His eyes are cold, looking through me, almost as if he doesn’t recognize me. From his expression, I may well be a piece of furniture, or some rubbish the wind blew in to disturb his solitude.
I can’t bear his contempt. On one hand, I want to go in and explain what really happened last night, but what if he doesn’t believe me, what if he calls me a liar.
I start to turn around, suddenly eager to leave, to escape the accusation in his silence, but as I start to move, he springs up from his lying position.
“Olivia.”
Just my name, but it starts such a torrent of emotions inside me. I pause, waiting for him to say something, to ask me what really happened, but he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at me, his face impassive, leaving me to wonder what he’s thinking.
I take a step inside the small space. “Jackson...” I begin.
He doesn’t let me finish. He moves fast, reaching me in only two quick strides, and suddenly his fingers are lacing through my hair, lifting my face up to his as he crushes my lips with his.
There’s no gentleness in his kiss. It’s deep and demanding, but all I can feel is relief and happiness to be so close to him again.
He wouldn’t kiss me like this if he didn’t think Carter was lying, I think blissfully, as I surrender myself to him. His tongue pushes into my mouth, stroking mine, while his free hand grips my waist, pressing my body against his. I kiss him back, reveling in the feel of his chest against my breasts, desperate to show him that it’s him that I want. Just him, and no one else.
Without breaking the kiss, he moves his hands to my breasts, squeezing them both as he runs a thumb over my swollen nipples. A moan escapes me, as I lose myself in pleasure.
Suddenly, he pulls his lips from mine. I look up into his face, wondering why he’s stopped. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and his eyes are unfocused with arousal. He wants me, I think jubilantly, nothing has changed between us.
“What were you playing at?” His voice is like cold water on my skin. “Wasn’t it enough to have one guy crazy over you, you had to go for Carter too? Was it just him, Olivia? How many more were there?”
I close my eyes, tears welling up as pain rises like a flood through my veins. “Jackson...”
He’s not listening. He lowers his head and takes my lips again, mercilessly burying all my desperate explanations beneath the pleasurable assault of his lips. I find myself getting lost in what he is doing. Somewhere inside, I’m afraid that if I try to explain, that he'll stop, and I don’t want that.
He pulls me further into the gazebo, towards the seats, taking off my blouse and unhooking my bra, impatiently tossing them on the floor before he takes possession of my breasts with his lips and his hands. I cry out in pleasure, surrendering the insane pleasurable pulsing between my legs, and unwilling to acknowledge the dark cloud hanging over everything we’re doing.
His lips move up from my breasts over my collarbone, licking a trail of pleasure back to my lips, gently pushing me unto the seats while he works open the button of my jeans, his hand slipping inside to stroke me through my panties, making my body convulse.
“Oh Jackson,” I moan against his lips, writhing against his hand, and feeling my body tighten as pleasure builds up. When I’m almost certain that I'm going to explode, he stops stroking me, leaving me in desperate need for him.
I wait impatiently as he pulls down my jeans, and then his mouth is on me, his lips nuzzling me and sending tingles all over my body. His tongue strokes between my folds, and it’s warm and oh so sweet. He licks me until I’m blind, deaf, and screaming with helpless pleasure.
Then he turns me around, bending me over the seats, and spreading my legs with his knee. I wait impatiently while he undoes his trousers, and before long, I can feel his arousal probing me from behind, and slowly pushing inside to fill me completely.
I moan and grip the edge of the seat, feeling pleasure suffuse my body from my head to my toes. Almost immediately he’s moving, sliding smoothly in and out of me, each stroke so unbelievably sweet that I can almost feel myself going insane. His hands are around my breasts, gripping and squeezing as he thrusts into me from behind. My whole body fills with heat. It spreads from between my legs until it consumes me, until I lose control, my nails digging into the fabric of the seats as I surrender to my climax.
His fingers continue to tease my nipples, as he keeps moving, prolonging my pleasure. It feels so good that I can feel the heat and the pleasure building up again. Waves upon waves of ecstasy washing over me as Jackson stiffens and slams into me one last time, groaning as he comes inside me.
I collapse on the seat, trying to catch my breath. Jackson pulls out of me, the movement sending aftershocks of pleasure flowing through me. He gets up, and immediately starts to adjust his clothes.
I lie there, half-naked, and feeling exposed, wondering what I should say, somehow knowing from the way he doesn’t look at me, that he’s rejecting me and what we just did.
“Jackson…” I venture, wanting at least to tell him how I feel, how desperate I am for him, how impossible it would be even for me to be remotely attracted to anyone else. Surely, he has to believe me. He has to know that he owns me, totally, completely.
He looks at me, and the expression I see in his face almost kills me. He looks angry and sad, with such an expression of self-loathing. I don’t want to believe that he feels that way because of what’s happened between us. I get up and start to put on my clothes. He's fully dressed before I am, and he watches me pull up my jeans his face, almost like a stranger’s.
I pick up my panties and put them my pocket, embarrassed, nervous, afraid, and hopeful. I’m such a jumble of confused emotions. I want him to tell me that I have somehow misunderstood, that he knows Carter was lying about what happened.
But he doesn’t say anything, and his expression doesn’t change from the look of slight disgust, whether at himself for still wanting me, or at me for being the slut that he thinks I am, I don’t know.
I watch as he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there alone.
I start to cry, thinking how differently I’d expected last night to end, where I’d thought our relationship was going, and I feel like a fool. I stay in the gazebo as long as I can. When I get back into the house, its silent, and Jackson's car is not in the driveway. I don’t need anyone to tell me that he has gone.
Chapter Eleven