More Than Physical (The Physical Series Book Book 2) (19 page)

Shira placed a soft kiss on her daughter’s cheek and moved to the edge of the hospital bed, where she sat and crossed her legs demurely.

“I’ve never regretted a single moment once I made that decision. I’ve had a wonderful life with your father. He’s a good man – albeit a bit too focused on his work at times. But he has never failed me and I love him just as much, if not more, today than I did the day I married him.”

A quiet moment passed between them as Sasha contemplated what her mother was trying to share with her.

“You don’t have to be scared to let him in,” Shira stated quietly. “If he makes you happy, then that’s all that matters.”

Jackson did make her happy. But so did Andrew once upon a time, until he dropped that anvil on her head.

With a weak voice, a small sob escaped from her dry mouth as she spoke.

“I don’t ever want to go back to that horrible place. Or let myself fall back into that despair,” she wheezed, tears clinging to her eyelashes. “I don’t want to be crazy.”

For as petite and delicate as she was, Shira had a strength and speed that shocked her daughter, as her arms pulled Sasha over to the bed with her. She held Sasha in her warm embrace, cradling her in her arms, Sasha’s face buried in her mother’s bosom.

“Shh…my darling. That was a long time ago. It’s in your past and it does define you today. Do you understand me?” Her mother pinched her chin with her finger and thumb, turning Sasha to face her.

“You were such a young girl back then, under so much stress and pressure. It’s no wonder the heartbreak you endured caused such trauma. But you are
not
that distraught, naïve girl anymore. You are a strong, independent and brilliant woman. And I’m so proud of who you’ve become, Sasha Marie. It’s time for you to let that burden go and to move on from that unfortunate time in your life. Open yourself up to living and learning to love again.”

Sagging into her mother’s arms, she sighed wistfully. She made it sound so damn easy.

The day had finally arrived, with Jackson praying that all the time and effort he and Sasha put into planning this party would pay off. As long as the sky didn’t cave in on them, he was confident that they would survive the night.

But goddamn, he was exhausted. The planning of this thing had become the bane of his existence. Despite the fact that throughout his professional career he had handled some of the most complex acquisitions in his industry, helped raise money and fund million dollar deals, and crafted iron-clad legal documents – all without breaking a sweat – this party preparation took its toll on him.

Most of the strife coming from the numerous arguments and disagreements with Sasha – which somehow became an aphrodisiac and vocal foreplay, always ending them up in bed together. But decisions were finally made on the football them, a scavenger hunt and private tour of Gillette Stadium where the Patriots play through Jackson’s family connections, and the final destination, a small, renovated warehouse near the stadium where music would be provided by the band he booked from New York City, along with enough drinks and food to feed the masses.

Now all that was left to do was enjoy the night with Sasha, his best friend and his fiancée. Jackson had arranged to pick Sasha up at her place that evening around five-thirty, allowing them time to check out the venue and handle any last minute details with the catering company. Knocking on her front door, he checked his watch to make sure he was on time.

A few nights before after he’d received the text invite from Sasha to be her booty call, his fist had barely made contact with her door when she’d whipped it open, wearing the sexiest lingerie he’d ever seen. Some white-lace, see-through matching bra and panty set from some brand called La Perla (or so she said), along with a satiny garter belt and sexy thigh-high stockings. Jackson didn’t give a fuck who made the underwear, he just thanked God she wore it.

Although the lingerie was sexy-as-fuck, it took him exactly three minutes to have it completely removed from her body, his own clothes thrown off haphazardly along the way to her bedroom. Three minutes after that, he’d already given her the first of several orgasms that night. And while he was pretty damn proud of himself for accomplishing such a feat, he sensed something was off with her.

It was nothing he could really put his finger on, or pinpoint exactly, but she seemed more reserved with him. Less playful and more serious than usual. Like something was weighing heavily on her mind and the sexual release he provided was a fix for her problems.

And damn if he wasn’t happy to be the one to provide it. Even if that was all she needed from him, that’s what he would give. No questions asked. But what really worried him about Sasha’s state-of-mind, was that after the sex was over, Sasha let him stay the night.

Now that was unusual. She wasn’t known for her love of spooning, or affection of any kind after they screwed each other’s brains out. And because Jackson enjoyed the time with her too much to pose the question, he let it go, instead choosing to wrap his arms tightly around her body as they fell asleep.

Jackson wanted more of those nights with her. He longed to come home after a long workday or business trip and curl up on the couch with her, Sasha’s body wedged tightly against his as they talked about their day over a bottle of wine, capping off the night with a round or two of love-making.

His thoughts had meandered so far off into his reverie that he barely registered Sasha standing in the open doorway in front of him. His breath caught in his chest when she opened the door and promptly turned back around to busy herself with several bags sitting on the floor.

Sasha always had the propensity to blow him away with her fashion ensembles. Formal wear, casual, date-night, and lingerie – every time he saw her, she was perfect. Tonight was no exception.

She bent over, the skinny jeans she wore like a second skin, tightly configuring to her lusciously round ass. The cropped Patriot’s jersey, which appeared to have been purchased off the children’s rack, hitched up her back, exposing the creamy skin just above the waistband of her jeans. His fingers itched to run his hand up her spine, feeling the gentle slide of her silky skin. Maybe not right this minute, but sometime tonight, he would do just that.

Her voice, smokey and sweet like brown sugar and molasses, jarred him back to the present.

“Can you help me load these bags into your car? I need to run upstairs and grab my purse and the cake.” She glanced back over her shoulder at him, giving him an appraising glance as he just stood there gaping after her.

Her brow scrunched in question. “What’s the matter with you? You’re looking at me funny.” Hands placed on her hips, head tipped to the side, Sasha looked both perplexed and curious, as if his behavior was irrational.

And maybe it was. All thoughts in his brain ceased to exist in that moment, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Guthrie was right. He did love this woman. And he’d be a fool not to tell her – to let her go on one more minute without knowing how he felt about her.

Fuck, this woman was it for him. All of her. All of her fiery personality, her smoking hot body, her independence and her sexy, dirty mind. She was everything he never knew he wanted.

Stepping toward her as if in a dreamlike trance, he reached out to grab her wrists, pulling her in tight against his body. He cupped her cheeks, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes.

Throat dry as the desert, he barely croaked out the words that were clawing out of his chest.

“I’ve fallen in love with you, Sasha.”

Jackson hadn’t practiced those words out loud or envisioned what a moment like this would look like when he said it the first time to a woman - but her stiffened body, tense with uncertainty, definitely wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for. It was all he could do not to retract his statement and undo the words that hung between them like a lead balloon.

Several silent moments passed and nothing happened. Sasha blinked, her wide-brown eyes flashing an emotion he couldn’t name. He was just about to ask her forgiveness for his stupidity when she spoke, a smile quirking on her lips.

“I know, Rowdy,” she said, reaching up to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’m really not all that surprised. I figured you’d come to that conclusion soon enough.”

Her flippant response shouldn’t have felt like an arrow piercing his heart, obliterating him to bits, but it did. It was worse than the Patriot’s deflate gate, the air popping right out of him, along with his pride. Had he not seen the truth in her eyes, his heart might have died a bloody death. But it was there – carefully hidden under Sasha’s playful cockiness.

She tried pulling away from him, stepping back with a foot and pivoting to the side, but he caught her by the shoulders and pried her back into his arms.

“I don’t expect you to say it back…but you don’t fool me. I know you’re in just as deep as me, Sasha. It’s there. I see it in your eyes when you look at me,” he said, tilting her chin up with his thumb so she’d look at him in the eyes. “I feel it with every tremor of your body when I’m deep inside you. I hear it in your voice when you speak to me in that special tone reserved just for me. I know it with every fiber of my being. You’re mine, Sasha, whether you want to admit it or not.”

She pressed her hands to his chest and gave him a petulant shove. Jackson could have resisted, keeping her pinned to his chest, but he let her go, knowing it would only drive up her irritation.

“You’re going all caveman on me there, Rowdy. And that’s a lot to drop on a girl when we have a big night ahead of us. So why don’t you put those strong arms to use and carry these things to the car so we can get this show on the road.”

Patting his shoulder, Sasha turned and ran up the stairs, leaving him befuddled and confused, but not the least bit sorry for calling it like it was. He was in love with her and he’d sure as shit get her to admit the same thing sooner rather than later. Party or no party.

****

Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck
.

Okay, to put it mildly, she panicked. Or maybe more in the way of
freaked-the-fuck out
. So sue her. But come on! A guy can’t just throw those words out to an unsuspecting girl like that and expect her to know what to do. She had to run, lest she feel like she was the prey in an ambush by a jungle cat. And she could still feel the sting of the claw marks that flayed her heart wide open.

The reaction she’d given Jax was definitely not one of her finest moments. Sasha knew she handled it poorly, kind of accidentally flipping her shit, and going just a teensy-weensy bit postal when Jackson dropped the “
L
” bomb just an hour before. But for the love of all that was holy – how did he expect her to react? By jumping up and down in glee, writing their initials in doodle hearts and naming their unborn children?

The twenty-minute ride to the warehouse was insanely uncomfortable, the drops of sweat beading between her cleavage making her twitch with anxiety. How the hell was she supposed to get through this night now after that heavy admission from Jax?

Every few minutes or so, Sasha would surreptitiously glance over in her peripheral vision to see how Jackson was doing. He seemed pretty damn calm for just telling her he loved her, the damn fool. And while she tried to act ever-so-coolly and unaffected by it all, her heart rate was beating faster than a race horse at the starting gates, nerves frazzled and composure ready to disintegrate.

A part of her felt guilty for being such a fucktard by the way she handled his admission. It tore at her, making her ache for the pain she’d caused him, as she saw his handsome facial features torqued with anguish when she couldn’t respond in kind. Although he quickly tried to cover it up, she saw it as clear as day.

And even though she was a chicken shit and couldn’t admit it, she felt the same way toward him. It was just the coward in her that prevented her from saying it back. Because the moment she let those words loose again, it would change everything.

And things were too precarious at the moment. This was the closest she’d been to having an honest-to-god relationship in over ten years. So damn straight she was scared, because she knew that once she laid that out on the line, there was no going back. And that was a heavy, haunting burden to live with.

If she and Jackson could just stay focused on making it through the evening, ensuring the party was a flying success, then they could revisit this whole “
L
” word exchange later. But right now, she had to get her game face on.

Jackson parked the car in the lot of the warehouse and they went to work unloading the trunk of the boxes that held a bevy of party favors, signs, various caches of sex toys and football squishy balls.

Jackson happened to eye the open box with the fuzzy pink hand-cuffs and dildo hats.

He cocked his eyebrows in amusement.

“Do I dare ask what these will be used for?”

Her retort was licked-split.

“If I have to tell you, then you probably don’t want to know.” She giggled and threw a football at Jackson’s head.

Sasha had enjoyed herself the previous week when she’d done her party-favor shopping for the bachelorette and bachelor. What party would be complete without some trashy, kinky, sexy toys to entertain and embarrass? And she was damn-well going to make sure either Mitch or Rylie, or both, wear the dildo hat for photo ops at some point during the evening.

“How come you’ve not asked me to use something like this on you, yet?” Jackson asked, coyly toying with the bright purple vibrator sitting on the side of the box. Sasha’s cheeks burned splotchy and hot. Not from embarrassment, but from picturing him using it on her while she was splayed out wide on his bed.

She swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know,” she considered, setting the box down on the long front table. “But I have plenty to choose from at home whenever you want.”

One second he was behind her with a box in his hands and the next thing she knew, one of Jackson’s hands was at the back of her head, the other on her ass, his lips taking possession of hers in a wild, hot kiss.

God, this man destroyed her with his kisses. Sometimes they were sweet and tender, like rose petals floating on placid water, and other times they were so hot and erotic, she felt the burn all the way down to her painted toes.

He released her for a second, giving her time to breathe.

“Do you think of me and what I do to you when you use your toys, Sash?” His voice was so low, so sensual, she felt the vibration in her own belly.

Voices and noise coming from the front of the building had her eyes scanning the area. She’d forgotten that the catering company was coming early to set up. Otherwise, she would have unbuckled his jeans and dropped to her knees to show him exactly what she thought about when she got herself off.

Instead, she purred out a quiet “yes” and stepped back, placing her hand over his chest and pushing him back to allow her some much needed space to think.

“I told Rylie about us,” Sasha cautiously stated. If she and Jackson were together at this party all night, there was a likely chance one of them would end up slipping with PDA eventually, their hands having minds of their own, especially with the free-flowing booze. “Does Mitch know?”