.

The thought of Jack and some other hot guy seemed to rub me in an unexpectedly good way. "Did you and the guy—"

"No," he said. His tone wasn't defensive. It was just like he was putting out a small fire before it spread any further and became a blaze.

Bummer, I thought. I laughed at myself for going there at all. This was amusing.

"Oh." We both fell silent momentarily. "Was it good? Doing that, I mean?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "It's hard work and kind of gimmicky, but I'm glad I got it out of my system when I was younger. It's not like good sex. It's like sex."

I looked at him with confusion. "I'm not entirely sure what that means."

"Like porn, I guess. You think that's making love or f*cking? It's like using someone else's body to masturbate. I barely knew those girls. They crawled backstage and we brought them along..."

I chuckled awkwardly. "Okay, okay. I get it now."

"When you're with several people like that, you're just trying to make sure everyone gets off. There isn't that connection, even when you're one on one. Especially not when another couple is three feet away grunting and groaning. It's less hot than it sounds."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, of course it sounds bad when you describe it like that."

"I'm just trying to be honest!" he pleaded, grinning now from ear-to-ear.

"Okay." I smiled and nodded. "That makes it a lot clearer." I smiled at him and kissed his cheek, his skin so freshly shaven and smooth. "It's hard to believe that you were ever wild like that."

"I did it all. I'm lucky I didn't kill myself by accident." He shook his head. "That was just a dark time. Everybody has 'em. That was how I dealt with mine."

He was totally right. It made me think of my dad's stories during dinner, stories about people in our small town that bent the rules in a very serious way. Even in the middle of nowhere, people did—and usually got away with—crazy things when they tried to distract themselves from their troubles. In a city like Los Angeles, the distractions were most likely a lot larger.

I remembered my dad's story about the now-high-school principal, driving around the back roads with his cronies doing cocaine in the woods. I just couldn't look at the guy the same after that, even if he had changed his ways. Thankfully, he became principal after I graduated.

The behavior might be to cope with something or explore new possibilities. Or maybe something else entirely. Sitting here with Jack, drinking cocktails on private jet, I just couldn't imagine reaching such a bleak point. I knew that didn't mean anything, but it was enough for now.

"What about you, Effie? Done anything crazy? Something you're keeping from me?"

I paused, sifting through the archives of memories in my head. What should I offer him?

"I kissed some girls when I was drunk. I'm not sure if I liked it or not." Basic, but true.

"Ooh, hot," he said.

"You pig. Every guy says stuff like that." I feigned disgust.

"Well, yeah, because it's hot. You're attractive, and the hot thought of you kissing some other hot girls happens to be hot."

"Jack!" I was laughing even though I wanted to appear irritated. "How do you know the other girls were hot?"

"Just a guess. Seems like you'd have high standards for something like that." His gin and tonic was almost gone even though I'd barely seen him put the glass up to his lips.

I immediately thought of my roommates, Carly and Angela—the ones I had kissed—and realized Jack was right. "Whatever. It wasn't a serious thing. Why are we talking about this?"

"Because I know you were thinking about me and the other guy. That's the only reason why you asked. I'm just trying to figure out what makes you tick, Effie."

Heat flushed my cheeks. Dammit! How did he know? "No way!" I said, adamantly pleading my case. I wasn't sure why him knowing about me thinking that was such an issue for me, but it was.

"I've never seen you redder before. Just admit it." Jack had found a slick way out. The smile that accompanied his words was wicked and distracting.

Regardless of what he said, I did feel tense about the idea for no good reason. "Dammit." I crossed my arms over my shoulders, a straightjacket hug, and held them there, trying to relax myself.

"You don't need to feel ashamed about it, Effie. You can trust me, tell me anything. I want to hear your desires." He leaned forward and nuzzled my neck. "I want you to open up to me."

The redness in my cheeks immediately changed into a very different sort of heat. "Like... fantasies?" I asked shyly.

"Exactly," he said. "You know, sometimes people just aren't satisfied and they never speak up. I don't want that to happen to us."

I gulped, suddenly worried that Jack was into something really crazy. "You're not, like, into whipping and stuff, are you?" My voice came out so meekly, so weak.

He laughed and set his empty glass down. "No, no. Nothing too crazy. I like to be a little aggressive now and then, but nothing serious. I'm talking about things you'd like to do but probably never will. Is there anything?"

I started thinking about having my wrists tied while Jack had his way with me. It was a thought that I really liked, but it was unusual, for sure.

"Effie?"

"What?" His words startled me.

"What really turns you on? Don't be ashamed about anything." His hands framed my face as he gazed deep into my eyes.

His question felt like an injection in my arm, slowly melting me from the inside. This gorgeous guy was sitting here, drilling me about sex—in the hottest way possible. Those green eyes were so hypnotizing, a sea worth swimming in—or drowning in.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't really have fantasies like that."

"What about when you're alone? What do you think about?"

I tensed up again. "Sex. I mean, I... I guess I never really..." Damn, I just didn't know what to say. I couldn't seem to elaborate at all—and I wasn't sure what was holding me back. I wasn't a prude, but then again, this wasn't easy, either.

"Effie, don't be ashamed. I masturbate like everyone else. It's a normal thing. I just want to be open with you. If it makes you too uncomfortable, you don't have to say anything."

A nervous laugh escaped me as I shuffled things around in my brain like a deck of cards. Who was I kidding? "Fine," I grunted. "I do it, but not a lot. And it's actually hot when someone like you does it."

Jack leaned in close and kissed me, a kiss that warmed me all the way down to my toes. The gesture immediately made me think of the mile high club and what we could get away with on this plane. "And it's not hot when you do it? What makes you so sure of that?" His intensity was firm, unrelenting.

"I don't know," I said. He was forcing me to consider things I had never considered before. I was exploring a part of me that was wholly unfamiliar.

"Have you ever done that for someone? Touched yourself? Made yourself come while they watched you?" His breath was so warm against my earlobe. The tickling sensation made me shiver. On top of everything else, the prominent and growing hardness I felt against my thigh nearly stole my breath entirely.

"No, I haven't." Jack was making it clear what he wanted, and although it was new territory for me, something about it was dangerously hot.

"Do you know actually what it looks like when a girl does that?"

I conjured up disjointed yet provoking images of internet porn in my head. They were mindless, hyperbolic images of sex. "It's kind of gross."

"Are you thinking about porn, Effie? Because that stuff's nothing like the real thing. Porn is kind of gross."

"I don't get why it's so hot, though." I was saying one thing and thinking another. Jack was physically touching me, but he wasn't touching me like that—and it was really making me want to touch myself. Had he hypnotized me somehow? Given the circumstances and the direction of the conversation, it almost seemed reasonable.

"They did a survey," Jack said proudly. "Of what people look at when they're watching porn. What do you think most guys looked at?"

His question instantly lightened my mood, my tension rapidly evaporating. "Well, boobs, obviously. Probably asses too." I felt pretty confident about my guess.

"Wrong!" Jack shouted. "The majority of the men watched the woman's eyes and face."

"You're such a liar!" I shoved him playfully—after verifying that he wasn't holding his drink.

"I'm not kidding!" he said. "It was a real study. Guess what the women looked at?"

"Are you just trying to humiliate us girls?" I asked. "Did they look at legs? Pecs? Biceps? Faces?"

Jack gave me a wry smile. "They looked at penises. No joke."

"Was this a real study?" I asked, my voice full of bemusement. "Did you make this up?"

Jack started laughing. "I couldn't be more serious. It just proves my point. It is hot when a real girl—not some plastic porn star who’s pretending—touches herself."

I still wasn't sure how this all fit together other than vaguely. "I'm still not totally with you."

"Watching a girl pleasure herself is best when you watch her face. You see that expression, that feeling that's all hers, all inside her head. A woman says so much with her face. The other stuff is nice too, but the face is the best part."

I was starting to understand his point. God, imagining Jack's hand pumping up and down on his cock made me want to melt though. Those lean muscles he would use as he did it, and yeah, that look on his face as he went faster and faster. It almost made me sweat.

"Will you do it for me, Effie?" The words flowed effortlessly from his lips, no hang-ups or indecision present at all.

"Do what?" I thought I knew what he meant, but I still played dumb.

"I want you to make yourself come for me. I want to watch." His breathing deepened quickly, as if speaking the words had been enough to light him on fire.

"Right now?" I looked around as if I was searching for intruders. "Up here? What about the pilot?"

"He's not coming back. I'll get naked too." All it took was him unbuttoning his shirt to sway me to his side. Jesus, his chiseled chest and muscles made my insides turn to hot liquid. Being without him for a few days had really done a number on me in terms of self-control.

His pants crumpled on the floor, his boxers did literally nothing to conceal his full arousal. It was so hard and firm, and yet I was still fully dressed. Yeah, all he could see was the look on my face...

I unzipped the back of my dress and stood up, pulling it off at once. Instantly, I was left with nothing but my matching blue bra and panties. Jack's eyes hungrily traced along the soft curves of my body, memorizing what he saw.

Before we went any further, he met me with a deep kiss, one that jumbled my insides up even worse. My tongue fought his as he wrapped his arms around my back, fitting my body to his, encouraging me back onto the couch. He explored every interior surface of my mouth—and I explored his.

Again in a sitting position, he began to unclasp my bra, but stopped at first, running his tongue along my cleavage, tasting and tickling. He finishing unclasping and then took my breasts in his hands, one by one, molding them perfectly into his grip. Jack tweaked each nipple, pinching slightly, but stopping right before it became painful. I continued kissing him, filled with desperate need.

My surprising arousal was snowballing out of control and I desperately needed something to happen. Jack slid his fingers under the elastic waistband and then dragged my panties slowly down my legs, taking his sweet time and driving me mad. Honestly, I was so worked up and I just had no idea where this was leading.

Was he about to f*ck me? What about the whole pleasuring myself for him?

Christ, if he kept working me up like this, I was going to have a hard time saying no to anything.

"Spread your legs, Effie. I want to see that beautiful p-ssy of yours."

"I thought you said f-f-faces," I whispered, fighting back a smile.

"All of you is beautiful—and I want to see everything." Fine, Jack, you win.

I moved apprehensively, but it was still movement. His fingers crawled along the soft flesh of my inner thighs and approached my mound, so painfully close to my swollen *.

They reached it right away, and my body reacted, tightening around his fingers. My mind was swimming in vivid images of sex, my eyes locked with Jack's.

His movement was gentle, however, almost indirect. He was just teasing me, warming me up so that I'd have to do it for him whenever he decided to stop—and I knew I'd never be able to say no after he got me started. No, you couldn't just stop an avalanche once it began.

The movements of my heaving chest grew more and more exaggerated as my breath fled as quickly as it arrived. His fingers gently plunged into my wetness, parting my lips and setting me on fire. He was going so easy, playing a game that was driving me wild. I couldn't believe I was doing this, whatever it was.

The weird thing was that Jack could make me come damn near instantly, and here he was, carrying out some sort of sadistic slow burn in the middle of the sky. I was feeling both strung-out and incredible, my mind as far away from my troubles as possible.

"Touch yourself for me now, Effie. Make yourself come." His voice had grown huskier, and it caromed inside my head.

Damn you, Jack.

"Okay," I mumbled softly. Noticing that his boxers were gone—having a hot naked person around when you're also naked is helpful—gave me a small glimmer of hope.

He gently took my hand in his own, slowly switching their places as he relinquished control and led my fingers as they pressed against that sensitive flesh. I closed my eyes and started slowly at first, trying to remember what I did when I was all alone in my bed. Even though it normally came so naturally, the situation was so foreign that I wasn't entirely sure what to do.

"I want you to spread your legs wide for me, Effie," Jack said. "I want to watch everything. Will you do that?"

"Yes," I whispered. I spoke before really realizing what he had asked.

He seemed to catch himself, worried that he may have crossed a line. "If it's too much, you don't have to. I'm... sorry." It was that reassurance that seemed to make me even more willing to go the distance.

"No, I want to. Really." While I wasn't lying, I also wasn't sure just how much of the truth I was actually telling. Something beyond rational thought was controlling my body. Raging lust, I guess.

I did what he requested, spreading my legs until I knew he could see everything. After briefly opening my eyes and peeking at him, I started to get nervous again. He was in front of me, and I stared at his cock throbbing between his legs. I had never seen a hungrier look on his face. It was killing me.

I closed my eyes again and circled my fingers against my *, trying my damndest to bring something out of myself for Jack. Everything seemed to be so intuitive and raw, yet I seemed to be struggling.

"Relax, Effie. I don't think you realize how f*cking beautiful you are. And how lucky I am."

God, his words were like beautiful music. I felt sexy, exposed, feminine, beautiful, owned. I was on display for him, totally compromised and trusting. I kept touching, feeling, exploring my tender flesh, trying to give him what he wanted. I was willingly cooperating but struggling to put out my own internal fires of indecision.

"Have you used a vibrator?" Jack asked suddenly.

"No," I said, temporarily distracted from my efforts. My opened eyes brought me back to the room.

"Close your eyes," he said. He slid his body next to mine on the couch.

I heard a quiet buzzing sound, and then his arm reached across my belly. When it touched my *, my whole body tingled at once, the pleasurable surprise nearly knocking the wind out of me. He was holding it there against me, sending me into a pleasurable frenzy.

"You take it now. It's all yours."

I brought my hand over his and gratefully took the vibrator, keeping it in place the best I could. I felt his body move away from mine, presumably so he could get a better view from the front.

The feeling was really something else. That bundle of nerves was twitching so quickly, the sensation so rapid and direct. In that moment, it made total sense why women used these damn things.

"Oh, God," I moaned, unable to contain myself. This was so raw. The directness of it stripped away my insecurities since my mind was excessively distracted by stimuli.

"F*ck, Effie," I heard Jack moan. "You are so f*cking hot."

I was feeling and imagining so much, my body contorting as pleasure swept through me. I was battling to keep my legs spread as my back arched and flexed. Lush gasps escaped freely from my lips, the most vocal I had ever been whilst doing something like this. Suddenly, I wasn't afraid to hold anything back, wasn't afraid to give everything to Jack.

I slid a finger into my tightness, probing and pressing to complement what was already going on. My hips rocked back and forth as I imagined Jack's thrusts, the most sensible thing I could imagine given what was going on. Even though he wasn't physically involved at this point, I was still totally content.

I was so close to coming, so quickly manipulated by this newfound device. Jack was groaning loudly as well; I opened my eyes to see his hand rapidly sliding up and down on his shaft, watching me like a hawk.

Our eyes met and he saw as deeply into me as I saw into him. Unsatisfied with his position, he climbed back onto the couch and wrapped his arm around me, still maintaining a steady stroking motion. His support intact, my body went limp against his warm skin.

He was watching me while he did that, watching my pleasure and translating it into his own. "Jack, I'm gonna come," I gasped.

"Watch me as you do it."

Lying hard against the couch, I turned my head and stared into his eyes, our faces only a foot or so apart. He was pumping frenetically down below, the carnal image something I only caught in my peripheral vision.

"Oh, Jack!" I cried out, pleasure spilling through me like a dam breaking. I shivered and twitched against him, my heart almost popping right out of my chest. I kept watching his eyes, and it was torment, sweet, sweet torment. They were possessed with something not unlike predatory resolve.

He started groaning too, a primal, uninhibited sound that I wasn't entirely familiar with. This was different, even though it was indeed purely sexual. When we were f*cking, his sounds were like something else, something in another language compared to this.

I felt a spurt of his seed as it struck my belly, his arm flexed and tight as he kept going. His expression said nothing but you're all mine. I was so wrapped up in my own climax that I didn't feel the rest of his finale.

My * suddenly overwhelmed, I pressed the button on the vibrator and tossed it aside. I felt something like physical desperation—and Jack felt it too.

He took me in his arms and hugged me tightly, our bodies contorting together. We were both breathing deeply and his breaths were only interrupted as he peppered my cheeks with light kisses.

"Effie, that was so hot, so perfect. You're so f*cking perfect. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." The words came out as one long stream.

Hearing him say that made me feel more than elated. I felt like I was on cloud nine, like I had won a lifetime achievement award and thousands of people were applauding me. He had pushed my boundaries and ensured that I felt good about it no matter what. It felt like progress.

"Dammit, Jack." I was starting to feel choked up. I had never been assaulted with so many compliments in my life, especially not when my guard was so lowered. He had free reign to do anything he liked with me, and I couldn't do a thing about it. "I missed you so much," I said, sadness in my voice.

What else could I do when he was making me feel so good about myself, so good about us?

Nothing felt wrong about saying it. There were no tinges of feeling vulnerable or clingy or too attached. I knew it was the right thing to say and both my body and mind lauded my choice.

"I missed you too." He kissed me again and lightly stroked my hair from my scalp all the way to my shoulder, taking me in yet again

The sunbeams were flooding through the windows and settling on our fully exposed bodies. Even though I had been tense only a short while before, I was more relaxed than I had ever been in my life. I had to fight the urge to cry, to wail like a baby because I felt like somehow I had made a mistake.

"Why did I—" I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought to maintain my composure.

"Shh," Jack said. "Just let it go for now."

It was tough, but with him there, I did let it go.