Page 4 of Jackson
What was he, some kind of fanboy?
It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be back here.
She found her clothes folded on a chair near the bed.
Folded?
Okay, that did it.
Neat freaks made her twitchy at the best of times. Jackson clearly lived with military precision. She, on the other hand, lived in organized chaos and didn’t intend to start alphabetizing her spice rack any time soon. And beyond that, he was a colleague—a way-younger, handsome fellow officer, and way too controlled for her liking. He embodied all the things she’d learned to stay far, far away from.
She needed to leave before her brain convinced her this wasn’t a complete disaster. Before she started thinking with her heart or, worse, with her hormones.
Paula moved Jackson’s arm so she could extract herself from the bed. She held her breath when he mumbled, but he didn’t wake. She tiptoed to the chair and picked up her clothes. She couldn’t help stealing a glance back. The bedside clock showed 6:30 am. She really had to get out of here. How could she have let herself stay the night?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She didn’t regret the sex.God, no. That had been intoxicating, addictive.
She was berating herself because she’d let her guard slip. Because she hadn’t just taken what she wanted and walked away like she always did. Because Jackson was a colleague—ayoungercolleague.
Jackson was too composed, too clean-cut, and too dominant in all the ways that made her dangerously tempted to let go.
She couldn’t afford that.
She closed the bedroom door as quietly as she could and let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She pulled her underwear over her sticky thighs then put on her bra.
After checking her stockings, she decided they were a lost cause.
Holding her shoes in one hand and the stockings bunched up in the other, she made her way through the hallway.
I need a shower and breakfast, but most of all I need to get out of here.
Paula preferred to leave directly after sex and wasn’t happy with the walk of shame she had to do this morning. It was different from leaving in the middle of the night, likely because it was daylight.
To her immense relief, her clutch was lying on the floor near the front door. She stuffed her stockings inside. She had no clue where Jackson lived, but she knew Kansas City well.
She opened the door and stepped out into the street. A quick assessment and she realized she didn’t have to call for a ride. Although Jackson lived in a better neighborhood than hers, it was still within easy walking distance of her house.
Paula started down the street.
What had she been thinking?
She would never have gone home with a colleague if it hadn’t been for the wedding’s romance and excitement.
Why did I break my rule with Jackson Cagney?
It had been an amazing one-night stand, but would that be enough for her? If only he’d been an egotist and bad in the sack like her ex then she’d be over him now.
These thoughts were leading her nowhere. One night was all she could give him. She could deal with that, and Jackson would have to.
Jackson had been so dominant and possessive in the way he’d handled her. She’d never had a man take control like that; she’d also never had such great sex before. What would it be like to have someone in bed like that all the time?
Her mind kept spinning all the way home, but reality returned as soon as she opened the front door. Her entryway and living room were piled high with boxes, loose papers, and books. She stepped around the obstacles, certain she’d never let Jackson or anyone else see her place.
Where Jackson’s home had been pristine, hers was a cluttered mess. She tried to clean and organize it, but whatever got done fell apart within a month. She never seemed to have the time or energy. It had been like this since her move back to Kansas City after her divorce.
She considered taking a shower but decided she needed a run first. After putting on her favorite shorts and an old Police Academy t-shirt, she pulled on her running shoes. A good long run would help clear her head.
