His Unfaithful Wife Ch. 02

Chapter 2

I left the club less than an hour after Jackson. I had much more to drink than I had planned and it was starting to manifest itself as a headache. I needed to get home, take a shower and hydrate. Even though I lived only two blocks from the Mad Hatter, Kate and Isobel insisted I take a cab.

I let myself into my ninth floor condo and flicked on the overhead kitchen lights. There was another condo building across the street. I leaned against the living room window and looked across at the inhabited boxes that were brightly lit, exposing vignettes of the lives led behind the glass and brick. There was a middle-aged couple watching television; the man was laughing, the woman looked bored. A teenager was on her phone, gesticulating dramatically as she seemed to chatter non-stop. A woman was curled up in an armchair reading, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair between her fingers. I glanced up three stories, four windows to the right. The window was dark. Sometimes the man who lived there enjoyed putting on a show. He often walked around in just his boxers and sometimes wore nothing at all. Once he even jerked off while I watched. Call me a pervert but I enjoyed it.

Actually, I was envious of his nerve. It was a secret fetish of mine. Being watched. I often left the blinds open and the lights on as I walked around my home in my undies, silently thrilled by the thought of someone watching me and being turned on by my brazenness. I hadn’t pleasured myself in front of the open window though. I suppose I had limits, after all I was a psychologist with a professional reputation to uphold. I’d save the truly bold and risqué acts for a time when I visited NYC or some other large city where my anonymity was assured.

I thought of Jackson. My hand slipped inside my blouse as I remembered the feel of his lips against mine and the imprint of his erection against my hip. My nipples were still engorged and I’d be willing to bet my panties were damp too. Did I dare shove my hand down the front of my underwear, here on display inside my own brightly lit box for the world to see?

No. Sadly, or maybe fortunately, I wasn’t that drunk. I turned away from the window, unbuttoning my blouse as I walked toward the bedroom. I’d save my naughty fingering for the privacy of my shower.

************

I slept late on Saturday, waking with a jolt and remembering why I avoided tequila. Worst. Hangovers. Ever. This morning was no exception. I shuffled to the kitchen and washed down acetaminophen with a full glass of water, hoping hydration would dull the ache in my head and settle the queasiness in my stomach. I made toast and tea and was just about to curl up in my favorite armchair to eat my simple breakfast when my cell phone rang.

“Did you awake in the third circle of hell this morning too?” Kate moaned before I could even say hello.

I snorted a laugh, sadistically pleased I wasn’t the only one suffering after our evening of overindulgence.

“I’m fine,” I said with false brightness.

“Liar,” she called my bluff. “So where is handsome Jackson Spencer taking you tonight?”

“Oh my God,” I gasped.

“What?! Don’t tell me you forgot about your hot date with the yummiest and most sought after bachelor in the city?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I haven’t forgotten. But I did just remember that we didn’t make a specific plan. We simply said dinner but we didn’t set a time or place.”

“What?” Kate’s voice was so shrill I had to move the phone away from my ear. “Did you at least exchange numbers?”

“Nope. We didn’t. And my number isn’t listed,” I said, my hopes dashed with the realization that that even though I’d finally met a decent man, I’d let him slip through my fingers.

“That sucks, Jen. Why don’t you look him up? You call him!” she suggested.

“No, no, no,” I protested. “Dinner was his idea. As much as I was looking forward to seeing him again, I am not going to pathetically seek him out. Perhaps I had simply been an amusing distraction to him.”

“No way! Did you see the way he was looking at you? He wasn’t amused or distracted. He was interested. He looked like he wanted to devour you. He was all in.”

“Appearances can be deceiving. Obviously. I’m going for a run clear my head and work off this disappointment. Can we talk later?”

“Sure, sweetie. I’m really sorry, Jen.”

“Thanks. Talk later. Stay hydrated and feel better.” I ended the call and took a sip of tea, mentally kicking myself for not exchanging numbers with Jackson. Dammit. He had seemed like the real deal.

Breakfast helped settle my stomach and the meds were easing my headache. I quickly changed into shorts and a tee, brushed my teeth and pulled my long, curly blonde hair into a high ponytail. I was relieved to see that my light blue eyes weren’t as bloodshot as I had feared. Though my pale skin looked almost translucent and the light dusting of freckles across my nose and cheeks stood out in stark contrast. I laced up my running shoes, selected a playlist on my phone and headed out the front door of my condo building to pound the pavement. I loved running. It was my workout of choice. I focused my attention on the rhythmic rus escort beat of my footsteps against the concrete sidewalks and the music funneling into my brain through my ear buds, hoping to obliterate the disappointment that was consuming me since my conversation with Kate.

He didn’t really want me.

Even though I think I might really want him. After one dance. One kiss. Dammit! What the hell was wrong with me? It was just a dance. Just a kiss. He was just a guy. I pushed myself harder, running faster, jogging in place at the red lights. I wanted to outrun the memory of his lips against mine. Of how unbelievably good it felt to be held in his arms. He made me feel safe and desirable. He made me want to break rules and push boundaries and see if he was as good at other intimacies as he was at kissing. No matter how hard I pushed myself I couldn’t forget him. He was at the forefront of every thought. Defeated, I turned around and started the long run back home.

************

Thirty minutes later, I let myself into my building, pulling out my ear buds as I walked across the marble floor of the lobby to the elevators.

“Hello Jennifer,” a voice, that voice, spoke from across the room.

I spun around. It couldn’t be? But somehow it was! He was here. In my building. Jackson Spencer was standing not ten feet away from me. Oh God! I was sweating and probably looked like death warmed over.

“Jackson! What on earth are you doing here? How did you know where I live?”

“I work in security. You were easy to find. Plus, I realized that we hadn’t decided on a restaurant or time to meet. I buzzed your condo and when there was no answer I decided to wait around. See if I could catch you. I hope you don’t mind.” And then a little softer, he added, “I didn’t really want to wait several more hours to see you.”

My heart melted at that last bit.

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at my worse.”

“If this is your worse, I’m in more trouble than I thought. You look beautiful. Healthy. Strong. Complete turn on.”

I couldn’t help myself, my gaze fluttered to his groin and sure enough, there was very convincing evidence indicating he was indeed turned on. Impressive.

He smiled as my eyes returned to meet his gaze.

He moved toward me and softly laughed, “You’re so busted.”

I grinned in return even though I could feel my cheeks reddening. “Please don’t come any closer. I’m a sweaty mess. Truly.”

“I don’t care.” He completely ignored my request and walked toward me, leaning down to kiss me, softly, briefly. Even though our lips were the only part of our bodies touching, poof, just like that I was a quivering mass of need.

I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips and kiss him senseless. Instead, exercising Herculean strength, I stepped back and asked, “So we’re still on for later then?”

“Let’s think about later, later. Right now, why don’t you show me your place? I could help you wash your beautiful hair in the shower,” his grin was infectious and he wrapped a curl around his finger.

“So much for taking things slow.”

“Damn. I was hoping you were too drunk to remember that bit.”

“I was not drunk!”

“Yeah, you were a little. My fault though. Sending over all that tequila. Are you okay today?”

“I’m fine. I was disappointed when I realized we hadn’t exchanged numbers. I thought I’d seen the last of you.”

“I’m going to marry you. Of course you haven’t seen the last of me.”

I laughed at his outrageous flirtation.

He smiled, good-naturedly, “Just wait. You’ll see.”

“Dinner first. Restaurant? Time?” I was pleased that I sounded much calmer than I felt.

“There’s a nice Italian place a couple streets west of here. Say 6:30?”

“I know the place and the time works for me.”

“Kiss me good bye, Jennifer.”

I brushed a teasing kiss against his lips and ran to the elevator before I could change my mind and drag him up to my apartment so I could have my wicked way with him. My heart suddenly felt light and my body was tingling with anticipation of the night ahead. I waved goodbye as the doors of the elevator closed, his handsome smiling face imprinted in my brain as I bounded into my condo to call Kate and share my unbelievable news!

************

I was going to be late. I changed my clothes for the fourth time, discarding the red slinky slip dress that screamed sex for a slightly more subdued ivory silk sheath. Instead of hugging my curves, it glanced off them. I nodded my head in approval at my reflection. Bright purple stilettos provided a shocking splash of color. I’d left my hair loose and kept my makeup simple. My stomach was fluttering with butterflies and I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this nervous for a date.

I stuffed essentials in my clutch and hurriedly left my condo, anxious to get to the restaurant at least reasonably on time. I checked my lipstick in the mirrored wall of the elevator on the ride down. The restaurant was only two blocks away so it would probably be faster to walk than hail a cab. My psychology practice was within easy walking distance of my yenimahalle escort home so I’d never bothered the expense or hassle of getting a car. The elevator doors opened and for the second time that day, the breath whooshed from my lungs. Jackson Spencer was standing in my lobby, holding a ridiculously large bouquet of wild flowers.

“Jackson! Hello. I thought we were going to meet at the restaurant.”

“Hello, beautiful. We were but I wanted to give you these. You look stunning,” he smiled, handing me the flowers and leaning in to press his lips against mine. The intimacy and assumed familiarity of the greeting thrilled me.

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.” He was wearing a dark grey suit and black shirt, no tie. He looked edible. I resisted the urge to stand back and let my gaze devour him. My body reacted to him instantly. He had barely touched me and I felt as energized as a live wire.

I swear I lost track of time and several moments passed while we simply stood there gazing at each other. With a jolt I realized we were still in my lobby and I was holding a huge bouquet of flowers. “I guess I should pop these in water before we go.”

“Lead the way,” he smiled. Clever man. He was going to see the inside of my home after all.

His draped his arm across my back letting his hand rest lightly on my hip during the elevator ride to the ninth floor. It felt territorial and possessive, as though he was claiming me as his, silently and confidently. I unlocked my apartment door and he followed me in, glancing around at the bright space. I was a minimalist when it came to decorating. I liked muted tones and clean lines and clutter gave me hives.

“Very nice,” he said, smiling at me.

“Thank you,” I replied, reaching into a cupboard to grab the art deco vase my grandmother had given me as a housewarming gift, days before she died. I added water and quickly arranged the flowers. My nerves were back in full force and I was anxious to see where this date was going. I wasn’t used to unpredictable men. Jackson was the master of unpredictability.

“The flowers are beautiful. Thank you.” I smiled up into his dark brown eyes.

He stepped forward and I automatically took a step back, my hip lightly bumping the kitchen counter as he placed an arm on either side of me, effectively boxing me in. He was smiling, his eyes warm as his gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth. I was certain if he kissed me now, we’d never make it to dinner. Leaning forward so that his body was pressed fully against me, he touched his lips against mine. His hands skimmed up my bare arms and then my neck, his touch light and teasing. His hands tangled in my hair as he deepened the kiss. He didn’t even try to hide his erection and my body responded with a will of its own, my hip grinding against his jutting hardness. He groaned and plunged his tongue into my mouth. Teasing, plundering, demanding a response. I kissed him back with equal passion. Our moans mingled as one of his hands dropped to cup my bottom and reposition me so that he was pressing more intimately against me. He held me firmly in place as his hips started a slow and steady thrusting against my core, while he continued to ravage my mouth.

Rational thought tried to prevail. I just met this man last night. Don’t know anything about him. Oh God, that felt good. If he kept pressing against me like that I was going to have an orgasm. My breathing became more labored. I had to stop. He had to stop. Oh God don’t stop, I silently begged as that beautiful rush of tension built deep in my womb. His other hand moved from my hair to cup my breast. I gasped loudly as he pinched my nipple between his thumb and finger, lightly twisting through the fabric of my dress and bra. It was enough. I was getting closer and closer to orgasm. Just. One. More. Thrust. Oh! And there it was! I cried out as the tension built to a surprisingly strong release and I fell apart in his arms.

He looked at me with complete awe. “Jennifer,” my whispered name sounded like a prayer on his lips.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” I gasped, embarrassed that I let myself go so completely. And by let myself go I mean I had just allowed a virtual stranger dry hump me to orgasm in the middle of my pristine kitchen.

“My God you’re incredible. You’re so responsive. So sexy. So beautiful. I want you.” He punctuated each statement with kisses against my neck, my jawline, my cheek and my lips.

I struggled to catch my breath, shaken by the intensity of my response to this man. I felt as though I was under a spell. This didn’t happen to me. I was always the cool and sensible one. I didn’t rush headlong into relationships, or orgasms, with men I had just met.

“What in the world are you doing to me?” I asked, with a feeling akin to panic rising quickly inside.

“I could ask you the same question,” he moaned.

I looked at him quizzically.

“Jennifer when you came into the bar last night, I felt an instant connection. I know that sounds like crazy talk but I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Some primal part of me recognized you as being mine and I wanted to claim you. Immediately. Completely.”

“As a feminist I should be offended and I don’t understand why I’m not,” I muttered, lightly biting my lip as I fought to make sense of my feelings.

“I know it isn’t rational. But it feels very real. I don’t want to scare you away. I know I’m getting way ahead of myself here. I can’t help kissing you and touching you. I love that I just gave you pleasure. Sweet Jesus, I think I now exist simply to give you pleasure. Watching you come was the most intense experience I’ve had in a very long time.”

“Jackson, I’m not the giddy girl type. I don’t lose my head over guys I meet in bars. I’m too practical and level headed for that.”

“Until me?” he asked, his sad eyes revealing that vulnerability, not cockiness, was behind the question.

“Until you,” I softly confirmed.

He pulled me close and hugged me tightly against him. “I believe we have the potential for something very special and rare. Let’s nurture it carefully,” his words felt like a promise.

I nodded, suddenly feeling emotional and raw.

“I want to throw you over my shoulder, find your bedroom and make love to you all night. Make no mistake, I want to fuck you too. Hard. Fast. Completely out of control. But let’s go to dinner first. Let’s talk and get to know each other better so that later we can make love and explore each other not as strangers, but as friends. If that is what we both want.”

My head was spinning. He was confident and bold and certain. I felt none of those things. I was definitely intrigued and physically attracted to this man. And I was possibly feeling a connection. Or maybe it was the realization that he had just given me the most intense orgasm of my life. And we weren’t even naked. “Dinner I can handle. Everything else, I’m not sure.”

He kissed me again, sweetly and reverently. “Let’s go feast then. I have a car waiting for us downstairs.”

He threaded his fingers through mine as we returned to the lobby and the waiting car. He rested his hand on my knee during the brief drive to the restaurant and kept glancing at me with a look of wonder. I was secretly pleased and relieved that he was feeling as unsettled as me. He wasn’t like anyone I had ever dated in the past. Most men had trouble being open and honest with their feelings. Jackson was so open and vulnerable that I was having trouble processing all that he was throwing at me in such a short span of time. I was looking forward to the evening ahead more than I could ever remember looking forward to a date, or anything, in the past.

************

The restaurant was intimate and understated with dimly lit booths offering privacy. I had expected Jackson to sit next to me in the booth but instead he sat across from me. My surprise must have registered on my face because he grinned sheepishly and by way of apology said, “If I sit next to you, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“I appreciate the effort,” I said, smiling and blushing as our waiter filled our water glasses and rhymed off the daily specials.

“Tell me all about you,” Jackson softly commanded, pushing the menu aside after the waiter hurriedly walked away to attend to other customers.

“What would you like to know?” I asked, sipping my water.

“Start by telling me about your family, your friends and your job. I want to know where you were born and raised. Where you went to school. Men you’ve loved. I want to know everything. The important stuff. The little stuff. And everything in between.”

And so I gave him the condensed version of my life so far, interrupted now and then as we chose our wine and ordered our meals. I told him how my parents had died when I was a toddler in a boating accident and how my grandmother, a headstrong, compassionate woman, had raised me. I had adored her and losing her a few years ago had been the saddest, most difficult time of my life. I had no siblings or cousins. I was effectively alone in the world. Kate had been my best friend since undergrad school. I met Isobel through Kate. They were both the closest I had to family. Especially Kate. I filled him in on my undergrad and graduate programs and told him about my practice as a clinical psychologist. I confessed that there had been embarrassingly few men in my life so far. He reached for my hand when I told him about my parents and didn’t let go until our meals were placed in front of us. We traded questions and answers throughout the meal as he fed me bites of his ravioli and I returned the gesture by shyly offering him my risotto. He made me feel comfortable and his attention never wavered. I was getting a stronger sense that I really did like this man. I was developing a deeper appreciation for who he was and what he stood for. He told me about his passion for his company and I could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke of his team of employees. Like me, he had no close family but a handful of good friends. Our conversation was easy and I was pleasantly surprised by his dry sense of humor. I will admit that I also loved that he kept reaching for my hand across the table and especially the way his thumb circled my pulse at the base of my wrist. It was such an innocent gesture that was playing havoc with my libido. In addition to being outrageously handsome, Jackson Spencer was intelligent, charming and quite likeable. Time passed by so quickly that I was shocked when I glanced at my watch and realized it was after ten.