Crazy Love (24 page)

J
ackson raced down the basketball court with Tyrell in close pursuit. Seconds later the ball was out of Jackson's hands and flying through the air. Tyrell burst out laughing when it kissed the rim and bounced off. They were at Run N' Shoot, the Atlanta gym where serious and want-to-be ballers converged.

“Still can't ball,” Tyrell taunted, catching the rebound.

“I'm a little out of practice,” Jackson answered, then snatched the ball from Tyrell and shot. This time the ball easily passed through the net and Tyrell grabbed it. “I just needed to warm up,” Jackson said as he pulled off his shirt and flexed his muscled pecs while bouncing on the balls of his feet. “This feels good.”

“Get ready, 'cause I'ma kick your ass,” Tyrell threatened before shoving Jackson, then pivoting on his heel to make a basket.

“So you think you got me? Think again,” Jackson huffed, grabbing the basketball and scoring. Three games later, a sweaty and tired Jackson and Tyrell casually tossed the ball around.

“The best of five,” Tyrell huffed, and Jackson shook his head. “You scared? Give a brother a chance.”

Jackson looked at his best friend. He looked like he was one breath away from collapsing. Jackson motioned toward the juice bar. “Let's get something to drink.” Jackson strolled through the gym, nodding and greeting the ladies; he had dated almost half of them.

They got their protein shakes and sat inside a booth. “I'ma do it, man,” Jackson said.

“What, go for five? Bet. I'll be ready as soon as I finish this drink.”

Jackson waved his hand. “No, not that. I'ma make it official. Do the legal thing. I'm going to ask Stacie to marry me.”

“What?” Tyrell exclaimed, spurting his shake over the table.

“Hey, fountain boy, watch where you're spitting,” Jackson said.

“Sorry about that,” Tyrell said as he wiped up the table. “Congrats, man. I didn't see this coming at all. So when did you decide to give up your player's card?”

Jackson smiled. “The moment I saw her.”

“I'm happy for you…but she's a little high maintenance, isn't she? What is it you call her? Princess?”

Jackson chuckled. “Stacie does keep a brother on his toes. But there's a lot that you don't know. She loves kids—her nieces worship her. She's a hard worker. She's a good lady with a good heart. Ettie Mae loves her. She got some issues, but it's nothing we can't work through,” he said, thinking of her shoe sniffing. “And none of my other ladies bonded with Jam like she did.”

Tyrell snorted. “That's because you've never given them a chance, Mr. Three Date Rule.”

“Stacie blew that rule out of the water, didn't she?”

“Damn. Another brother down,” Tyrell said mournfully.

Jackson eyed his friend. Despite the jokes, he knew how much Tyrell wanted to be married. “So how are you doing?”

“Maintaining,” Tyrell answered. “Just maintaining.”

“You need to get back out there, man. You know women are like paper towels, they come in a bunch of sizes and colors and, best of all, they're disposable.”

“And you want to get married?” he asked, then looked Jackson in the eyes. “You know, J, I would not have thought Tameeka would do something like this to me, never in my wildest dreams. She fucked me up.”

“I'm sorry, man,” Jackson said.

“What would you do if Stacie cheated on you?”

“She'd be seeing the back of my ass because Jackson Brown don't play that shit. Believe that!”

1. He must love himself
   
2. He must be smart enough to surround himself with good people
   
3. He must be a leader
   
4. He must know how to be vulnerable
   
5. He must treat me like a princess
   

S
tacie rang Jackson's doorbell. “This is our weekend!” she sang to herself. When Jackson told her that his grandmother and Jameel were spending the weekend in Macon and that he wanted her to spend the time with him, she eagerly agreed.

The door opened and Stacie waved to Tameeka, who tooted her horn two short beeps, then drove away.

Stacie was wearing a leopard-print rayon slip dress that draped over her, but still gave a hint of the body underneath. She had matched it with a pair of brown sandals that had straps that wrapped around her calves.

“You look delicious, baby,” Jackson murmured, then pecked her on the cheek. “I'm not sure what to eat first…you or the food.”

Stacie felt the same. The jeans he had on were hugging him in all the right places. His short-sleeved shirt showed off his biceps to perfection. “Let's eat the food first. I have a feeling that I'm gonna need all my energy tonight,” she said, laughing. “I'm starving.” She sniffed the air. “What's that? Dang, that smells good. I feel like I wanna drop my—”

“Drop what?” Jackson leered, and Stacie shook her head with a laugh.

“Nothing. Let's eat,” Stacie said as she pushed past Jackson and headed to the dining room. Stacie stood on the threshold of the dining room and smiled with amazement.

His grandmother's china and silver graced the table. Two black tapered candles were in front of the two settings and in the middle of the table was a vase filled with flowers he had handpicked from Ettie Mae's garden.

“Jackson, I love it,” Stacie squealed. “And I love you,” she said, nestling in his arms. An hour later Stacie was satiated. She ran her finger across the plate and skimmed up the last bit of curry. Then she stuck it in her mouth and sighed. Jackson watched her with amusement. “Do you want me to leave you and the plate alone?” he joked.

“Damn, that lamb was da bomb. Where did you learn to cook?”

“In college. I used to date a girl from the islands. It's a secret family recipe.”

“Then how did you get it?” Stacie tilted her head and glared at him.

“I almost married her,” Jackson said quietly, and Stacie's eyes widened to the size of half-dollars.

“Oh?”

“I was young,” he said, as if that in itself explained everything. Stacie nodded and waited for more information. Jackson pushed himself up from the table and began taking dishes into the kitchen. Every time he returned he was met with Stacie's glare. She hadn't said a word to him since he'd announced that he had been engaged once.

It was so quiet it was loud. After the table was cleared, he reached for Stacie's hand and they walked into the living room and settled down on the couch.

“Her name was Cleo,” he began. “She was a feisty little thing. You remind me of her,” he said, and Stacie snorted. The last thing she needed was to be compared to one of his exes, most of all his ex-fiancée. Jackson nervously cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, she was always so focused and passionate…and she took care of me. One time after a day of exams, I went into my room and found all my clothes washed and folded. And she'd cook me some amazing dishes. And the sex was—”

“Yes?” Stacie narrowed her eyes until they were just little slits and Jackson quickly backpedaled.

“The sex was aw'ight. Just aw'ight,” Jackson answered.

“So what happened to this superwoman?” Stacie asked.

“We broke up. She wanted me to go to law school and I didn't want to go. I heard through the grapevine that she's a judge
and
she's married to a lawyer.”

“Good for her,” Stacie said. “What's for dessert?” Stacie shot him a look that said, “Don't you dare say ‘me.'”

“Um—chocolate, my grand made her chocolate cake for you.”

“Cool. Feed a sistah,” Stacie joked, then decided that she had punished Jackson long enough. When he returned to the room carrying two plates of cake, she snuggled into his arms.

“I take it you're not mad at me anymore.”

“Humph.
I wasn't mad at you before,” Stacie lied, then pushed some cake in her mouth.

“Girl, you lie like a rug. But it's all good. Like the room?”

What was usually the family gathering spot was transformed into a spa that would rival any resort. Dozens of vanilla-scented candles were scattered throughout the room. Half a dozen oversize pillows were tossed casually across the floor. Soothing sounds of the ocean pulled it all together. Dozens of lip-shaped chocolates made a trail from the couch to his bedroom.

“Love it,” Stacie said, and she did. She noticed a bottle of massage oil on the table and she jutted her chin toward it. “You plan on using that on me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jackson drawled.

“When?”

“Whenever you're ready.”

She stuck the last piece of cake in her mouth, then announced, “I'm ready now.” And Jackson chuckled.

“My spoiled baby,” he teased as he kissed her chocolate-stained lips.
“Mmmm,
delicious.” He pulled himself away from her. It wasn't time for
that
yet. “Okay, drop the clothes,” he ordered. Stacie was about to protest, but logic told her that he couldn't massage her with her clothes on. She pushed down the straps of her dress and it fell to her feet into a shiny puddle. She stepped over it, then toed it out of the way.

Jackson didn't bother to hide his admiration. Stacie was sexy as hell. In the flickering lights of the candles her skin was luminous; it looked as soft as silk, almost as silky as the two-inch piece of material that covered her privates. He gulped deeply.

“Damn, baby, do you plan on getting a massage or having me bang you until you can't walk?”

“Hopefully both,” Stacie giggled, then sauntered over to Jackson. He backed up; he had a plan and he wanted to stick to it.

“Take off that Band-Aid you call panties, and your shoes,” he quickly added before draping a blanket over the rug. “And lay facedown on the floor.”

Stacie stuck her tongue out at him. “Spoil sport.” But she did as he said. While she was getting comfortable on the floor, he undressed. “May I have one of these chocolates,” she called over her shoulder.

“Sure,” he answered as he reached for the massage oil. He drizzled it over her back and Stacie shivered.

“Oh, so cold,” she moaned, but made mewling sounds when Jackson's hands began roaming over her body. His touch was firm yet soft at the same time.

“Is there any particular spot that I should focus on?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah, my ass.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Okay…what about your shoulders or your lower back?”

“They're fine, just do my ass,” she instructed.

“Okay, Miss Bossy Lady,” he joked, and did as she wished. He loved her behind so much that he couldn't resist his next move. Leaning down until his lips touched her body, he traced the curves of her backside with the tip of his tongue; Stacie moaned loudly. He kept it up until she started whimpering and begged him to stop.

He dripped a dollop of massage oil on her butt, then began slowly kneading it. His oil-slicked hands moved over her behind like a professional's and he grabbed handful after handful and squeezed until she whimpered helplessly. Jackson smiled wickedly as he gently nibbled at her flesh. His smile grew even wider as he slipped his slicked hands between her legs and spread her slippery lips and stroked her love mound.

“Omigod!” Stacie panted, lifting her behind to give him better access. “Oh, oh, oh,” she chanted as she slid closer to the edge. Then, “Oh! Jackson, I love you!” When she fell over the cliff, Jackson held her shaking body. The living room was silent except for Stacie's breathing, deep and low. “I want some chocolate,” she mumbled.

“You want more chocolate? Here, have this,” Jackson said and began poking her with his penis.

“I love
this kind
of chocolate,” Stacie drawled as she reached out and tenderly stroked him. She felt powerful as he pulsed gently in her hand. “I wanna taste the chocolate,” she drawled and bent toward him, sliding him into her mouth. “Doctors recommend a daily piece of chocolate,” Stacie murmured, and all Jackson could do was nod.

Jackson whimpered as Stacie's fingers caressed his behind. Jackson could feel the pressure building.

“Nu-uh, not now. I want…no…I
need
to be inside you. Otherwise, I'ma explode all over your face,” he groaned.

“And?” Stacie peeked up at him wearing a devilish grin.

“My spoiled girl is a nasty girl,” he teased.

“Just trying to make you feel good, baby, that's all. Um—where's the protection?”

“Right here.” Jackson slid his hand between the couch cushions and came out with a handful of condoms.

“Damn! I'm impressed,” Stacie joked. “Now put it on!” Jackson slipped the condom on and gently lowered himself on top of her. His tongue slipped into her mouth and tenderly probed the soft recesses of her mouth. Her tongue greeted his like an old friend. They danced a familiar dance.

“Wow!” she said, dazed by the kiss.

“Yeah, wow!” Jackson said as he slid inside Stacie; she moaned softly. “I know, baby, I know,” he panted as he slowly moved in and out of her, enjoying her wetness, her hotness and her softness. “I want to stay like this forever,” Jackson moaned as he picked up his speed and Stacie met him with every thrust. “Oh baby!” he shouted as he exploded and Stacie quickly followed.

“You should see my bedroom. I hooked it up for you,” Jackson bragged. They were spooning on the living room floor.

“Well, we still have tonight and tomorrow.”

“True dat.” Jackson was quiet, then said, “Stace?”

“Yeah?”

Jackson tugged at her hand. “Sit up, I need to talk to you.”

Stacie's heart thudded at his serious tone. “What's wrong?”

Jackson cleared his throat. “Do you know why you're here?”

Stacie nodded. “Yeah, you wanted to spend the weekend with me.”

“Yeah, but that's not all,” he said, then, “I've never met anyone like you before. You're truly one of a kind. You stuck by me with all the Michelle drama; most women would've left. Jameel and Grandma love you and I love you. When I met you at Houston's I never thought in my wildest dreams that you would be the lady who stole my heart.”

Stacie's eyes teared up. “Jackson, that is so sweet.”

“I meant every word,” Jackson said before he reached in between the couch pillows for the second time that evening and pulled out a little velvet box. He flicked open the lid and extended it to her. “Stacie Long, will you marry me?”