Freeing Destiny (Fate #2) (16 page)

The aura between us had become so relaxed since we decided to let down our guards. It took some ironing out and rearranging of details, but Jack had convinced me that I wasn’t just some hook-up he could let slip away into the far off depths of New York City. He wanted me to stick around—whether near or far—and unbeknownst to him, I was about to grant him that wish.

I could barely contain my excitement, so I blurted it out like a preschooler on the verge of peeing her pants. “I’m pushing back my move date. School doesn’t start until January, and Nina and Ryan said they’d settle the apartment without me. I’m staying a little longer, Jack. I’m giving us more time.” I
needed
more time with Jack because I’d come to the eye-opening realization that fate had brought us together. Fate, however, could not be held accountable for
keeping
us together. That was the tricky thing about fate. It could only bring you so far. The rest was up to you, not the universe or the alignment of the stars. Nope, we controlled our destiny and after the last few days of Jack getting deeper and deeper into the marrow of my being—fate and I did some serious brainstorming.

“W
hat
? Are you—Are you fucking serious? I thought—” Jack stammered, and nearly choked on his mouthful of beer. He blinked his eyelids like tiny hummingbird wings; his complexion blanched. The innocent shock smeared across his face was worth every moment of restless deliberation. He was floored and I was equally elated by his reaction.

“Serious! You happy about that or should I stick to the original plan?” I cocked a brow and attempted a casual sip of my Pinot. I didn’t want to appear too sure of myself—crap like that always backfired.

“
Happy
? Stella, I’m fucking ecstatic. I’m fucking elated. I’m fucking—”

“Damn, you drop the F bomb a lot when you’re happy.”

“Fuck yeah! You have no idea how happy this makes me! You’re not joking, are you? Because if this is some sort of cruel—If you’re trying to test me to see—”

“Calm down, cowboy. I’m not joking.” I reached across the table, calming his animated hands with mine. “I’m not ready to say good-bye. I worked out some things, made a few calls, and I’m staying until Thanksgiving.”

I could tell he was doing the mental math. It was the beginning of September. That meant we had two and a half months to figure this out and enjoy each other while we did.

“Is it sick that I already wish we had longer?” He hated time the same way I did. It was a vicious bitch, limiting us and ticking away the days into faint memories.

“No, believe me. I’ve thought the same thing, but I can’t put it off forever, baby. I made commitments.” I hoped it didn’t sound too harsh. I was already implicating a sense of weightiness to this popped-out-of-no-where relationship. It scared me to be moving so fast, but it
terrified
me when I thought of screwing up my future because of something as unreliable as love.

“I know, and I’m sorry to think that way. Let’s focus on the now. This is amazing news! What made you decide on something so bold? I was sure I’d be grabbing hold of your leg at the airport in an attempt to keep you here.”

“Looks like we can save the airport drama until November.”

“There will be no airport drama. By then things will be very, very different.” He spoke with confidence, his intent stare bright and unwavering. Well, one of us needed to be sure of this, because a part of me was still a wobbly mess of uncertainty. Yes, I needed more of Jack and yes, I wanted to explore the potential of something permanent between the two of us, but a teeny tiny part of me feared I’d become reckless.

As I squirmed in my seat, trying to rid myself of overworked nerves, Jack leaned forward, seemingly concerned. “You sure you’re okay with this? I hope it wasn’t something I said that forced you to—”

Shaking my head, I took my turn to explain this the right way. “It was
everything
you said, Jack. Let’s make that clear. I wouldn’t stay if it weren’t for you and all the things you’ve said and done to me since that day at Big Sur.”
Okay, maybe that came out wrong.

Jack rubbed his chin, paying close attention to my clumsy attempt at an honest explanation.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. What I meant was: of course staying has everything to do with you. But it wasn’t forced and this isn’t against my will. I want to stay. I
need
to stay. I’ve never done something so adventurous or impulsive—” Why was I fumbling my words? I couldn’t get this right. “Crap! I’m not saying it right.”

“By all means, say what’s on your mind,” he mocked, leaning back in his chair as if preparing himself for the ultimate blunder.

Cocky son of a gun. I’ll show him.
I could be eloquent—when my heart wasn’t flip flopping around like some guppy out of water. Channeling my inner confident woman, I stood and extended a hand to my suspicious suitor.

A live band played in the room adjoining ours. Patrons were seated at the bar, tapping their feet to the jazzy instrumental sound. A few couples danced cheek to cheek in the center of a tiny dance floor. That’s where I wanted Jack. In his arms I’d be able to tell him exactly how I felt.

“Dance with me.” My purr reminded myself of Baby in
Dirty Dancing.
The thought of doing a sexy mambo with Jack brought a smile to my lips.

He eyed the fifty-somethings swaying to the oldie but goody, flashed a skeptical grin. “Really? Here?”

“What’s wrong with here?”

“I don’t know, it’s just so—intimate.”

I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You have a problem getting intimate with me all of a sudden?”

He nibbled my ear and sent jabs of warmth throughout my veins. “I’ve got no problem with that at all,” he whispered. And now I have two and a half months to be all kinds of intimate with my Sunshine.”

The soothing jazz should’ve been all I needed to get me going, but Jack’s words were music to my ears. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Laughing, he twirled me onto the dance floor, and dipped me in a way that put Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to shame. The rest of our date was a blur of happy conversation and playful murmurs, but it wasn’t until we were back at his apartment that we settled into our momentary heaven.

Jack hadn’t let go of my hand since we left the restaurant. The way he clutched it had me thinking he was holding on while he could, in disbelief of my decision. And when he finally brought my fingers to his lips, nibbling my knuckles and dragging my skin against his scruffy cheek, his words spoke of the fear he was trying so hard to conceal. “I can’t believe you’re staying. How on earth did my charm finally win you over?”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I dove in for the kind of kiss that showed him exactly how powerful we were together. “I can’t believe it, myself,” I admitted with my nose pressed against his. Pulling back to scrutinize my mysterious man, I joked, “Did you slip something into my drink at my mother’s wedding? Drug me every night we’ve been together? Hypnosis maybe? This is
so
not me. What have you done to me, Jack Davis?”

Jack laughed, his chest rising and falling against mine. I loved the sound of his happiness, it was infectious.

“Shit! Did I break you?”

His hands roved my body, his fingers tickling whatever skin was exposed.

“Quite the opposite.” I spoke the truth, unafraid of saying too much. We made a breakthrough two nights ago when we considered what each of us expected from the other, and now there was no turning back. “I never imagined saying this so early in a relationship, but I feel whole when I’m with you, Jack. Like a part of me was missing until you came along. Does that sound crazy?”

“Yup, you sound certifiable,” he deadpanned, and then backed away as if I’d come on too strong. But he couldn’t keep the façade up for long—his face beamed, his glacier blue eyes glistened and his arms enveloped me in their warmth. “It
all
sounds crazy, but for the first time ever I don’t give a shit about how it sounds, or what it looks like. I like us together. You’re my girl, and I don’t care if it’s too soon or whatever the fuck the skeptics have to say. This feels right, and you wouldn’t be switching around all your plans if you didn’t think so too.”

His thoughts mirrored my own. This was right. It quelled my doubts; no regrets. I had to see this through because a pull so intense couldn’t be ignored. After weighing my options, I didn’t have anything to lose by postponing my plans. But if I left Jack behind without giving in to what we felt for each other—that was the kind of remorse I couldn’t live with.

I kicked off my flats and got comfortable on the couch. Jack flicked on the TV and tuned to a station that aired live concerts. Recognizing the band as one we both loved, he set the remote down and leaned into the soft cushions.

“So, how did your mom take the news? Is she upset?”

I was momentarily distracted—aka finding a way to make it look as though I hadn’t heard him—by The Dave Matthews Band jamming to one of my favorite tunes, when Jack cleared his throat and flung a pillow my way.

“Hello?” he sang, waiting for my reply.

“Um . . . my mom?” I wished there was a way to avoid the question. I hadn’t told her yet. She wouldn’t be mad, per se, but I was certain she wouldn’t be thrilled either.

When I took a beat too long to elaborate, Jack muted the concert and turned to me, his foot tucked beneath his butt. “You didn’t tell her yet, did you?”

It was times like these I wished I had more experience in the seduction department. If I flashed a boob or licked my lips would it distract him enough to drop the subject? I didn’t want to talk about this. It would make me second guess myself, and I’d already come to terms with my decision. I was doing this for me and no one else—except of course Jack. I had to keep sight of that or I’d unravel and lose my nerve. Going against
the plan
was not something I was used to. I didn’t need the reminder of my mother’s possible disapproval to spook me now.

So I did what I thought any sly lover would do when she was trying to divert her man’s attention.

I straddled him.

“I don’t want to talk about my mom right now.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. Whispering was sultry, right?

Refusing to reciprocate my touch as my hands crept under his T-shirt, Jack shook his head. “I know what you’re doing and—”

“And is it working?” The bulge in his jeans told me it was indeed working, but just in case, it was time to turn up the heat. Abandoning the deep cut ridges of his tanned abdomen, I tugged at the hem of my own shirt and lifted it over my head. This was his get out of jail free card; I was giving him permission. Sure, it was to my own advantage, but I wanted this, too.

“Oh, Jesus, Stella. You’re fucking killing me.” He gawked at my breasts, covered in a thin layer of lace, and his excitement twitched between my legs.

I stifled a laugh—guys were just too easy, and a nice rack could divert the most astute male’s attention. “Am I, now?” I grabbed his hands and put them on me. He was such a gentleman—part of his charm—but right now I didn’t want polite Jack. I was ready for more. “Touch me, Jack.” I begged. My voice was no longer hushed and dull, but a scorching hot, gravely whimper.

A husky growl escaped him as he arched forward, bringing his lips to my neck and trailing his tongue to the swell of my breasts. I moaned with the slightest touch of his mouth on my bare skin; goose bumps coated my body as his hands kneaded my breasts, heavy with desire.

“This feels so good,” I admitted. Blood began to pound at my pressure points. My cheeks flushed with heat; I was embarrassed for a moment by my brashness, but then gave in to the heavenly feeling of letting go of my inhibitions as Jack’s hands worked their way around my back to unclasp my bra.

“So good, Sunshine. So, so, good.”

An unexpected giggle snuck out. Apparently, men were only capable of a few words in the heat of passion.

I allowed his hands to take control. His ministrations were slow and soft, but his heartbeat and his thick breathing told me how desperate he was for more. Velvety fingertips caressed my spine, creating a deeper, more connected kiss. It was hungry and demanding; pleasure sang through my veins.

When the kiss wasn’t enough to control my frantic writhing, I yanked at the hem of his T-shirt and attempted to remove it. Jack’s hands covered mine, though, and put a stop to my eager efforts. I disconnected from our kiss to weigh his expression.
Why is he stopping me? We’ve spoken about this. We’ve already done more. I’m ready
“Why’d you stop?” It came out too squeaky, too unsure. I was half naked and he owed me the same vulnerability.

“Because once your skin is touching mine I won’t be able to control myself. We have to stop now or it’ll go too far.”

Fighting the urge to cover up and run away, I tilted my head and searched for the right thing to say without making this awkward. “I told you I was ready. I’m staying. For you.”

Cupping my face in his hands, Jack’s eyes did nothing to settle me. “I don’t want to rush you, Stella. You’ve already broken so many rules for me. You don’t need to do this to prove anything.”