The Unidentified Redhead
Page 35
“I love you, Grace,” he whispered, suddenly pulling me into a bone-crushing hug.
“I love you, Jack,” I answered, wrapping my legs around him to get as close as possible.
Our bodies said what we could not bear to say, responding without apology to their true partners. He kissed me, I kissed him back, and without another word, he slipped inside of me. We moved together quietly, peacefully, elegantly.
There was a tenderness in this night, a silent, sweet goodbye. As our bodies rose and fell in unison, our eyes both filled with tears.
We sighed deeply as we came together, the union complete. He collapsed onto me, and I hugged him tightly, keeping him inside as long as I could. There was nothing that could keep me from loving him. We lay awake all night, neither one of us wanting to close our eyes.
We spent the night talking quietly, laughing and swearing, giggling and promising. When it finally became light enough that I could no longer pretend it was night, we began to make our way out of the bed and into some clothes.
After I changed, I walked through my house, my home, thinking of how much I was already looking forward to making it lived in. Jack packed up my things from last night, and met me by the back door in the kitchen. The mood had shifted this morning, the energy was different. He was quietly resigned.
I was quietly … excited?
I was excited.
As I walked through the kitchen, I slapped a post-it note on my new Sub Zero fridge, where not even a jar of mustard lived yet.
“What’s that for?” he asked, smiling tiredly. I laughed, grabbing his sweet face with my hands and scrunching it up.
“I left myself a note for when I come back.”
“And what did you tell yourself?” he asked, holding the door for me as we walked out toward my car parked in the driveway.
I threw my bag in the car and grabbed the keys from him. I wouldn’t get to drive in New York, and I wanted to soak up as much as I could. I smirked at him as he frowned at getting in the passenger seat. I dropped the top, fired up the tunes, and said, “It says, ‘Welcome home, Grace.’”
Chapter 25
Breakfast was quick. Jack made Holly and I oatmeal while I made coffee and she sliced up bananas for our bowls. We talked hurriedly about last-minute plans. I would be leaving my car at Holly’s. We figured it would be better to have it somewhere that someone actually lived. The two of them would check on my house about every other week or so. There were still a few pieces being delivered, but between Jack and Holly, they had it covered.
I actually offered Jack the use of my car while I was gone, and he laughed, telling me he “quite enjoyed” his broken little car and, “now that the Car Snob will be away, I’ll be pleased to drive it again.” Jack and I beat a hasty trip upstairs after breakfast, determined to sneak in as much time alone as we could before we needed to leave for LAX. My flight was at one, and we figured on leaving for the airport around ten.
It was already eight-thirty.
We headed straight for the shower, dropping our clothes as we walked through the room, efficient and expedient in our undressing. I laughed at the seriousness with which we approached this, our final shower.
“It’s like Dead Man Showering,” I quipped, as he plodded across the room in only his boxers, clothes strewn messily about. I was no better. I was wriggling out of my bra so fast it was like someone was holding a gun to my head.
“It does have a certain finality to it, doesn’t it?” He chuckled wryly, watching me as I struggled to get the last clasp. “Can I please help you with that?” He sighed, the sound turning into a full on belly laugh as I contorted myself this way and that, trying desperately to get out of it.
“Smartass,” I said, poking his ribs as he approached me. He stood behind me as I held my hair up, and when it was finally off, his hands slipped lower to my waist, hooking his fingers through the band of my panties and beginning to slide them over my hips.
“I don’t recall asking you to help with those, Sweet Nuts,” I scolded, my breath beginning to catch in my throat.
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on this matter, Nuts Girl,” he growled in my ear as the panties went down. He threw them over my shoulder, and I watched them soar through the air.
“Shower?” I asked.
“Yeah. Let’s get wet,” he teased, pushing me toward the bathroom.
“Too late,” I stated, feeling the entire lower half of my body beginning to warm as his hands began to explore.
“Is that a fact?” he asked, spinning me around and walking me backward into the bathroom.
“Oh, like you’re not totally turned on. I can see that you are, George,” I murmured, letting my eyes peek at Mr. Hamilton Jr. poking at his boxers. My hands came up to his shoulders, and I ran them down the length of his arms, while his snaked around my waist, pulling me to him.
“And why the hell do you still have these on?” I asked, snapping the band on his boxers.
“You tell me, Crazy,” he said, reaching past me to turn on the shower.
“I’m on it,” I answered, removing the offending boxers in the time it would take you to say Hamiltonian Wake-Up Call.
We scrambled in, the water covering us as we lathered quickly. He washed my hair, letting the water run down my body, covering me in bubbles. He, of course, held my boobies while I washed his hair … for balance. He truly never tired of playing with them. I honestly think if he had his own pair, I might never hear from him again. Luckily, I never tired of him playing with them, either. He had me moaning within seconds, and then groaning a minute later.
He was taking my washing up very seriously this morning, and there was not a place on my body he didn’t attend to. He brought me to three quick intense orgasms, and before I knew it, we were out of the shower and on the floor of the bathroom, with me on top, riding him in a frenzy. We were getting water all over the floor as we tried to stay on the bathmat.
In the end, neither of us cared that we strayed off the bathmat.
We f**ked frantically, laughing when he knocked over the tower of toiletries with his foot while baby powder and tampons rained down on us. We laughed when the squeak of his ass against the marble became almost louder than my groaning. And we really laughed when we came together, tension and giggles giving way to satisfaction.
I rolled off him, landing squarely on my flat iron. I yelped, and when he tried to roll after me, he hit his head squarely on the toilet.
I looked around at the state of the bathroom—the open shower door, the Always with Wings and mascara strewn about the floor, the flat iron under my bum and Jack Hamilton rubbing his head where he had bonked it on the bowl.
I laughed and laughed until tears streamed down my face, my na**d body jiggling in places that I knew couldn’t look good. And I didn’t care.
“I … love you … so … much … ” I choked out, wiping my face off with a piece of toilet paper from behind me.
“I love you too, Gracie … Always,” he deadpanned, holding up a maxi pad.
I started into a fresh round of laughter, holding my stomach it hurt so much. He crawled over to me, knocking bottles left and right with his knees and kissed me square on the lips.
“You’re crazy, but you’re my Crazy. I love it.” He stood, helped me up, and then walked out into the bedroom, flexing his buns for me.
“We need to get a move on—it’s getting late,” he said over his shoulder.
I glanced at the clock on the counter and saw that it was already nine-fifteen.
Shit.
He stuck his head back in the bathroom and winked. “You’re the greatest, Grace, the greatest.”
I smirked at him and then began to get dressed.
9:57 a.m.
I stood with Holly in the driveway while Jack put my suitcases in my car.
He was driving me to the airport and then he’d bring my car back to her house.
I fought down the lump in my throat. I could tell she had one, as well.
“So, you have everything, right?” she checked. “Neil is going to call you tonight to check in. You have a meeting with him on Thursday after you get settled into the hotel, right?”
“Yes ma’am. I’m meeting him Thursday.”
“And you have your cell charger, right? You call my ass the minute you land. Do you have money for a cab into the city? It will be about forty-five dollars … don’t let them charge you more than that.”
“I got it, Mom. I’ve been there before, you know. Probably more often than you.” I laughed at her mother-henning.
“I know, I know, asshead. I guess that’s it,” she said, pressing her lips tightly together.
“OK, dillweed. I’ll call you when I land. Bye,” I said, hugging her quickly.
She didn’t say anything, just nodded her head and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me back just as hard.
She pulled away from me and disappeared into the house. Holly always hated goodbyes. I turned to Jack, a little teary, and he reached for my hand.
“You ready to go?” he asked quietly.
“Yep, let’s do this,” I answered, wiping away the few tears that had escaped and climbing into my car. This time I let him drive.
It was one of the few mornings ever in the history of L.A. with little traffic, and all too soon, we were pulling into LAX. He insisted on parking and walking me in, even though I wanted him to just let me out at the curbside check-in. My stomach had been in knots ever since the floor of the bathroom, and I knew now how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to him. We parked underground, and I swear you have never seen anyone take so long to remove luggage from the trunk as him. We held hands, walking at a turtle’s pace toward the ticket counter, and he waited patiently as I punched in my frequent flyer number, bringing up my itinerary. I was pleased to see I’d gotten an upgrade and would be in seat 3D, a window seat.
“Sheridan?” the counter agent called, and we moved forward to check my bags. Jack placed them on the scale and we stood, waiting for her to wrap the tags around the handle.
“OK, you’re checking two bags through to La Guardia, right?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, surprised at my own voice. It was rough, and my throat felt like sandpaper. One look at Jack and I could see he was starting to feel it, too. His eyes were overcast, the green almost blue.
She gave me my ticket and pointed me toward the security checkpoint that would take me to my terminal. Jack slung my carry-on bag over his shoulder, and we walked away slowly, holding hands again. Right before we got to where we’d have to be separated, he pulled me over to the wall, almost hidden behind a vending machine. He set my bag down, and I kept my eyes on the floor. I literally couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Grace? Come on, look at me,” he chided softly, his fingers slipping under my chin and lifting my face up.
The tears that had been building all day finally broke, and I clutched him to me fiercely.
“Dammit, George, I’m going to miss you so much!” I cried, pulling him to me as tightly as I dared.
“I know, Gracie, me too,” he choked back, not crying, but sounding like he could.
I breathed in his sweet scent, S’mores and Hamilton, and I began to kiss every part of his warm skin that was exposed. His neck, his ears, his temples, his forehead, the little part of his chest that was exposed by his open collar, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and finally his mouth, which was eager for my own.
His hands swept across my back and my hips, his beautiful fingers spanning my waist almost completely.
I held on as tightly as I could, trying to express with sheer force how much I was going to miss him and how much my heart was now breaking to leave him.
“Grace? I just want you to know, well, how glad I am that I met you. I can’t imagine my life without your crazy, sexy, beautiful ass in it now,” he whispered in my ear, bringing a fresh wave of tears and smiles at the same time from me.
“God, you’re amazing. I’m so lucky,” I whispered back, clutching at him still tighter. He was now kissing my neck with a sense of urgency, burying his face in my hair and breathing deeply.
His lips found mine again, and we kissed until we were both breathless, his cheeks wet now from my tears, and then he hugged me tightly again.
“I should go,” I whispered into his neck, my hands buried in his hair.
“Yes, you should,” he whispered back, beginning to let go.
I backed away, swinging my bag up over my shoulder and taking my boarding pass from his hip pocket.
“Call me when you land?” he asked, his eyes sad, but hopeful.
“Promise,” I answered, scratching his head one last time. He closed his eyes like a puppy, leaning into it. I was close enough, still, that I could feel the warmth of him through my shirt.
“I love you, sweet girl.” He smiled, opening his eyes and leaning down for one more kiss.
“I love you too, Jack.” I smiled back as his lips left mine.
I walked away, getting in line. I gave the TSA officer my ID and boarding pass and then fell in behind everyone else. I couldn’t look behind me.
“Hey, Crazy!” I heard, and I turned around smiling, along with the other thirty people in line.
“Yes, Sweet Nuts?” I yelled back, to the general amusement of all around me.
“Knock their f**king socks off!” he yelled.
I laughed and then lifted my hand in a goodbye. With one more sexy half grin, he walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I was still smiling when I turned back to the line. The woman in front of me smiled.
“Boyfriend?” she asked.
“Boyfriend … hmm … yes. That was my boyfriend,” I answered, rolling the word around on my tongue.
“I love you, Jack,” I answered, wrapping my legs around him to get as close as possible.
Our bodies said what we could not bear to say, responding without apology to their true partners. He kissed me, I kissed him back, and without another word, he slipped inside of me. We moved together quietly, peacefully, elegantly.
There was a tenderness in this night, a silent, sweet goodbye. As our bodies rose and fell in unison, our eyes both filled with tears.
We sighed deeply as we came together, the union complete. He collapsed onto me, and I hugged him tightly, keeping him inside as long as I could. There was nothing that could keep me from loving him. We lay awake all night, neither one of us wanting to close our eyes.
We spent the night talking quietly, laughing and swearing, giggling and promising. When it finally became light enough that I could no longer pretend it was night, we began to make our way out of the bed and into some clothes.
After I changed, I walked through my house, my home, thinking of how much I was already looking forward to making it lived in. Jack packed up my things from last night, and met me by the back door in the kitchen. The mood had shifted this morning, the energy was different. He was quietly resigned.
I was quietly … excited?
I was excited.
As I walked through the kitchen, I slapped a post-it note on my new Sub Zero fridge, where not even a jar of mustard lived yet.
“What’s that for?” he asked, smiling tiredly. I laughed, grabbing his sweet face with my hands and scrunching it up.
“I left myself a note for when I come back.”
“And what did you tell yourself?” he asked, holding the door for me as we walked out toward my car parked in the driveway.
I threw my bag in the car and grabbed the keys from him. I wouldn’t get to drive in New York, and I wanted to soak up as much as I could. I smirked at him as he frowned at getting in the passenger seat. I dropped the top, fired up the tunes, and said, “It says, ‘Welcome home, Grace.’”
Chapter 25
Breakfast was quick. Jack made Holly and I oatmeal while I made coffee and she sliced up bananas for our bowls. We talked hurriedly about last-minute plans. I would be leaving my car at Holly’s. We figured it would be better to have it somewhere that someone actually lived. The two of them would check on my house about every other week or so. There were still a few pieces being delivered, but between Jack and Holly, they had it covered.
I actually offered Jack the use of my car while I was gone, and he laughed, telling me he “quite enjoyed” his broken little car and, “now that the Car Snob will be away, I’ll be pleased to drive it again.” Jack and I beat a hasty trip upstairs after breakfast, determined to sneak in as much time alone as we could before we needed to leave for LAX. My flight was at one, and we figured on leaving for the airport around ten.
It was already eight-thirty.
We headed straight for the shower, dropping our clothes as we walked through the room, efficient and expedient in our undressing. I laughed at the seriousness with which we approached this, our final shower.
“It’s like Dead Man Showering,” I quipped, as he plodded across the room in only his boxers, clothes strewn messily about. I was no better. I was wriggling out of my bra so fast it was like someone was holding a gun to my head.
“It does have a certain finality to it, doesn’t it?” He chuckled wryly, watching me as I struggled to get the last clasp. “Can I please help you with that?” He sighed, the sound turning into a full on belly laugh as I contorted myself this way and that, trying desperately to get out of it.
“Smartass,” I said, poking his ribs as he approached me. He stood behind me as I held my hair up, and when it was finally off, his hands slipped lower to my waist, hooking his fingers through the band of my panties and beginning to slide them over my hips.
“I don’t recall asking you to help with those, Sweet Nuts,” I scolded, my breath beginning to catch in my throat.
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on this matter, Nuts Girl,” he growled in my ear as the panties went down. He threw them over my shoulder, and I watched them soar through the air.
“Shower?” I asked.
“Yeah. Let’s get wet,” he teased, pushing me toward the bathroom.
“Too late,” I stated, feeling the entire lower half of my body beginning to warm as his hands began to explore.
“Is that a fact?” he asked, spinning me around and walking me backward into the bathroom.
“Oh, like you’re not totally turned on. I can see that you are, George,” I murmured, letting my eyes peek at Mr. Hamilton Jr. poking at his boxers. My hands came up to his shoulders, and I ran them down the length of his arms, while his snaked around my waist, pulling me to him.
“And why the hell do you still have these on?” I asked, snapping the band on his boxers.
“You tell me, Crazy,” he said, reaching past me to turn on the shower.
“I’m on it,” I answered, removing the offending boxers in the time it would take you to say Hamiltonian Wake-Up Call.
We scrambled in, the water covering us as we lathered quickly. He washed my hair, letting the water run down my body, covering me in bubbles. He, of course, held my boobies while I washed his hair … for balance. He truly never tired of playing with them. I honestly think if he had his own pair, I might never hear from him again. Luckily, I never tired of him playing with them, either. He had me moaning within seconds, and then groaning a minute later.
He was taking my washing up very seriously this morning, and there was not a place on my body he didn’t attend to. He brought me to three quick intense orgasms, and before I knew it, we were out of the shower and on the floor of the bathroom, with me on top, riding him in a frenzy. We were getting water all over the floor as we tried to stay on the bathmat.
In the end, neither of us cared that we strayed off the bathmat.
We f**ked frantically, laughing when he knocked over the tower of toiletries with his foot while baby powder and tampons rained down on us. We laughed when the squeak of his ass against the marble became almost louder than my groaning. And we really laughed when we came together, tension and giggles giving way to satisfaction.
I rolled off him, landing squarely on my flat iron. I yelped, and when he tried to roll after me, he hit his head squarely on the toilet.
I looked around at the state of the bathroom—the open shower door, the Always with Wings and mascara strewn about the floor, the flat iron under my bum and Jack Hamilton rubbing his head where he had bonked it on the bowl.
I laughed and laughed until tears streamed down my face, my na**d body jiggling in places that I knew couldn’t look good. And I didn’t care.
“I … love you … so … much … ” I choked out, wiping my face off with a piece of toilet paper from behind me.
“I love you too, Gracie … Always,” he deadpanned, holding up a maxi pad.
I started into a fresh round of laughter, holding my stomach it hurt so much. He crawled over to me, knocking bottles left and right with his knees and kissed me square on the lips.
“You’re crazy, but you’re my Crazy. I love it.” He stood, helped me up, and then walked out into the bedroom, flexing his buns for me.
“We need to get a move on—it’s getting late,” he said over his shoulder.
I glanced at the clock on the counter and saw that it was already nine-fifteen.
Shit.
He stuck his head back in the bathroom and winked. “You’re the greatest, Grace, the greatest.”
I smirked at him and then began to get dressed.
9:57 a.m.
I stood with Holly in the driveway while Jack put my suitcases in my car.
He was driving me to the airport and then he’d bring my car back to her house.
I fought down the lump in my throat. I could tell she had one, as well.
“So, you have everything, right?” she checked. “Neil is going to call you tonight to check in. You have a meeting with him on Thursday after you get settled into the hotel, right?”
“Yes ma’am. I’m meeting him Thursday.”
“And you have your cell charger, right? You call my ass the minute you land. Do you have money for a cab into the city? It will be about forty-five dollars … don’t let them charge you more than that.”
“I got it, Mom. I’ve been there before, you know. Probably more often than you.” I laughed at her mother-henning.
“I know, I know, asshead. I guess that’s it,” she said, pressing her lips tightly together.
“OK, dillweed. I’ll call you when I land. Bye,” I said, hugging her quickly.
She didn’t say anything, just nodded her head and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me back just as hard.
She pulled away from me and disappeared into the house. Holly always hated goodbyes. I turned to Jack, a little teary, and he reached for my hand.
“You ready to go?” he asked quietly.
“Yep, let’s do this,” I answered, wiping away the few tears that had escaped and climbing into my car. This time I let him drive.
It was one of the few mornings ever in the history of L.A. with little traffic, and all too soon, we were pulling into LAX. He insisted on parking and walking me in, even though I wanted him to just let me out at the curbside check-in. My stomach had been in knots ever since the floor of the bathroom, and I knew now how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to him. We parked underground, and I swear you have never seen anyone take so long to remove luggage from the trunk as him. We held hands, walking at a turtle’s pace toward the ticket counter, and he waited patiently as I punched in my frequent flyer number, bringing up my itinerary. I was pleased to see I’d gotten an upgrade and would be in seat 3D, a window seat.
“Sheridan?” the counter agent called, and we moved forward to check my bags. Jack placed them on the scale and we stood, waiting for her to wrap the tags around the handle.
“OK, you’re checking two bags through to La Guardia, right?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, surprised at my own voice. It was rough, and my throat felt like sandpaper. One look at Jack and I could see he was starting to feel it, too. His eyes were overcast, the green almost blue.
She gave me my ticket and pointed me toward the security checkpoint that would take me to my terminal. Jack slung my carry-on bag over his shoulder, and we walked away slowly, holding hands again. Right before we got to where we’d have to be separated, he pulled me over to the wall, almost hidden behind a vending machine. He set my bag down, and I kept my eyes on the floor. I literally couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Grace? Come on, look at me,” he chided softly, his fingers slipping under my chin and lifting my face up.
The tears that had been building all day finally broke, and I clutched him to me fiercely.
“Dammit, George, I’m going to miss you so much!” I cried, pulling him to me as tightly as I dared.
“I know, Gracie, me too,” he choked back, not crying, but sounding like he could.
I breathed in his sweet scent, S’mores and Hamilton, and I began to kiss every part of his warm skin that was exposed. His neck, his ears, his temples, his forehead, the little part of his chest that was exposed by his open collar, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and finally his mouth, which was eager for my own.
His hands swept across my back and my hips, his beautiful fingers spanning my waist almost completely.
I held on as tightly as I could, trying to express with sheer force how much I was going to miss him and how much my heart was now breaking to leave him.
“Grace? I just want you to know, well, how glad I am that I met you. I can’t imagine my life without your crazy, sexy, beautiful ass in it now,” he whispered in my ear, bringing a fresh wave of tears and smiles at the same time from me.
“God, you’re amazing. I’m so lucky,” I whispered back, clutching at him still tighter. He was now kissing my neck with a sense of urgency, burying his face in my hair and breathing deeply.
His lips found mine again, and we kissed until we were both breathless, his cheeks wet now from my tears, and then he hugged me tightly again.
“I should go,” I whispered into his neck, my hands buried in his hair.
“Yes, you should,” he whispered back, beginning to let go.
I backed away, swinging my bag up over my shoulder and taking my boarding pass from his hip pocket.
“Call me when you land?” he asked, his eyes sad, but hopeful.
“Promise,” I answered, scratching his head one last time. He closed his eyes like a puppy, leaning into it. I was close enough, still, that I could feel the warmth of him through my shirt.
“I love you, sweet girl.” He smiled, opening his eyes and leaning down for one more kiss.
“I love you too, Jack.” I smiled back as his lips left mine.
I walked away, getting in line. I gave the TSA officer my ID and boarding pass and then fell in behind everyone else. I couldn’t look behind me.
“Hey, Crazy!” I heard, and I turned around smiling, along with the other thirty people in line.
“Yes, Sweet Nuts?” I yelled back, to the general amusement of all around me.
“Knock their f**king socks off!” he yelled.
I laughed and then lifted my hand in a goodbye. With one more sexy half grin, he walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I was still smiling when I turned back to the line. The woman in front of me smiled.
“Boyfriend?” she asked.
“Boyfriend … hmm … yes. That was my boyfriend,” I answered, rolling the word around on my tongue.
