Freeing Destiny (Fate #2) (11 page)

I wanted him to pursue me while we still had time.

Taking my hand in his, he placed one finger under my chin and turned my face in his direction. “What I think is that you’re a phenomenal kisser. And I plan on doing a lot more of that tonight and all the other nights until you leave—maybe even some of that kissing will convince you
not
to go. But in the meantime, we’re going back to my place, we’re going to order whatever you want to eat, then relax and watch a movie or whatever makes you comfortable. As long as we get to spend time together . . . there’s no rush.”

The saddened look in his eyes told me that last part was a lie. It was painfully obvious that we were running out of time. I hated it. There were so many things I wished for in that moment—the ability to freeze the clock, or travel back in time, or to have an endless do-over of the last few days with Jack on a repeat reel. It felt like some odd and cruel twist of fate. What kind of messed up destiny would throw Jack in my path
now
?

Forgoing all the bitter thoughts playing out in my frazzled brain, I nodded in answer to Jack’s questioning eyes. “Okay. I like the sound of that.”

It was time to abandon plans and worries and strategies. The only thing I planned on doing from here on out was whatever I felt was right—in the moment. I wanted to kiss him again, and if kissing led to more then I was ready for that, too. Jack was right when he said all that mattered was that we spent the time we did have together. The memories would be worth it, even if it meant hurting in their absence.

“This movie sucks, dude.” I was trying not to yawn through Jack’s movie suggestion—his all-time favorite.

His jaw dropped, mid-chew, flashing a mouthful of pizza. Assessing my disgusted expression, he snapped his mouth shut, swallowed and then threw a crumpled up napkin at my forehead. The paper connected before I could deflect it, but I didn’t flinch.

“Are you joking? What kind of Italian doesn’t like
The Godfather
? I’m appalled by you—you, you . . . imposter.”

I couldn’t contain my laughter because Jack was truly shocked by my disrespect for the classic mobster film. What could I say? It wasn’t my thing. I was a romantic and there was nothing romantic about a dead horse’s head in someone’s bed.

Raising my hands in defense, I giggled. “Sorry, babe. I’m just being honest.”

“Say that again.” His long lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he blinked his eyes. His smile grew wide as he waited for me to speak.

“Say
what
again? That I’m just being honest or that the movie sucks?” What was the big deal? I was confused.

“No, not that.” His eyes remained closed as he shook his head. “Call me babe again. It sounds so delicious coming from your mouth.”

Oh.
That.
We’d managed to keep things platonic since settling in at his apartment. He showed me around, we chatted about his impressive music collection—all LPs that he listened to on an old record player—which added to his mystique—and we’d ordered a pizza. It was all very casual, comfortable, easy. Up until now.

Now, all I could think about was the way he kissed me in his car. The way it felt to be held by him, even if only in the confines of the small space. I wanted his lips on mine again, his hands caressing my skin, but I worried that without any boundaries I’d let it go further than I was ready for. I didn’t want to lead him on, but I didn’t necessarily want things to stay PG. This was one of those times I was supposed to allow my heart to think for my head.

I started with giving in to Jack’s request, because seeing him so excited by that one little word made my heart happy. “You like it when I call you babe? It’s so boring compared to the beautiful nickname you gave me.”

“Stella, I like it when you call me anything—other than Jacky pants, of course. It might’ve just been a slip of the tongue, but it still sounded like velvet.”

How could he make something so simple sound so seductive? Letting go of all my earlier inhibitions, I played into his hand and followed his lead. Maybe I could impress him and kick up the spice a bit. “Did you know I speak French?”

His eyes popped wider as he rubbed his hands together. “Um, no! Say something. Anything.”

I thought about reciting the popular risqué lyrics to the Patti Labelle song, knowing that it translated to
do you want to sleep with me tonight
, but instead I mustered up a sultry accent and said, “Pouvez-vous s’il vous plaît passer le beurre.” I’d kind of lied when I told him I could
speak
French.
Please pass the butter
was one of the only phrases I’d remembered from Madame Taylor’s tenth grade lessons.

Jack’s expression went from vacant to wicked as he spoke in the most beautiful French I’d ever heard. “Oui, mon amour. Je serais plus qu’heureux de passer le beurre puis barbouiller sur tout votre corps sexy.”

All I could decipher were the words
amour
which meant love, and
sexy
which had to translate to it’s equal in English.
Crap!
I walked right into that one, didn’t I?

Playfully pushing his shoulder, I conceded. “What did you say?”

“For me to know and you to find out, Beau Soleil.”

I understood the term of endearment; I was his beautiful sun, his Sunshine. Hearing it in any language made me smile.

“Where’d you learn it? You speak it so well.” I was intrigued. Yet another layer of Jack to unravel. Every time I uncovered something new, my veneration for him grew deeper.

“My mom. Her mother was born in France and spoke only French for years until she had Mom, and then didn’t want to seem like some ignorant immigrant. Ironically, my mother insisted she only speak her native language when she was around me and my sisters growing up. We picked it up. And the look on your face just now was worth the years of torture from Grandmère Claudette.” Jack wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke. I loved playful Jack. He set me at ease, even while my nerves were sparking with excitement under my skin.

“Say something else,” I begged, hungry for more of his seductive charm.

Pinching his thumbs to his other four fingers in a European-like gesture, he feigned his best Marlon Brando chin and garbled voice, “Je vais vous faire une offre que vous ne pouvez pas refuser.”

I threw my head back as I laughed heartily. I understood a few of his words and made it out to be the most popular line from
The Godfather
—‘I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.’ I wished I knew how to retaliate in this language he knew so well. But in that moment, I knew what
I
had to offer him in hopes
he
wouldn’t refuse.

“How do you say kiss me in French, Jack?”

Inching closer, he placed his hand on my cheek and stroked a calloused thumb along my lower lip. “How about I show you instead?”

Stella

My breath hitched at this words. Somehow the English sentence was sexier than anything he could’ve said in French.

Gazing into his clear blue eyes, I willed him to lean in and gift me with another magical kiss. The one from the car was perfect, but I’d been nervous and caught off guard. Now I was ready and couldn’t wait a second longer.

Jack must’ve sensed my urgency, or felt the same necessity to be touched, because he inched closer to me, one hand on my cheek, the other holding one of my nerve-dampened hands. The tip of his nose nuzzled against mine and with the slightest sound of him inhaling the tension between us, he dipped lower and our lips met.

His lips were soft and experienced, coaxing me to loosen my reserve. I relaxed into the mesmerizing spell that took over my senses as our tongues danced together in a smooth rhythm. Between slow silk-like caresses and playful nibbles, I felt the walls around my careful heart break apart into tiny fragments. I was okay with that. Somehow Jack owned a little piece of what I’d kept guarded for so long—what I hadn’t given to anyone. There was no harm in accepting what the heart wanted. And mine wanted Jack.

Repositioning myself, our mouths still linked together, I nudged a knee between Jack’s legs and pressed against his chest as I lowered myself on top of him. A throaty growl escaped him and the vibration against my mouth sent tingles to all the right places.

Wordless and panting, our kiss deepened—hands roamed, hearts pounded, body parts ground feverishly. This was the part in the movie where the woman ripped the man’s clothes off and begged him to take her. Right? So why couldn’t I muster up the nerve to do what my body begged of me?

“Stella . . .” Jack moaned. His hands cupped my ass and pushed me against his impressive erection.

“Yes?” I wished my voice wasn’t so weak. For once I wanted to at least
sound
in control, but I was still scared to let go of this part of me. I feared what the consequences would entail.

“Can we go to my bedroom?” His question was a raw whisper, his plea soaked in desperation. I wanted so badly to say yes, but I needed him to know the truth first.

What a buzzkill this would be.

Pressing against him, wishing this friction of our bodies was enough to tame our hunger tonight, I spoke against his lips. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

His body tensed beneath me and I hid my face in the crook of his neck, wrapping my arms around him. Maybe I could hide from this a few more minutes. Was that too much to ask? Never in my life had I been so mortified by my lack of sexual experience. I knew the kind of man Jack was and once I revealed I was a virgin, he’d think of me differently. He’d want to be careful with me. His actions would be thought-out and calculated instead of spontaneous and heated. I wanted my first experience to be one I’d always remember—like those books Aunt Gina read and the way Nina gushed over her experiences with Ryan. God damn it, was it crazy that I didn’t want him to go slow or treat me as if I’d crack in two?

Freeing me of my internal mental breakdown, Jack scooted over so our bodies faced each other. “What is it, Stella? Are you okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” I lied.

“Talk to me, Sunshine.”

God, he was so patient. Not an ounce of frustration laced his words. He was a good man. The kind I’d waited for—the reason I was still a virgin. There weren’t many like him. In that moment, I knew it would be okay if I told him. So without any sugarcoating, I did. “When I told you in the car I’d never done this before, I meant sex, Jack. I’ve never slept with a guy before.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath.
There. That was off my chest.
When I opened them again I expected the world to look differently—cataclysmic events were sure to have taken place. But no, none of that existed in this sacred moment between Jack and me.

His eyes didn’t don pity or remorse; they gleamed with understanding and dare I say it, more desire than they had before. “You really are like sunshine. So pure and warm. I never would’ve guessed because someone as beautiful as you probably has guys lined around the block to be with you, but I should’ve known.”

I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or some flaw in me he’d managed to point out. It made me feel vulnerable until he wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear, “We can wait. I won’t take that from you until you’re sure.
If
you’re sure. For now, this is enough, Stella. Being here with you is always enough.”