When Stars Collide (Second Chance Romance #2) - Sara Furlong-Burr Page 0,41
glass of water.”
“You know what? How about I get it for you.”
He smiled, nodding his head.
I took a few short steps into the kitchen and began searching for the drinking glasses. “Now, if I were a glass,” I began, opening the silverware drawer, “where would I be?” I followed that up by cracking open the stove, much to Jackson’s amusement.
“On the shelf,” he giggled.
“Oh, that’s right.” I threw my hands up into the air. “This shelf?” I asked, opening the pantry door.
“No,” he laughed, pointing to the shelf next to the sink, “that one.”
Following his instruction, I opened the door, revealing Peter’s drinking glass inventory. “Would you look at that? This is certainly an odd place to keep glasses.” With a shake of my head, I plucked two plastic cups from the bottom shelf and filled them each with water from the refrigerator’s water supply.
“You’re funny,” Jackson observed, taking the cup from me.
“You’re all right yourself.”
“I know.” He plopped down on the couch in the living room with his glass of water.
Nope, certainly not Peter’s kid at all.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
He shook his head, patting the seat next to him. “Did you find your wedding dress?”
The water in my throat began to make its way back up, but then abruptly became fixated in my esophagus, creating a choking sound that blossomed into quite the coughing fit. Jackson stared at me, horrified.
“Are you dying?”
I cleared my throat, nodding my head. “Just about. Did you think I was looking for a wedding dress for myself?”
“Sure, you’re going to be in a wedding, aren’t you?”
“Ah, I see your logic. Yes, you’re absolutely right, I am going to be in a wedding. Elle and Luke’s wedding.”
“Yeah, duh, that’s what I meant.”
“Just wanted to make sure.”
“You looked really scared.”
“That’s because I was.”
“I get scared sometimes, too, but I deal with it.”
“Oh?” I asked, setting my glass on a coaster on Peter’s coffee table. “What do you do to help you not feel so scared?”
“I find some place to hide where I can be by myself. My nana has a tree house in her backyard. I go there. It’s up high and no one ever thinks to look there.”
“And what makes you scared?”
“I don’t know—clowns, heights.”
“You’re afraid of heights, so you climb a tree?”
He shrugged. “I’m a complicated kid.”
“That you are.”
Jackson downed the rest of his water and handed the glass to me. “I’m done. Goodnight, Mena.” He hopped off the couch and began making his way down the hall.
“Goodnight, Jack. Is it okay if I call you Jack?”
“No.”
“Fair enough.”
*****
I awoke early the next morning beside a still sleeping Peter. My fingertips lightly caressed his bare back, tracing the outline of the cross tattoo he’d had done after his grandfather passed away a couple of years ago. At first, the maneuverings of my finger across his skin drew nothing more from him than a slight hitch in his breathing. But moments later, he began to stir.
“Mmm,” he moaned, rolling over to face me.
“Did you miss me?”
“I would have if you hadn’t woken me up before seven on a Sunday.”
“I could always let you go back to sleep,” I said, biting my lower lip while my hand made its way up his thigh.
“No, I’m up now.”
“I’ll say you are.”
He exhaled sharply, leaning his forehead against mine, just as my hand found its way between his legs.
“Mena, what are you doing to me?”
“You don’t know?”
“I meant that metaphorically, not literally.”
“I know.”
His lips found mine, hungry and eager. I shifted my body, rolling on top of him. Peter’s hands worked to remove my camisole, and the touch of his fingertips against my bare breasts instantaneously formed goosebumps down my arms. Still straddling him, I slid his basketball shorts down below his knees as he worked his legs up and down to slide them off the rest of the way. His muscular arms wound their way around me, pushing me down against his body. My cheek brushed the stubble on his chin as I began lightly kissing his neck.
Peter moaned, his hands gliding softly down the length of my body, stopping when they reached the waistband of my panties, where he lost all sense of decorum. His fingers gripped the lacy material and he hurriedly yanked my bikini briefs down to my mid-thigh.
I feigned a yawn. “Gee, I’m feeling awfully tired. You’re right, it’s early. Maybe we should go back to sleep.”