Running From Destiny (11 page)

He knows. So I decide to play stupid.

“What are you talking about?” It may not be the best argument, but he’s caught me totally off guard.

“One thing you will find out about
me Ally is I don’t like liars.” The doors close on us after we have stepped inside the elevator, and he steps close to me, his hand on my back and hovers his mouth over my ear. “I felt your legs squeeze around me and your face pressed against my back. I also believe I heard a scream.” He looks down at me, his lip curved in a semi-smile. “I’ve been with enough women to know what one looks like after she comes.”

His eyes are heated, lids are hooded, and he’s looking
at me like he wants to eat me. Well, okay, thank you sir.

NO.
Really, he’s standing extremely close and totally in my personal space. His hand is still on my lower back, but now his fingers are brushing the soft silk of the camisole under my jacket. His long fingers are gliding along the silky material and setting my skin on fire. I hear a hitch in his breath and he presses harder against me, pulling me into his body.

“Why are we here?” I startle him out of whatever
wicked thoughts he’s having. “I thought we were going to dinner?”

“We are, Hilda has prepared dinner for us.”

“Hilda?” I ask.

“My housekeeper slash cook.
She’s a live in, but she has her own separate wing, so you’ll only see her at dinner.” He tells me. Wow, he has a cook? He lives in a high rise...no wait, he has three homes, a fancy motorcycle and I’ve already seen the sports car and Bentley limo. Damn, he must have more money than he knows what to do with. My brain starts going into overdrive again, wondering why I’m really here.

He seems to sense it, because he stops brushing his fingers on me and lifts my chin with his other hand, t
urning my head back toward him. “You think too much, Ally. Why do you find it so unbelievable that I would want to spend time with you?” He asks, while staring at my lips. Suddenly, all the moisture leaves my mouth and heads south, joining what remains from the ride here. That look on his face is full of seduction and sex.

He leans down and softly brushes his l
ips over mine, pressing gently. After the motorcycle ride and his heated looks, I become mush. He pulls back quickly though and dries my bottom lip off with his thumb. “You’re beautiful Alexandra. Stop analyzing every detail and just let go with me.” He whispers, brushing his lips across my ear and I shiver.

I can’t even respond, so I just nod my head.

The door opens into a lobby of sorts, but I look around and don’t see any doors. This must be the Penthouse. The space is wide open and airy with black and white checkerboard floors and expensive looking artwork adorns the walls. “Wow.” Is all I can say, because apparently the cat has my tongue hostage, again.

He escorts me into the large sunken great room. Two steps down and all windows
on two sides overlook Buckhead. A large cream colored sectional sofa dominates the room, paired with dark wood tables, unique collectible items on the mantle of a large fireplace, mirrors and more artwork. I am stunned. I thought I had a nice apartment, but this is unreal. The upper level holds a large dining table with two place settings. There are candles and flowers in the center and a bottle of something in a shiny silver bucket.

“So, this is how the other half lives, huh?” I ask.

He chuckles. “It’s my home away from home. If I have to spend a lot of time here, why not make it comfortable?” He says.

“Comfortable? It’s like a museum.
I’m afraid to touch anything.”

“Nonsense!
It’s just material things. Everything is replaceable.” He nudges my back. “Go ahead, look around and make yourself at home. I’m going to check on Hilda and see how dinner is coming along.”

He disappears around the corner an
d I make my way to the window. The cars down below on Peachtree Street look like ants crawling at a snail’s pace. The sky is a clear blue today, just a few fluffy clouds passing by. It’s summer, so the sun doesn’t set until nine o’clock or so. Plenty of daylight left.

After a few moments, I feel
him behind me. I don’t see him. I feel him. Warmth surrounds me and I feel myself responding, a rush of heat envelopes my body. I know I’m weak now and I’ve tried to be strong, but he’s breaking through all of my defenses and bringing down walls that I worked so hard to build.

I’ve never been lucky in love.
In fact, I’ve never even been unlucky in love. Love is a naughty four letter word in my vocabulary. Sure, I’ve dated and had boyfriends. And of course, there was Ryan. But I have never felt such an influx of emotions in my life. Confusion, fear and lust. It’s a strange combination.

He places his hands on my shoulders and gives a little squeeze and I’m taken back to Miami when he did that, but the feeling I have now is so different
from then. I was angry at Heather then, and I left those feelings in Miami. This is different.

“Come, dinner is ready.” He says.

I turn to face him and freeze. He’s looking at me in such a way that my muscles tense and my eyes glaze over. He takes my hand and leads me to the table, pulling my chair out for me to sit.

I look at the display of food. Gracious!
There’s enough food here to feed an army. Filet Mignon, roasted asparagus, the fresh kind, not the slimy stuff that comes from a can, sautéed potatoes, and warm dinner rolls. It smells amazing.

We eat in companionable silence, but make small talk and I attempt to get to know him better, but he seems to be p
retty closed off about himself. I’m struggling not to wolf the food down like a starving boy. I’m already chubby, so I don’t need to act like food is what comforts me, even though it is. I eat as much as I can before my stomach turns into knots, having only finished half the meal, I suddenly feel so full that I can’t eat another bite.

I wipe my mouth with the linen napkin, then fold it neatly and tuck it under
the lip of my plate. I’m done. My nerves are shot and I can’t eat another bite.

Jackson also seems to be done, as he has pushed his chair back and is round
ing the table to me. I stand and reach for my plate to take it to the kitchen. “Leave it, Hilda will get it later. Come and sit with me. We’ll talk.” He takes my hand and leads me back to the great room.

Sitting
down on the plush sofa, he motions for me to join him. But I don’t, I sit in the overstuffed chair facing the sofa because I don’t want to be too close to him, I can’t. He gives me a look that says I’ve made the wrong move, but he doesn’t say anything. I lean back and cross my legs, placing my trembling hands in my lap.

“So, Alexandra.
Tell me about yourself.” He starts the conversation.

“We’ve had this conversation, Jackson, multiple times. You need to think of a bett
er way to start a conversation. I’ve told you all I need to tell you at this point, more than once. It’s your turn. Tell me, why am I here?” Yes, I have put on my big girl panties, though they are extremely uncomfortable considering the dampness. I stand up and move to the window, staring down at the street trying not to pick at my crotch and adjust those damp panties. I can see my reflection in the glass and Jackson moves in behind me.

“Why not?
You’re beautiful, smart and insanely sexy. Tell me, Alexandra. What happened to you in your past that leads you to believe you aren’t worthy of male attention? Who hurt you?”

Well, let’s just cut to the chase then, shall we?

“Really? You have to ask that, Jackson? Look at me!” I cry as I look at myself in the glass “I’m too short and too round for most men’s taste, but no one hurt me, not technically anyway.” I turn my eyes down, really not wanting to get into the story of Ryan; it’s none of his business anyway.

“All
y, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m not most men. I run a magazine for plus size women, though you aren’t plus size. Some men like a little something to hold on to, a little cushion for the pushin’ if you know what I mean.” He says as he waggles his eyebrows, and I fight off a chuckle. “Those other women are stick thin and men like me feel like they will break if we touch them. I prefer real women, not skinny, bony model types. You are real, inside and out, and I just want to get to know you better.” He tells me while perusing my body in the mirror.

Good answer.
Though I am not sure it’s the right answer. I can’t help but feel there is something more, something he’s not telling me. Whatever it is, I’m not even sure I want to know. I hesitate for a few moments, because I’m not sure how to respond to what he’s just said. Real women?

“Sit, let me explain.” He says as
he leads me back to the sofa.

“Ally, the av
erage women is a size fourteen. Did you know Marilyn Monroe was a size fourteen? The world loved her and she was a sexy, desirable woman. The women that grace the pages of Vogue and Cosmo, they are airbrushed so much to cover their bony structures. Frankly, I think they all need to eat a few cheese burgers.” He laughs.

Oh, I can eat a
cheese burger, that’s for sure. No doubt.

I’m at a loss for words once a
gain. I had no idea Marilyn Monroe was a size fourteen. I’m a fourteen, well I guess really a twelve but who’s counting? Interesting.

By this point, Jackso
n has moved a bit closer to me. So close I can smell him and feel the heat radiating off of him. He leans in and grasps my chin, turning my face to his. “You fit me, Alexandra. I love your spunk, your style and your desire to succeed. You work hard and are committed to your job. I’ve met women that want me to support them, take them around the world and spend money on them. That’s all they’re after, they just want to be eye candy on my arm. I’m done with those women. I want you, Alexandra.” And he goes in for the kill.

His hand slides down my cheek and he pulls me in. His lips meet mine, but I tense up an
d fight him. His tongue slides across my bottom lip and I cave. Who knew that act would be so erotic. I give him access to my mouth and his tongue takes over, sliding against mine, dancing and tangling until they become one. Jackson tugs my hair back, tilting my head, to give him access to my neck. His tongue snakes out and traces a line from my earlobe to the hollow between my neck and my collar bone, his lips grazing the flesh sending chills up my spine.

I groan as his other hand softly brushes against my breast, causing my nipple to pucker tightly.
He gives a gentle tug, rolling and pinching my nipple between his fingers. I groan again as my head rolls to the side. “Oh God, Jackson.” I whisper.

He takes that as an invitation to continue and his lips leave my neck as he pulls my jacket over my shoulders, down my ar
ms and throwing it behind him. He moves the spaghetti strap of my camisole down my shoulder, replacing it with his lips. His heated breath is a soft caress on my skin. The cool air of the room is a sharp contrast.

I can feel
myself spinning out of control. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this. Wait, no it hasn’t. I’ve never felt this way before, so consumed, so desired. Lost in my thoughts, I don’t even realize that my camisole is now pooled around my waist, my cream lace bra exposed to Jackson’s heated gaze. I know I need to stop him, but I’m not sure I can now.

He gently lowers the cup of my strapless bra from my left breast and exposes my nipple to wrap his
lips around it. I suck in a breath and exhale loudly, heat pooling low in my belly and moisture seeps through my.....Oh My.... I lose all sense of reality when Jackson firmly bites my nipple, then tenderly licks the pain away. I am lost in the sensations and my mind drifts off.

His arms go around me and his nimble fingers quickly unclasp my bra and he pull
s it from my body, exposing me. Both of his strong hands cup and squeeze my breasts and he groans in my ear. “Beautiful, Alexandra.” I moan softly as my name rolls off of his lips.

My face is hot and flushed and
my breathing is heavy and deep. Yes, I am panting like a dog; and I know I need to stop this before it goes any further, but I can’t. I won’t. It feels too good to stop.

His hands skim my sides and his fingers sink i
nto the waistband of my skirt.

He tugs on my skirt and my hips instinctively rise, allowing him to pull it over
my ass and down over my thighs. He pulls back and completely removes it so that I am sitting there in only my panties and my camisole that is wrapped about my tummy, hiding the love handles. I am now extremely glad I decided not to wear the grannie panties. I opted for my cream lace boy shorts instead, and Jackson seems to be pleased.

“This is why I asked you
to not wear panties, Alexandra. Now we have another layer to remove before I can continue.” He says. “But first, I want to look at you. Stand up.” He demands. He really needs to learn to ask me to do these things instead of telling me. Great, now I sound like my mother.

I stand up on shaky legs. Yes, I am trembling.
I am so full of excitement and fear that I’m literally shaking. Jackson stands up to face me, and my arms instinctively cross to cover my breasts. “Oh Alexandra, never cover yourself. You’re shaking. Are you cold?” He asks in my ear as he wraps himself around me.