“Faith,” I said when she reached the door.
She stopped and turned back. God damn, she was hot. She had on a cashmere sweater, a light cotton dress, and her hair was tied back. If I could have got up and grabbed her, I would have. I’d have lifted her onto the ice cream counter and taken her right then and there.
“I’ve got more wines to show you. We should get together some time so that you can try them.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“I mean, strictly for professional purposes,” I said with a wink.
She smiled knowingly. “Strictly for professional purposes,” she agreed.
I looked her over from head to toe. Every bit of her was perfect. It was like she’d been sculpted by God’s own hand, just to torture me. I couldn’t help it. My body hungered for her like a raging need. I needed her. I had to have her.
She came back over to me.
“Why don’t you come over in an hour,” she said. “And bring some wine.”
I nodded. I’d take that offer. It was an offer to the most delicious pleasure in the world—Faith’s body.
She went back to the door.
“Bye, Sam,” I said.
“Bye, Jackson,” he said.
I watched them leave. When they were gone I looked down at my hand. It was trembling.
My son. I’d met my son.
Chapter 41
Jackson
WHEN I PULLED UP OUTSIDE Faith’s house an hour later, I had a strange feeling. It was like déjà vu. Something about the situation felt familiar, as if it was something I’d done before, in a prior life. It was almost as if it was destiny. It just felt right, like it was meant to happen.
Her house was beautiful. However she’d done it, Faith was doing well for herself. I had such respect for the life she’d created in my absence. It was a modern house with beautiful stonework and large windows overlooking the mountainside. You could see down into the vineyard of the valley, and toward the west you could even see the ocean. The mist in the morning must have been stunning.
I grabbed the case of wine bottles from the back of the truck and went to the door.
“Come on in,” Faith called.
I opened the door and stepped inside. The house was nice—high ceilings, panoramic vistas, high quality fixtures. There was a gas fire on, despite the fact that it was eighty degrees outside. I took it as a good sign.
Faith was nowhere to be seen.
I walked across a beautiful white rug to the window and looked down into the valley. I could have seen my own vineyard if the sun was up.
From behind me I heard Faith’s sultry voice. “I just put Sam down.”
“We’ll keep the noise down,” I said, turning.
When I turned—boy. That’s all I can say. She looked like something out a dream, or a fantasy. How the hell had I gotten myself into that house with her? It felt too good to be true. She’d let her hair down and it flowed over her shoulders like a river over a waterfall. She’d touched up her make up. Her eyes were definitely smokier than they’d been earlier. The dress she was wearing was like a thin piece of lace, draped over her body perfectly.
She had such style, such fashion. She blew me away. I felt underdressed as I stood there looking at her.
“You just going to stand there?” she said.
“Sorry.” I was falling over my words. “I just, Faith, you look lovely.”
“Thank you,” she said, not quite as shy as she’d been before.
“Really lovely,” I repeated.
She smiled. “You said that already.”
“You’ve got me lost for words.”
She pointed at the couch. “Have a seat,” she said. “I see you brought the wine.”
“There’s some white,” I said, taking a seat. “We should put that in the fridge.”
She went into the kitchen with the crate of wine and came back with a bottle and two glasses. My cock was vibrating in my pants. It was so hungry for her I didn’t know if I’d be able to restrain myself. All I wanted was to jump on her.
She sat down on the other end of the couch, about four feet of empty space between us.
All I could do was look at her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I really don’t think I can drink any wine right now.”
“How come?”
“How come? Are you kidding me?” I said, indicating her. “Look at you. You’re like a vision from a dream.”
She giggled. She had such a girlish laugh. It was strange. When I looked at her, I didn’t see a mother, I saw a little girl, and I was desperate to fuck her. I was bigger than her. I was physically stronger. To me she was a child, waiting to be taken.
I moved across the couch closer to her.
“Jackson Jones,” she said teasingly. “Are you trying to take advantage of me in my own home?”
I smiled. “I do believe I am.”
“Luring me into this with your delicious wine,” she said.
“I can think of something much more delicious.”