Love Left Behind (16 page)

Jackson stirred
feelings in me that scared and exhilarated me. He made me feel safe, yet our
passion was off the charts. He was kind and made me feel cherished yet he could
have me laughing my head off. I had joked earlier that Jackson must have done
something good in his life to have met me, but the truth was I was the lucky
one. And I knew it wasn't because I had done something good in my life. The
heartbreak I had left behind in Merrittsville was proof of that. But I promised
myself that I would make myself deserving of someone as wonderful as Jackson.

"What are you
thinking about?" Jackson asked. He had finished his plate and was lying
down on the blanket, his arm folded behind his head as a pillow.

"I'm thinking
about all the hours I'll have to put in the gym after all the food I've been
eating." I set my empty plate down and stretched out my legs. "I'm
stuffed."

Jackson hooked his
finger in the belt loop of my jeans and pulled me closer to him. I lay down
next to him, nestling my head in the warm area between his chin and shoulder as
he wrapped his arm around me. I breathed in his scent and gave him a quick kiss
on his neck, wrapping an arm around his waist. He responded by kissing me on
the top of my head and I thought I would burst with happiness.

Time passed by as we
lay contentedly, not talking, simply just enjoying the day and the closeness of
each other. The light breeze teased us but I felt warm from Jackson's body
nestled against mine.

"Emma?"
Jackson said softly after a while, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?"

"In case I forget
to tell you, this has been one of the best weeks of my life."

I lifted my head and
saw Jackson watching me, his face serious. My face broke out in a wide smile at
his words.

"I wish I could
say the feeling's mutual, but it's not." Jackson's face darkened and I
instantly regretted my bad joke. I quickly added, "This hasn't been one of
the best weeks of my life. It's been
the
best
week of my life."

Jackson's face cleared
and then he got a devious look on his face. "Toying with me, I see. You'll
have to be punished."

Jackson swooped in,
tickling me, and I shrieked in protest.

"I'm sorry! I'm
sorry!" I exclaimed breathlessly through my laughter. "I won't do it again!"

Jackson stopped
tickling me as he hovered over me, his eyes dancing with merriment.
"You're lucky you're so beautiful. I'd forgive you anything."

I caught my breath from
laughing so hard and gazed up at him. He traced the outline of my lips with his
thumb, his eyes darkening. He leaned down and grazed my lips with his, the soft
touch setting sparks of desire through me.

Jackson winked at me as
he lay back down on his back, pulling me next to him so we were nestled against
each other again. "You're also lucky we're in public, otherwise you'd be
naked right now."

"Then I think we
should go back to your place now."

Jackson grinned and we
got up, quickly packing up our picnic basket. I couldn't believe how my body
could constantly crave him, with no more provocation than a simple kiss. But I
decided to just enjoy it instead of questioning it. I was riding high on
feelings and emotions.

Before we left the
park, we walked over to the John Lennon memorial. It was a large circular
mosaic on the ground made up of black and white stones and my chest felt tight
when I saw the word spelled out in the middle:
Imagine.
Memories of my father rushed through me as I felt
conflicting emotions. I grieved the fact that I would never share this with my
father, that we would never stand here together and look upon this poignant
tribute to his favorite musician. But a part of me, the part that believed in
something more than myself, that believed in things beyond what we could see
and touch, felt that my father
was
here with me.

My father would often
say, "Emma, you and I are two of a kind. We're practical and sensible but
we're also dreamers. Don't forget that part of you. There's nothing wrong with
being sensible, but dreams are what make you fly. And you're destined to touch
the sky."

Memories of my father's
belief in me had given me the strength necessary to leave behind my life in
D.C., to leave a life that I knew would slowly drain me of my dreams. I never
would have been standing at this memorial if it hadn't been for my father. It
was only fitting that I felt him so strongly here.

Jackson didn't say a
word, he just wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I rested
my head against his chest, my arm around his waist, and we just stood there
silently, gazing at the word
Imagine.

After a few moments, he
leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "How are you feeling?"

"Happy and
sad," I answered honestly. "I'm sad that my father isn't standing
here next to me, but I'm happy that I got to see this. I know my father is
still a part of me, so in a way we're still seeing it together even though he's
not here physically."

I looked up at Jackson,
my heart full of an emotion I didn't want to put a label on yet. "Thank
you for bringing me here."

Jackson leaned down and
brushed my lips with his own. "I'm just glad that I could share this
moment with you."

I leaned in closer to
him, tightening my arms around him. "I'm ready to go home now."

Jackson and I spent the
rest of the afternoon and early evening at his apartment. This time we
succeeded in making love slowly and it was infinitely poignant and soul
stirring as we worshipped each other's bodies. I felt emotionally exposed and
bare looking into Jackson's eyes as he gazed back at me, slowly and exquisitely
sinking his body into mine. But I reveled in my vulnerability, in my
willingness to open myself up completely to Jackson, because I could see all my
desires and emotions reflected back to me in Jackson's eyes.

Afterwards, we ate
Chinese food out of takeout cartons and watched bad sitcoms, laughing even
though the jokes were cheesy because it felt effortless to be happy in that
moment. When it was time for Jackson's play, I went along, sitting in the front
row and enraptured by his performance again, clapping until my hands tingled
when he came out for his bow.

Claire had plans with
friends after the play so we were saved from having to make excuses for not
going out with her. We went back to Jackson's apartment and made love again,
but we were no longer slow and gentle but frenzied and greedy. Jackson held my
hands above my head, pinning them against the pillow and holding me in place as
he slammed into me until I cried out as waves of pleasure rippled through my
body.

I looked up after my
climax and saw his jaw clenched as he stilled himself so that I could feel
every spasm of my orgasm. My next words surprised me, I had never been so
brazen in my life, but I could tell I took Jackson completely off guard.

"I want you to
come in my mouth."

Jackson sucked in a
deep breath, his nostrils flaring as I felt his erection jerk inside of me at
my words.

"Christ,
Emma," Jackson said hoarsely. "Are you trying to kill me?"

I sat up, feeling him
slip out of me, and kneeled before him. I took hold of the root of his erection
and licked the engorged head, looking up at him at the same time. Jackson
groaned, his body shuddering in pleasure.

"I like tasting
myself on you. I can't wait until you come in my mouth and I can taste us
together."

I flushed with power
when I took Jackson deep into my mouth and he clenched his teeth with pleasure,
the planes of his face harsh with desire. It was pure satisfaction to slide his
rock hard erection in and out of my mouth until he could take no more, grabbing
my head and pumping his release into my mouth, his teeth bared as he cried out.
His eyes glittered as he watched me lapping up every bit, greedy for the taste
of him.

"You
are
trying to kill me," Jackson
rasped as he fell onto the bed. He dragged me close so that I was nuzzled next
to him.

I giggled and kissed
his neck. "It was just payback for all the times you've made me lose
control."

Jackson grinned down at
me, his dimples deep and looking absurdly happy. "Luckily, I'm okay with
that kind of revenge."

We woke up Sunday
morning to an overcast day, but that did nothing to put a dent in our cheerful
mood. I told Jackson that I would make lunch today since it was my turn to cook
for him so we went grocery shopping. It felt domestic to wheel a cart around
the market, picking out groceries and debating what the rules were in
determining if fruit was ripe.

It was raining by the
time we were done shopping so we ducked into a cab, laughing as we narrowly
missed being splashed by cars whizzing past us.

"Hi, Sam," I
greeted as we rushed into Jackson's apartment building with our bags of
groceries.

Sam nodded in response.
"Mr. Reynard. Emma." I had insisted that he call me Emma because it
felt too weird being called Ms. Mills. He then smiled at me. "I'm glad to
see you didn't get too wet. It's supposed to rain all day."

I grimaced. "It's
hell on my hair. It frizzes like crazy in the humidity."

"You look
beautiful, wet hair and all," Jackson said with a smile. He then winked at
Sam. "I keep trying to convince her not to cut her hair."

I shook my head in
disapproval. "I'm way overdue for a cut. I'm starting to resemble
Medusa."

Sam smiled in
amusement. "I think Mr. Reynard is right. Your hair is beautiful."

"I'll have to keep
both of you around," I replied grinning. "You're good for the
ego."

After the quick ride up
the elevator, we unpacked the groceries, but then I shooed Jackson out of the
kitchen.

"Go watch TV or
something. I can't concentrate with you in here."

Jackson gave me an
indulgent smile and obliged, grabbing a beer and turning on a baseball game in
the living room.

I busied myself in the
kitchen, putting a pot of water to boil on the stove and grating Parmesan
cheese. I had decided to make a cold pesto pasta salad with peas and grilled
chicken, one of my old standbys and one of the few things I could make with no
recipe.

"Are you sure you
don't need any help?" Jackson called out from the living room.

"I'm fine, don't
come in here!" I answered back. I wasn't exactly skilled in the kitchen
and I didn't want Jackson to see the mess I was making, let alone the frantic
pace of my cooking. I had admired his easy and effortless grace when he had
made me dinner, but I was more like a chicken with its head cut off, rushing
over to the stove when the water started boiling over and cursing softly when I
spilled my first batch of pesto on the floor.

I heaved a sigh of
relief when I was done, having avoided any major mishaps. I surveyed the
kitchen, cringing at the mess. It looked like a hurricane had gone through it,
but I would clean it after lunch, before Jackson could see it.

"Lunch is
served," I announced as I carried our two plates into the living room.
Jackson took his plate, his eyes lighting up at the pasta salad.

"You've been
holding out on me," Jackson said after he took his first bite. "This
is great."

"Don't be
expecting too much," I warned with a laugh. "I can only make a few
things without burning down the kitchen. This is one of them."

We watched the rest of
the baseball game while we ate. More accurately, Jackson watched the rest of
the game and I watched Jackson. It pleased me more than I thought possible that
he was eating my pasta salad with such relish. When he asked if there was any
more, I jumped up to get him a second serving, not wanting him to see the
kitchen.

"I'm going to
start cleaning up," I said after I gave Jackson his second helping.

"I'll clean up
after I finish this," Jackson said. "You cooked."

"It's okay,"
I insisted vehemently. "Watch the rest of the baseball game."

Back in the kitchen, I
tackled the task of cleaning up. I was in the middle of wiping up pesto that
had dripped down the cabinets when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Why don't you go
relax, I'll-"

I wheeled around as
Jackson stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth gaping open as he surveyed the
kitchen. I winced, knowing how bad it looked. In addition to the pesto on the
cabinets, there were puddles of pesto on the floor. When I had ripped open the
package of frozen peas, handfuls had spilled out and were now rolling around on
the counter. I had somehow gotten pasta stuck to the refrigerator, although for
the life of me I couldn't remember how that had happened.

"Sorry," I
squeaked in embarrassment. "I can be kind of messy while I'm
cooking."

Jackson looked at me
nonplussed, and then burst out laughing. "I've gotta watch you the next
time you cook to see how this all happens."

I frowned at Jackson in
mock annoyance, but I couldn't suppress my laughter.

"I know, I know.
I'm a bit of a mess. I'm just lucky that I didn't get anything on your ceiling.
It's happened before, usually when there's a blender involved."

Jackson grinned and
wordlessly helped me clean up the kitchen. Between the two of us, we were able
to make quick work of it.

We settled back into
the living room after we were done. Jackson peered out the sliding glass doors
at the rain.

"It doesn't look
like it's going to let up any time soon. Wanna just watch a movie until it's
time to leave for Nathan's showing?"

"Sure," I
agreed, liking the sound of snuggling together and watching a movie, cozy
inside while the rain poured steadily outside "What's the selection?"

Jackson got up and
pulled a box out of the closet full of DVD's, setting it in front of my feet.
"Take a look."