Page 92 of Jackson
“Hold on tight, baby,” hesaid.
I tightened my legs around his waist as he fucked mehard.
* * *
“You are sosure of yourself, aren’t you?” I saidafterwards.
We were lying side by side; he was propped up on one elbow with his fingers tracing my tattoo. My sundress had landed somewhere on the floorearlier.
“Yep.”
“Arrogant,too.”
“Yep.”
“Good-looking,though.”
“Yep.”
“Crap inbed.”
“Ye…What?”
I laughed. “Kidding.”
“You fucking better be. You’ve soaked the sheets, baby, think that says something about my abilities. I’m the one that has to sleep on a wet patch all the time. In fact, I’m going in the otherroom.”
“You are so…” He silenced me with akiss.
Jackson wasn’t arrogant, he was sure of himself though; he had a level of confidence that didn’t fit with his insecurities. As I’d said before, he was a mass ofcontradiction.
He knew exactly what buttons to push to have me, ‘soak the sheets,’ as he so eloquently put it. I loved his humour; I loved the banter I had with him. In one way there was immaturity about him, humour I’d expect in someone younger, at other times, he was a man twice his age. I guessed that went back tochildhood.
“I’m going to cook you dinner,” he said, as he rolled to the edge of thebed.
He grabbed his towel, wiped himself down then pulled on someshorts.
“It’s not dinner time,” Isaid.
“It’s always dinnertime.”
He laughed as he left the bedroom. I smiled at his retreating back. I shook my head to stop the comparison, but it was too late, Dane had never cooked me dinner. I rolled to my side and picked up his sketchpad. I loved to look through his drawings, most of which were of me. I flicked through the last few pages and paused at one of a pregnant me. The pencil was slightly smudged by what looked like a droplet of water; it had stained thepage.
That was one of the things I loved about Jackson the most. He had no fear of showing his tears, of showing his vulnerability. I ran my fingers over the drawing, over my extended stomach. One day, I’d love to give that man a child. But only when I believed he would be the best father he could be, only when I was confident he had conquered hisdemons.
* * *
The smellof steaks grilling on the barbecue wafted down the balcony as I walked towards it. When Jackson said he was cooking dinner, it was always something grilled and a salad. He was a very healthy eater. I’d never seen him eat sweets or chocolate. He drank beer, he drank shots of Jack Daniels, but mostly, he drankwater.
“Look what my dad left for me,” I said waving the enveloped I’dopened.
“What isit?”
“Five thousanddollars!”
“Wow, that’s kind ofhim.”
“It will keep us going for a little while,” I said as I kissed hisshoulder.
