Haze (15 page)

A full emotional portrait of Jack was painted before me—and I was more smitten than ever before despite my intent to remain guarded.

Why is it that we resist our feelings when they become so clear to us? Giving in made me feel warm and loved, while fighting back only dropped me violently back into reality. It was like falling from a plane to the ground without a parachute, yet it was the so-called "logical" and "rational" thing to do.

I just didn't make any sense to myself.

I hadn't thought about my job in what seemed like years, even though I had been there the previous day. Why didn't I want to give into Jack, to accept all he had to offer? What was I hiding from? I was protecting myself, but from what? Assumptions?

Part of me felt like at least
I
was moving too fast, especially given the absurd situation with Timothy today. It hadn't been that long since we broke up, so conventional wisdom said
take it slow
. If that was the case, why did I feel like I was being dragged along at light speed, unable to slow down how I was feeling? What if I didn't want to take it slow?

That dreaded L-word kept popping up in my head, but I washed it away like the lavender-scented body wash on my body. It
was
too soon for that, yet I was already feeling something like it far too often. Maybe he was too...

What else was there to say when everything fell into place in the most perfect way possible?

We threw on our robes and headed into his bedroom, quietly enjoying the endless stream of movies that only Netflix could provide on his wall-mounted fifty-two inch television. It was bigger than any TV I had ever owned, and it was in his bedroom. The one in the living room was even
bigger
.

I fell asleep in his arms, the quiet hum of the television accompanying our dreams.

***

I woke in the middle of the night, the room dark except for the city lights peeking through the shades. My eyes had shot wide open, but aside from that, I hadn't moved.

I laid there in silence for a while, trying hard to fall asleep. Visions of Jack crept into my head, his hands on my body, the face he made when he came. It was super dirty stuff, as if I had stayed up late to watch porn or something.

A scorching wetness formed between my thighs, my clit aching for attention amidst my triple-X mind. Oh God, I quickly realized I wasn't going to get back to sleep until I dealt with
this
. All of the good feelings surrounding Jack were transforming into vicious, burning lust that only served to make me desperate for him.

I had never felt so sexually overwhelmed
and
helpless
in my life.

"Effie? Are you awake?"

Thank God
. "Yes," I murmured quietly.

"I could hear you breathing. Are you all right?"

"I
need
you." It's all I had. And when I felt his erection pressing against my ass, I knew it had been enough.

Jack tore open a condom and rolled it on in the dark, the sound like music to my ears. He helped me wriggle out of my robe and then slid into spoon position behind me. His hand crept along my thigh until he was gently tickling my
very needy
clit.

"Oh God, Jack." I was whispering despite the fact that no one else was there. His fingers kept fluttering against me so perfectly, my body giving into his touch. I was pressed so hard against his erection, so intrigued by the tiny pumping motion from his hips.

"I need to be inside you, Effie," he said, his breath tickling against my earlobe. With a slight hint of aggression, he spread my legs apart and upward and pushed himself into me at once, using his fingers as a guide. He parted me, his cock immediately soaking up the moisture inside of me. "You're so perfectly tight." It sounded like it was a complaint as much as it was a compliment, as if that fact would prove to be too much for him.

His hand firmly squeezing my breast, he started to rock his hips back and forth, my back arching to urge him even deeper. Every time he tweaked my nipple, I shivered. All of the nerves in my body were firing together, victims of Jack's masterful efforts.

I moaned as he fucked me, my groans increasing in volume and ignoring the former quiet efforts of
polite Effie
. Every thrust went all the way to the hilt, his arms holding me tightly and forcing his length into the deepest parts of me.

Something told me that he was starting to lose it, a thought that absolutely killed me. And when his hand moved from my breast to my clit again, I knew I was about to lose it too. Hell, this felt so good it almost hurt.

I lost control and came, my pussy fluttering around him until he matched my own sensations. He was right there with me, twitching and groaning, clenching and crying out. Our bodies contorted together as we found that mutual climax, not wanting any of that beautiful pleasure to escape from between us. It stayed there for a short while longer and then disappeared much slower than it had arrived, an unusual conclusion.

"That was perfect," he whispered. "I really needed it."

"I know. Me too." I couldn't stop thinking about how badly I wanted to feel him come inside of me, feel his release with nothing between us. I wasn't ready for it yet, but I had never done it with anyone else, despite the fact that I was on birth control. It was one of those trust things, I supposed. He had opened up for me, so it seemed like the next logical step.
For another day,
I thought.

He pulled out and I immediately turned and met his lips with a long, passionate kiss, one that followed me back into a very peaceful sleep.

Chapter 8

I awoke the following morning to a slumbering Jack, his tousled brown hair spilling everywhere over the pillow. He was sleeping like a baby. As quietly as possible, I escaped the bed and lightly closed the bedroom door behind me after grabbing my robe from the floor.

The sunlight spilling in through the windows was absolutely gorgeous, painting the carpet with beams of golden light. It really was a new day; this was one signal that I couldn't misinterpret. I felt both refreshed
and
fresh, as if I were somehow both well rested and somewhat of a new person altogether.

Finding myself next to Jack's
most comfortable chair in the world
, I succumbed to temptation and sat in it.

"Holy shit," I said aloud. This was undoubtedly a chair made for sitting in. I turned on my side and still found it just as comfortable as I had sitting upright. Whatever he paid for the damn thing seemed totally justified in that moment.

I sat and thought in absolute comfort, totally at ease with the fact that Jack was still sleeping and not sitting beside me. We both had been through a rough day, but his was certainly a little different from my own. It's not that I didn't think guys could be emotional, because hell, Jack was walking, talking emotion. There was also the whole Timothy thing yesterday, which was unmistakably emotional as well.

So thanks to the last twenty-four hours, I was growing quite intimate with the brand new
emotional man
phenomenon.

My eyes traced along Jack's walls as I sat blissfully in that beautiful chair. His gold and platinum records weren't even hanging straight on the wall. The crooked angles started to bother me, but I managed to disarm my feelings of OCD, at least for that moment.

There was a light covering of dust on them; the gleaming sunlight brought the particles to the forefront. These poorly maintained relics were of
huge
significance, at least in my mind. I had no idea what it felt like to sell a half-million or a million-plus records. To me, it felt like the sort of accomplishment that you could die happily after reaching.

But what business did I have trying to say how he should feel about anything? It was his own emotion that made him talented, made him a force to be reckoned with. That's why he had this apartment and his private suite and probably a number of other things on top of that that I'd discover slowly over time.

My mom sent me a text as I sat there, my phone vibrating against the leather of the chair. I snatched it up and read.

Her:
Hi, Effie. How is the job going? We really miss you!

I sat there and pondered what to say. Honestly, I liked talking to her as much as I
didn't
like talking to her. We weren't as close as we had been in the past, and I felt like she was always trying to remedy that with honesty. My decision to move so far from home hadn't helped with that either. Well, at least we were just texting.

Me:
It's great here. Having a lot of fun. How are things at home?

Her:
We're good. Your father is doing one of his "projects" again, so we can't use the garage right now and everything is a mess. Have you met anyone out there?

That was the other thing she did that bothered me. Even though she said "anyone," it was a thinly veiled attempt at requesting information about my love life. Ever since my first boyfriend, she had always tried to quiz me for information about "boys" and "dates" and everything else I didn't want to discuss with her. She wanted to be a
cool mom.

The only problem was, if something was wrong and she could tell, she'd start dispensing information that was so outdated that I swore I had mistakenly gone back in time and been born during the Civil War.

Me:
Nothing serious, Mom. Don't worry about it.

After that, she proceeded to send me giant block paragraphs about all the things she was doing in her early retirement, the classes she was taking, the messes she was cleaning up. I swore she only asked me about myself just so that she could follow up by talking incessantly about her own activities.

No, even if I tried, I could never reform my mother. She was perfectly happy in the world she had constructed for herself, so I just did my best to cope with it. It didn't matter if I actually responded to what she was saying; saying it was enough for her.

I guess Jack and I were similar with regard to our parents.

My eyes staring at nothing in particular, I thought about my mom and dad, their marriage so traditional and essentially loveless. I always swore that I'd never wind up in a situation like that, one centered around convenience instead of love. I needed to stop thinking so seriously, however, especially about my parents' marriage. I had a lot of my plate already between Jack and my job and this city that could swallow me whole like a monster. They were retired and had all of the time in the world to sort things out.

And maybe I needed to loosen up with regard to my mom. I had closed myself to her years ago, locking the door and throwing away the key. Maybe she was just seeking to rebuild that former connection we had when we were both younger.

I don't know if it was just the stuff with Jack or what, but I was feeling unusually optimistic.

I was getting more and more fixated on
new beginnings
, I guess because my life had become one giant new beginning. Looking around the lavish, urbane designer apartment, I realized just how true that statement was for me. New York was a totally different city for the privileged than it was for everyone else.

Honestly, I could have met anyone from a homeless man to a hipster coffee shop musician to an investment banker. Well, I did meet Jesse, so I had one of those covered. Instead, I was with a super-rich, talented, gorgeous man who lived in a world that was wholly foreign to me.

"Hey, gorgeous." The familiar voice from behind startled me from thought. When I felt his kiss against my cheek, I realized my instinctive
scared
response had been unjustified.

"Hi, Jack," I said quietly. My phone buzzed again; another text from my mom.
Terrific.

"Missed call?" he asked.

"Just texts from my mom. Always trying to grill me for information or talk about herself."

He smirked wryly. "Just be nice to her, okay?"

It was a little surprising to hear him say that. "Why on earth would I take that advice from you?"

"Eh, I guess maybe I'm doing a little figurative housecleaning and I don't want you to end up like me." The sun made his smile glow even more.

"What? Rich, beautiful, and successful?"

He smiled and I felt my heart skip a beat. "Right." His fingers reached for mine and touched my hand. "That really helped last night, seriously." His fingers traced along my exposed wrist, instantly creating something like electricity between our bodies.

"I'm glad it did. Not knowing was driving me crazy."

"Glad to hear you're so sympathetic to my case and not just fixated on the
mystery part
," Jack said with serious hints of sarcasm.

"I was just trying to be honest!"

Jack let a huge laugh and smiled. "How do you like that chair, anyway? Best in the world, right?"

I flexed my body against it, once again realizing how comfortable it was. "No joke. Best chair I've ever sat in. I'm no expert in chairs, though."