She looked away.
We sat at the back of the truck, our backs against the cab. I’d brought our wineglasses from the bar and set them in front of us.
“What do you want to try first?” I said.
“You choose?”
I looked at her for a second. It was a surreal moment. The moon was shining above us. We were outside the house I’d grown up in. We had a child together, and yet it was as if we were two strangers. We were soulmates who’d been forced apart for over a decade. It reminded me of those stories of twins separated at birth. Somehow, they maintain a deep connection, despite the fact they’ve been kept apart their whole lives. There was heat in the air but it wasn’t oppressive. Crickets were chirping for twenty miles in every direction and they created a comforting din, like the sound of the ocean.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she said.
“You’re beautiful, Faith.”
Her lips were like the blush on a ripe cherry. Her eyes looked into mine and the connection between us was like that between two people who’d known each other their entire lives. We weren’t strangers. We were lovers. We always had been, and we always would be. At that moment, the only thing that existed in the entire universe was her.
Nothing mattered, except that we were both there, under the stars, drinking wine and looking into each other’s eyes.
I opened a bottle of Merlot and poured two glasses.
She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip.
“What do you think?” I said.
“What do I think?” she repeated thoughtfully. “Jackson, what are we doing out here? What are you going to do to me?”
Chapter 32
Faith
I DRANK THE WINE. I needed it. Nothing like this had happened to me in a very long time.
I’d once been the wild girl, the girl that hooked up with the bad boys, but for the last twelve years I’d been a wallflower. No guy so much as looked at me. They could tell I wasn’t interested. It was like Jackson had marked me somehow, and other men could sense it. I’d gone from being the wildest thing at the party to being a complete wallflower. I was the designated driver, the one who went home early. Something told me tonight was going to be different. I’d finally be the Faith I’d been a long time ago. I’d be the girl that got the guy.
For the second time in my life, I was getting picked up by Jackson Jones, and it was a thrill.
As I sat there with him in the back of the truck, his muscular body right next to me, the thoughts of what he was going to do to me became increasingly vivid.
I was scared, but there was no way in hell I wasn’t going through with this. We’d committed to each other a long time ago. This was just an inevitable part of the journey. A very long time ago, Jackson had told me there would be no going back. I’d believed that. And I would hold him to his word.
I decided to let go of my inhibitions. Whatever was going to happen, and I could feel that something was definitely going to happen, I would embrace it.
I’d already put in the time. I’d waited long enough. I remembered Jackson as a wild passionate lover, and I was ready to submit to his powerful body. Whatever he wanted from me, I would give him.
He opened another bottle of wine, I didn’t even notice which one.
“You want me to try and find buyers for this wine in the city?” I said.
Jackson shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s been Grant’s department up until now. I don’t want to make plans without speaking to him.”
“Well speak to him. Lacey and I could create quite a stir with this.”
I took another sip.
We sat there, drinking the wine, looking up at the stars, and then it came. Exactly what I knew was coming. What I’d been praying would come. You don’t get into the back of a truck with a man like Jackson Jones and not expect something to happen.
His hand was on my thigh.
His strong, masculine hand, was on my smooth, succulent thigh.
My mind flashed back twelve years, to the first time he touched me at the motel. I shuddered with desire.
I was wearing a short, black dress. I’d always been proud of my legs. They were my best feature. I was glad he started on them. I was terrified of letting him down. A lot had changed with my body in twelve years. I’d given birth to a child. I wasn’t the twenty-year-old he remembered.
I looked at him.
It was strange. There was something intense and real about the look in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought maybe it was love.
Love.
Where did we stand on that question? I didn’t know.
I loved him. I loved him with all my heart and I had ever since he’d given me his son, but did he love me? He said he’d been loyal to me for all the years we were apart. Did that mean we were in love? I hoped it did.