neck, the neck that I’d kissed and licked. My cheeks heated as vivid memories of the night before started playing in my mind, and I shot my gaze back down to my iPad.
I couldn’t believe that it had happened between us. I’d never imagined that I’d be so unprofessional and bold. Still, as bad as it was that we’d crossed that line the night before, I honestly couldn’t say that I regretted it, which was the most surprising thing of all.
I’d never expected that sex could be that…intimate. I realized, even as I had the thought, that it sounded ridiculous. But being with Jackson was the closest I’d ever felt to someone, and not just physically—although the physical part had been amazing. It was as if our souls were as connected as our bodies had been, and that was saying something.
It was so different than my first time with Gio. It felt like Jackson hadn’t just read my body, he’d read my mind. He did everything right, it was perfect. The way he looked at me, the things he said to me, the way he touched me. Maybe it was because I was older, or maybe it was just because Jackson was that good.
“You’re really good,” Jackson commented out of the blue.
Or maybe it wasn’t out of the blue. Had I said he was good out loud? I must have.
My cheeks heated as I looked up at him, hoping that I’d misheard him. “What?”
“I’ve never seen anyone as natural as you are.”
I could tell from his tone that he’d meant that as a compliment but for some reason it felt like an impersonal thing to say about something so…personal. “Um…thanks.”
“I really mean it. You’re real. Authentic. The way you connect with people, you really care, and it shows. I’ve never worked with anyone who puts people so at ease during interviews.”
“Oh, interviews.” I was relieved that was what he was talking about. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, interviews.” His eyes sliced to me before looking back at the road. “What did you think I was talking about?”
“Nothing.” I looked back down at my iPad and stared at the words on the screen, but I wasn’t reading any of them. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I prayed that he would just drop it.
“Did you think I was talking about last night?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Um…” Before I had to figure out how to answer that my phone rang. When I looked at the screen, I saw my grandmother’s face and wanted to kiss it for saving me. I hit answer. “Hello.”
“Darling, you look flushed. Did you forget to put on your sunscreen? You know what I’ve told you about the sun with your fair complexion. You know we porcelain skinned princesses must take extra precautions to avoid wrinkles.” She whispered the word as if speaking it out loud would cause them to appear like Candyman.
“I was out in the sun yesterday.” I omitted that I had lathered myself with SPF 50 hoping that Jackson would accept my explanation that my face was bright red due to overexposure and not because I thought he’d been telling me I was a natural at sex.
“Are you with your gentleman friend?”
“He’s not—”
“Hello, Miss Clarke,” Jackson spoke over me.
His deep voice had my cheeks flushing even more.
“Oh good! I have a question for him.” My grandmother leaned toward the camera and tilted her head, like she’d be able to see him somehow. “Where are you, Jackson dear?”
“He’s driving,” I explained.
“Well, I’m not,” she shot back. “Let me see him.”
Reluctantly, I turned the phone toward Jackson.
“Oh yes, that’s a much better view,” my grandmother commented.
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.
“Oh darling, you’re beautiful, but looking at you is like looking in a mirror.”
Fair enough.
“So, Jackson, tell me, what turns you on?”
“Grandmother?!” I shrieked and flipped the phone back toward me.
She shooed me away with her hand. “It’s for research, darling. You are the one that sent the question to me.”
She wasn’t wrong. I had sent her questions for her next show on the drive back to Savannah yesterday, and one of them had been from a woman wondering what turned men on, but never in a million years had I expected her to pose the question to Jackson.
“Now stop being so repressed, darling, and let the handsome young man answer.”
It was always a fun day when your grandmother calls you repressed in front of a man you’d just spent the night with, after asking him what turned him