Sofie and the Movie Star: A Lovestruck Short Story (Lovestruck #3.5)(8)
“Do you… do you have feelings for my cousin?”
His eyes snapped back to mine. “God, no! Lizzie and Thomas are perfect for each other, I would never… Besides, she had no idea who I was when she met Thomas.” He winked. “I said I wanted something real, but that doesn’t mean my ego is going to be attracted to someone who isn’t at least a little bit impressed with me.”
I laughed at his honesty before I could stop myself. “But you said you were jealous.”
“Of the kind of relationship that they have. Not that he gets Lizzie.”
“So you thought… you could to hook up with her cousin? See if it’s a family thing?”
He sighed and I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. “You know, I thought the whole fierce and sassy thing was cute before. But now I’m second-guessing that assessment.”
I smacked his arm without thinking, exactly what I would have done to any other guy who made a joke like that—but then realized that he wasn’t any other guy. He was a rich and famous movie star that most women would give anything to dance with. And I had just smacked him.
Before I could apologize he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against mine. In shock I stood absolutely still. Was Jackson Coles kissing me?
I don’t know how I thought he would react to me hitting him, but it certainly wasn’t like this.
He pulled back, his blue eyes searching mine. “Sorry,” he murmured, though he sounded anything but. “I should have asked first. I just… you smacked me.”
“Did you always kiss people who smack you?” I squeaked. “That sounds like kind of a weird reaction.”
He chuckled. “No one ever smacks me. No one ever does anything but compliment me and kiss my arse.”
My heart was racing and I was flooded with a mixture of disbelief and regret. I had just been kissed by the hottest guy I had ever seen and I’d been too shocked to even enjoy it. Without much thought, I took a step closer. “So what you’re saying,” I whispered, hardly believing my own daring, “is that you’re attracted to girls who are mean to you.”
He grinned, his eyes on my lips. “I don’t know if I would put it quite that way.”
“But if I smack you again you might kiss me again?”
His eyes—now a shade darker blue than I had ever seen them—never left my lips. “I don’t know, Sofie. Why don’t you give it a try?”
Chapter Three
“Where are we going?” Jackson whispered, his hand tight around mine in the darkness. “Sofie, I can’t see a thing!”
“Hang on,” I muttered, my hands flying over the wall for a light switch. I had led Jackson into the darkened back hall by the kitchen in search of the store room where we had stashed the wedding gifts. Though I helped stack up the gifts only a few hours ago, I was far too overwhelmed by all things Jackson to remember the layout back here. Finally my hand closed over a door knob. “This is it.”
Before I could swing the door open, his lips were on my neck, making me shudder violently. I should have just stayed on the dance floor, I thought. Family audience or not, at least then we would be kissing right now.
But then the door swung open and we tumbled into the dark room. I couldn’t see a thing but Jackson’s hands were already on my face, running through my hair, pulling my head up in line with his so his lips could find mine.
On second thought, much better to have found privacy, I thought vaguely before my mind became preoccupied with other matters.
God, he was a good kisser. I tried not to think about how many women he had kissed before—he was clearly experienced. His mouth alternated between soft and gentle to demanding in the blink of an eye. And his hands—holy hell. They were amazing. His fingertips ghosted across my face before coming around to clasp the back of my neck, growing more urgent as he pulled me closer. Then, before I could stop enjoying the feel of them there, they slipped down to my lower back, pulling my entire body flushed with his.
For a moment I was nervous—would my bump totally turn him off? But it was strange. There in Jackson’s arms, I no longer felt so lumbering or klutzy. Maybe it was because he was so much taller, his shoulders so broad. Or maybe it was in the almost reverential way that he touched me. Or maybe it was just because it was so dark in the room and I didn’t have a visual for just how big my ass was. Whatever the reason, he made me feel delicate and important. Like I was desirable. For the first time in months I stopped worrying about the baby—about the pregnancy and the prospect of having an infant to look after. I stopped worrying about how it might affect my life, how it would change things. For the first time in months I let it all go. I enjoyed myself.
“Sofie,” he muttered, running those soft fingertips down my forearms, making my entire upper body erupt in goosebumps. “Your skin is so soft.”
“Jackson.”
Then he was pulling me tight again and I’m afraid I got a little out of control. It had just been so long since I’d been with a guy, even making out, and damn it, he was so freaking hot. So I couldn’t really blame myself for wrapping my arms around him, pulling him as tight as I could. And if, in my enthusiasm, I accidentally pushed him so hard that he lost his balance, that’s not really my fault, right?