Love After All (28 page)

She held out her hand to him. “Come here, tell me,” she whispered.

Jackson walked over, took her hand and sat down on the side of the bed, tossing the condoms beside them.

He stroked her face lovingly, gently, with the barest touch of adoring affection. “When we made love the first time…” he began.

“In bungalow number twelve,” she interrupted.

He nodded. “It was a fantasy.”

She nodded. “That's what we said.”

“We were wrong, there was nothing fantasy about it. It was real, just like it's real now.”

“Jackson…”

“We connected, Samantha, I know it and you know it.”

“Jackson…”

“And here we are again.”

“Yes, here we are again,” she repeated, pulling the covers back for him. He slid beneath the sheets beside her. She cuddled in his arms, holding him, not wanting to ever let go. His body instantly folded around her. She closed her eyes tight and tried to burn the memory of this moment into her mind, the sight, the smell, the taste, the feel and the sounds.

“I dream of having you in my arms like this.”

She smiled happily. “I like the sound of that.”

“It's true.”

“I know,” she whispered as she molded her body to his even more, then kissed and nibbled the underside of his neck. Hearing a low rumbled groan from his throat, she raked her teeth at the same spot, then kissed it. She looked up and saw his eyes close as he licked his lips and exhaled hard. The sensation struck a nerve, so she continued masterfully.

Submissively, he yielded to her whim, giving her full control to play his body as she desired. The sensation was exhilarating for both of them, as she desired all of him and she played all of him. Touching his body thrilled her. Controlling his body thrilled her more. Moments later she sat up, tossing the covers back, exposing all of him to her continued play.

She eased up to sit on top of him, straddling his hips without connecting their bodies, and prepared to play some more. She felt his hands as he held her thighs when she rested her palms on his chest for balance. He began rubbing her thighs and hips and waist and shoulders, massaging and caressing her. She leaned over to kiss him but was taken by surprise as he grasped her hips and arched her higher so that her breasts gently touched the tips of his lips.

He opened his mouth, welcoming the offered nipple. Kissing, licking and sucking, he enjoyed the hovering delight. Samantha moaned, then gasped and started to move back but he held her in place. To equal the pleasure he grasped the other nipple and executed a second mind-blowing assault.

Perked and primed, he teased her as she looked on, watching his tongue flatten over her nipple to lick her like a lollipop, then gently circle and draw her into the warmth of his mouth. With fervor and vigor he suckled every delicious inch of her breasts as she watched. The sight and unexpected thrill took her breath away.

Then in an instant he sat up, placing her squarely on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, gathering him as he edged her closer by wrapping his arms around her waist and hips. Face-to-face, they kissed and caressed with unyielding hunger.

Reaching over, she grabbed a condom packet from where he'd tossed them on the bed earlier. She opened one and pulled it out, then with the finesse of a seductress covered him.

Then she arched up again and slowly came down onto his hardness, long, thick and firm. She moaned as he filled her completely. She inhaled quickly, sizzling as her nails bit into his shoulders and the sweet sensation of engulfing him burned thick and hot inside her. She arched her hips up, releasing him. Then holding tight, she eased back down. Repeating the formula again and again, in and out, she filled the refilled. Up and down, back and forth she led them closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure.

He kissed hard and long, devouring her with unrestrained passion, ravaging her mouth, her neck, her shoulder, then captured her offered breasts again. Near her climax she leaned and arched her body back, feeling her release coming. Sitting up straight she rocked her hips on top of him as his hands covered her breasts and his thumbs tantalized and teased her nipples.

The pace quickened and the inundated ravaging, ceaseless in its fervor, intensified. The swell of passion escalated as she rocked her hips back and forth on top of him, each time teasing the bud of her pleasure and stoking his hunger. He lifted her hips, aiding the fierceness and power of each thrust. Passion surged in near-abandoned zeal. Locked together their bodies molded and their rapture soared. Then in a crushing, blinding, piercing crest they came as one, each holding on to the other.

She called out to him, and he answered.

Breathless and gasping, she dropped her head to his shoulder as her body contracted and the throbbing spikes of climactic ecstasy took her again and again. She moaned her release as he arched his hips and came again. Then sated, weak and drained, she collapsed against his body. His arms encircled her, holding her tight.

“I'll never let you go,” he whispered breathlessly, lying back and taking her with him.

Samantha was too exhausted to argue, so she nodded and closed her eyes until once again they joined and reached the pinnacle of pleasure.

T
he next morning, Samantha went for a walk on the beach. The fine white sand sparkled like crystals in the glorious sunrise as huge boulders and jagged rocks dotted the even terrain. She climbed a planted rock and sat high, gazing out at the western horizon. Her thoughts were just as distorted as the view in front of her. Juxtaposed, the ocean belied its true nature. Calm, gentle waves lapped lovingly over the beach as turbulence raged farther out in the distance.

At a mere twenty feet tall, the crashing waves tumbled and churned, troubling the breakers as the early-morning surfers tried desperately to tame the beast with their feeble boards. She watched as they paddled desperately in hopes of catching the wild creature, only to be devoured over and over again by its power.

At what point do you admit defeat and surrender, giving in to the stronger power of a force beyond yourself. Her heart had found its wholeness, and her spirit had been quenched, but to what avail? In the end she would still lose him.

She slid down from her perch and headed north toward a pier in the far distance. Like a protruding javelin, it jutted out into the water awkwardly, breaking the unending line of beach that looked as if it led to nowhere. It seemed appropriate.

As she walked, the peace and serenity of the water's edge eased her thoughts and lulled the vivid memories of the night before. It was just sex, she confirmed to herself silently once more. Just like the last time at the inn, it was merely a physical attraction between two consenting adults, a hormonal release of pheromones through pent-up tension, and just a physical urge manifested through lust. It was just sex.

But it wasn't. And no matter how she tried to deny it, classify it, reclassify it and spin it as anything else, she knew that it wasn't just attraction, tension, lust or sex. It was more, much more. They had connected and forged a bond the first time at the inn, and now, last night, the connection was complete.

Joyfully, a tiny part of her breathed easily; at long last she knew what it felt like to belong, to rest her heart in safe keeping. It was what she had longed to feel her whole life. It was the same joy her mother had felt with her father. And like her mother she would hold strong, the inevitable singe of heartache without reservation or regrets.

All her life she had been neither here nor there, neither in nor out, always looking, searching to belong somewhere to someone. But now, finding her heart meant losing it, as well.

They had made love, a feeling deeper and stronger than the simplest act of lustful sex. Indeed, semantics to some but to her the difference between having sex and making love was the sympatico feeling and an unwavering connection that she knew she felt and sensed Jackson felt, as well. No matter how she justified it, she came up with the same end result—it was already too late. She was in love with Jackson.

The transcendent feeling of her mindless walk had led her two miles down the beach to the pier she and Jackson had visited the day before. The same café where they'd sat and eaten lunch was open for breakfast. She got in line and purchased piping hot chocolate croissants and beignets. Carrying them in a vented bakery box tied with string, she headed back to Jackson's beach house, hopeful of finding pleasure for as long as she could.

A quarter mile from his home her cell phone rang. She looked at the phone number. She answered instantly. “Hello.”

“Good morning. You okay?” he asked as soon as she picked up.

“No, yes, I have no idea,” Samantha answered, welcoming a familiar voice.

Jefferson chuckled. “That means you're doing a great job. We didn't talk about the party last night. How was your evening?”

“You knew about Marcus's private little birthday party, didn't you?”

“It's all in the research, lollipop,” Jefferson said. “Marcus has a family thing every year, although I didn't expect the guest list to be so extensive. I assume you met Cooperman.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Any thoughts to substantiate?” Jefferson asked.

“He's a joke and basically an overpompous, self-absorbed jerk with a touch of mysophobia and OCD.”

“Fear of germs and an obsessive-compulsive disorder, that's an interesting mix. I'd heard that, of course, but couldn't get verification.”

“Consider it verified. Also, he's a dirty old man.”

“Yeah, he has a thing for young women. As a matter of fact, Darla, his child bride du jour, is five years younger than his daughter.”

“Shauna, I met her, too, she's a real delight.”

“Don't underestimate her. Granted, she's in and out of rehab so much they've installed a swing door just for her, but she also has a thing with Jackson Daley,” Jefferson said.

Samantha smiled. “Had a thing, past tense. I know. Eric was also there.”

“And?” Jefferson asked.

“I handled it. And in typical Eric fashion, he told me everything.”

“Good. Then you know what to do?”

“Yes, Cooperman already propositioned me.”

“No doubt.”

“I'm meeting him this afternoon in his office.”

“That'll be perfect. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, I'm ready,” she said, slightly nervous.

“Sammy, don't worry, you'll do fine. It's just a computer job. I wouldn't have asked you to do this if it wasn't important and if I didn't think you could pull it off, you know that. You're the only one I trust to do this.”

“I know and I won't let you down. I'll get what you need.”

“Thank you,” he said, then heard the hesitation in the silence. “What?” Jefferson asked.

Samantha sighed heavily without answering him.

“Jackson?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I don't know what to do about him.”

“Samantha, you're not conning him. You're helping him and you're saving his company.”

“He's not going to see it that way. When this is over he'll be furious that I lied to him from the beginning.”

“Again, Sammy, you're not conning him for selfish gain. This is all to help him. He'll see that. Trust me.”

“Okay,” she said. “I will.”

“I'll see you later.”

“'Bye,” she closed the phone and put it in her pocket. She looked around. The privacy of the beach was perfect. It was still early and few people were out—just a few surfers and joggers—but the majority of the area was deserted.

She thought about what Jefferson had said. He had faith in her and was depending on her to finish this and she was definitely going to. Everyone had been protecting her. Now it was her chance to protect her family.

Assured of her resolve, she continued walking back toward the beach house. Then about fifty feet away she stopped as a familiar figure dashed out from between the buildings headed in her direction. He was dressed in a muted baby-blue sweat suit and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes; Samantha instantly knew it was Eric. No one else would dare wear something like that.

“Damn, girl, I been running up and down this beach for the last two hours.” Eric's breathless uttering didn't faze her. He slowed, then stopped running and leaned over to place his hands on his knees and catch his breath. She continued walking at her pace. As an automatic reflex he placed two fingers on his neck to gauge his heart rate. “Whoa, girl, wait up,” he said, hurrying to catch up with her again as she continued walking. “Look, we need to talk,” he said, rasping clumsily between each word.

She didn't answer.

He pulled out the ever-present pack of Newport cigarettes, hit it a few times against his hand, easing out a slim tobacco stick. He pulled out matches, lit the cigarette, then took a deep breath and coughed.

The absurdity of a health nut smoking two packs of cigarettes a day was completely lost on him. He walked alongside, puffing and coughing equally from the short jog and the smoke.

“You know, I forgot how beautiful you are. I couldn't take my eyes off you last night,” he continued as he looked her up and down. The sight of her now, dressed in the plunging bikini top and low-cut shorts sent an instant sexual charge through his body as his eyes took particular note of the chained waist belt dangling free from her hips. His attention finally drifted upward to her profile. “You know, I was thinking about it last night after you left. We should get together, you know, clean slate and all. You know I missed you, still do, truth be told. We had some good times, didn't we?”

“Un-huh, the last time was the best,” she said facetiously.

“You need to get over that,” he said, still following her step for step.

She stopped. “Oh, get over it,” she said as if a lightbulb had just turned on over her head. “You mean, get over it. So exactly what are you suggesting I get over? Get over not having a normal life? Get over people coming after me? Get over looking over my shoulder for the last four months? Exactly what part am I supposed to get over?”

“Hey, that wasn't all me, some of that might have been you and you know your brother.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Look, all I'm saying is don't mess this up for me,” he warned.

“You are so far out of your league,” she said, shaking her head pitifully. “You have no idea what's really going on, do you?” The paranoid, confused expression on his face made her chuckle. “Like I said, I'm the last person you need to worry about.” She turned to walk away.

“Come on,” he said, holding her arm securely, keeping her beside him. “We were good together,” he said wishfully. “You know that I still love you.” He leaned in closer.

“Oh, please, Eric, that boat has so sailed and sunk. What do you want?”

Seeing that he was getting nowhere with his available charm and current course, he changed tactics. “To get our business straight.”

“We don't have any business.” She glared at him evenly.

“So what did you mean when you said that I needed to worry about someone else?”

“Just what I said, you don't need to be concerned about me.”

“Like who? Who exactly are you talking about?”

“Ask your partner.”

“What does he have to do with any of this?” She didn't answer. “Look, I can dump him and we can walk away from this with at least ten million dollars, enough for a new life together. The down payment alone can set us up for life. And I'm handling the whole thing, he trusts me.”

“But do you trust him?”

Eric's face shadowed instantly. “You mean a double cross?” he asked with obvious concern.

“Look out for number one, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said. “So what's up with you and homeboy? Got a taste for some rich blue blood now?” Eric motioned to Jackson's house. He leaned back and glared at her. “Does he know about your father and your brother and the family business?”

“You are so pathetic,” she answered.

He smiled menacingly, presuming he had the upper hand. “Fine, whatever, just don't interfere with me and I won't interfere with you. And whoever you have working with you…”

She smiled, causing him to reconsider his last thought. “Sammy,” he said, using her nickname as he grabbed hold of her arm and held firm, “you know how I feel about you, I still love you.” He stepped closer, still thinking that emotion might soften her determination.

She winched back as if disgusted by the sight of him. She twisted her arm back, pulling his in an unnatural position, forcing him to crumple to his knees and release her.

“Remember what I said—don't interfere with me,” he warned, extinguishing the spent cigarette butt in the white sand as he stood up again.

She looked down at the remains, then at his silly smile. “Remember what I said. I'm not the person you need to worry about.” His face darkened again. She turned her back, smiling, happier than she had a right to be. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't need to get revenge on Eric. He was already too far gone in his own world. Nothing she could do could hurt him any more than his self-deluded ego and panicked paranoia. She chuckled. The joke was on him and he didn't even know it.

 

Jackson woke up alone. The sheets, long cooled, were neatly smoothed out beside him. He sat up slowly, looked around the room, hazily realizing that he was still in the guest bedroom. He lay back contently, closing his eyes and smiling. The scent of her perfume lingered on the sheets and instantly brought back sweet memories of their night together.

Like glittering sparks on diamonds, they shone with the resilience of a long-awaited fantasy come true. Samantha had been amazing. And together they had experienced a night of passion and ecstasy beyond his wildest imagination. They had talked and laughed and made love and finally fallen asleep in each other's arms.

As the blissful recollections faded, Jackson stirred once again, this time realizing that Samantha hadn't just gone to the bathroom or to get a quick bite to eat. He sat up more purposefully this time as the awareness occurred to him, she was gone. His first thought was of their last time together. She'd left him at the inn the same way, that time intending not to see him again.