I point to my front door. “Mouse,” I mumble meekly.
He balks at me. And then he laughs. He fucking laughs. I don’t know why. This is about as funny as a nasty rash. I look at him, releasing a scowl of epic proportions, and manage to see through my fear and irritation that he’s absolutely in bits, his hands holding his stomach. He looks so fucking handsome. Delightfully so. The fact that he’s simply here is enough to cause another meltdown. With his infectious smile and the sound of his laugh, I’m in trouble. Jack…and a mouse. Two meltdowns happening all at once will probably kill me.
He looks at my shaking form across the road, smiling brightly, his face alive with happiness, and my world starts spinning wildly out of control at the sight.
I’m screaming on the inside. Positively falling apart, and the mouse is only half the reason why. Jack, the mouse…and that familiar sizzle of electricity bouncing between our bodies. He finally finds the will to calm his amusement, and realization dawns on his face. The scene, him standing on one side of the road, me on the other. Staring at each other. Tension. Want.
The silence lingers painfully. I can’t deal with it, but before I can speak to move things along, Jack does. “Where in the kitchen should I look?”
My relief that he’s keeping this business, so to speak, is obvious. I exhale deeply. “It ran behind the cupboard by the double doors.”
“Are you okay out here on your own?” he asks. I can see so many things he wants to say in his gray eyes, and I silently beg that he doesn’t.
“I think it’s safer for me to stay out here,” I say quietly, knowing he understands the hidden meaning in my statement. A mouse in my apartment is enough to keep me out. Jack in my apartment, too, makes it the most hazardous zone ever.
I remain where I am as he slowly makes his way up to the open doorway and strides down the hallway with no hesitation or caution.
His back.
Solid and wide.
My fingers scraping into his flesh as he drives into…
My hands come up and encase my head, my fingers clawing into my scalp like they can squish the thoughts. He’s in my apartment. I turn away from my front door, looking up to the sky as I battle to stop my fortitude from disintegrating. This week has been fucking exhausting. I need it to be over so I can spend all weekend getting trashed and restocking on willpower quickly before I flake. Before I venture into forbidden territory.
It feels like hours of waiting. Hours of holding on to my conscience. Hours of remaining where I am and keeping my thoughts in check. Hours of running through every reason why he’s not to be touched. Thought of. Admired.
I wrap my arms around my body and turn back toward my apartment entrance, listening carefully for any bangs that will signal the demise of the mouse. I hear nothing. I’m standing in the street, in a skimpy summer dress, not even any damn shoes on my feet. The temperature has dropped a little, enough to make me start shivering.
Jack eventually appears in the doorway. “Gone,” he says simply, but this news doesn’t relax me like it should, because there’s still another hazard looming.
“You killed it?”
He nods, holding me where I am with his hard, hooded stare.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, studying him, definitely detecting that he’s deep in thought. Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask. I need to get back into my apartment without engaging with him, which could prove tricky when he’s blocking the doorway and looking like he has no intention of shifting to let me in.
I take long, confident strides across the road, hoping he’ll be wise and move before I make it to my door. He doesn’t. If anything, he widens his stance, his body now completely filling the entrance. “Thank you for your help,” I say politely, forcing myself to look at him so he can see the resolve in my eyes. As always, it’s a mistake, but I work hard to keep myself in check and disregard his lovely face.
“Annie,” he breathes. “I’m struggling so badly.”
“I’m not doing this.” I swallow, pushing my way past him. He grabs me by the top of my arm and holds me in place. “Let me go, Jack.”
“I’ve already told you I can’t do that. Annie, I’m drowning here. I’m going out of my mind, and the more time I spend with you, the fucking worse it’s getting. Listening to you, talking to you, sharing a passion with you that goes way beyond the amazing time we had in bed together.”
“You have to forget!” I yell, knowing anger is the only way forward. Be angry with him. Let it dominate me and rule me, because the alternative scares me to fucking death.
He pushes me into the hall and slams the door behind us, forcing me to back up. “No,” he says, straight and even. “No,” he repeats, moving one more step forward, except this time I don’t retreat. Because I can’t. Because he has me locked in place with those gray eyes, and now they’re back to their full glory. Sparkling, even if it’s with anger. He reaches for his shirt and starts unbuttoning it before shrugging it off and throwing it to the floor, revealing the chest that’s haunting me.
I quickly look down at the pile of material, my mind reeling. His chest. His perfect damn chest. “What are you doing?”
“I have no fucking idea.” He reaches for me and slides a hand around my neck, pulling me to him. Our chests meet, and my determination to repel him vanishes under our connection. Wrongs turn into rights. Conflict turns into craving.
“I can’t get you out of my head, Annie.” His forehead meets mine, his palm massaging away the tightness in my neck muscles, softening me up until I relax in his hold. “I want you all over again, and I can’t even find the will to worry about how much more that’ll make me want you.” He breathes down on me. “I’ve played that night on repeat. I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms again. I’ve craved the sound of your voice, the feel of your touch, the softness of your lips on mine. I know I shouldn’t want you. But I do. Nothing has ever made me feel this insane with need. Nothing has taken up so much space in my head. I can’t fucking help it, Annie.” His gray gaze sinks into me, my heart steadying to an even thrum. His head starts to shake mildly, his splayed hand moving up to the back of my head and fisting my hair. “I don’t want to help it,” he growls. “I want you. I don’t care how wrong it is.” His clenched fist tightens, gripping my hair harshly. “I know I’ve been on your mind since I fucked you every which way in that hotel room. Stop denying it. Don’t insult me and tell me you don’t crave that amazing feeling all over again. I can see it in your eyes every damn time I look into them. You. Want. Me.”
It’s me who moves in first. All me. I lunge forward and smash my lips to his, the magnetic force winning. His words winning. Jack winning. My heart winning. I coax his mouth open with hard, hungry kisses. I’ve lost my mind to a craving too powerful to fight off. And, like Jack, I don’t care how wrong it is.
Lost.