“He doesn’t have to take care of me. I just want to talk to him. Make sure he’s okay.” Another tear slides down my face. “He’s all I have left.”
Jackson pulls me into his arms. “You haveme. For as long as you want me. I told you I’d be there for you and I will. I don’t go back on my word. It’s why I’m still helping Kristen. As much as I’d like to tell her to leave me alone, I can’t bail on her now. Not after I told her I’d help her.” He leans back and holds my face in his hands, his eyes on mine. “If you want to find your dad, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you find him.”
I half smile. “I think I might love you.” I say it in a joking tone, but my heart doesn’t feel that way. I feel closer to Jackson than I do anyone else. I feel more for him than I ever did for Axl.
If I didn’t have these doubts that keep popping up in my head about whether I can trust Jackson or if any of the stories I hear about him are true, I think I really would love him.
“I think I might love you too,” he says, without the joking tone but with a smile. Is he just kidding around, or saying it because I did? “I think we’ve talked enough.”
“Yeah, we should probably head back.”
“I was thinking of something else.”
Still holding my face, he leans in and presses his lips to mine. It’s just a kiss, but when he pulls back, I suck in a breath, surprised at how much my body reacts from just his kiss. I should be used to it now, but I’m not.
“You okay?” he asks, noticing my reaction.
“Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting that.”
“You still want to go home?”
I answer by kissing him while slowly climbing over to his seat. He grabs my hips, helping me the rest of the way until I’m on his lap. He reclines the seat, then yanks off his shirt.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he says, his hand slipping under the waistband of my shorts. “I didn’t plan this. I swear.”
“I did,” I whisper in his ear. “I was hoping this would happen.”
He cups my ass, and I grind into him, softly moaning as I feel the hard length of him against me. I reach between us and undo my shorts. He yanks them down, then quickly undoes his jeans. His cock springs out, rubbing along my panties. He shoves them aside, but stops before sliding inside me.
“Shit,” he says, tipping his head back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t bring anything.”
I sigh and lay my head on his chest. “So I guess we’re done.”
“Hold on.” He tries to sit up. “Check the glove compartment.”
I lean over to open it, then recoil when I see the gun.
“You have a gun?” I say, panic in my voice. “In your car?”
He laughs. “It’s fake. It’s from one of my dad’s movie sets.” He reaches over and grabs it. “See?” He holds it out to me. “It’s much lighter than a real gun.”
I push it away. “I don’t want to hold it. Why do you have a fake gun in your car?”
“In case I need to make someone think it’s real. If someone tries to rob me and I take this out? I guarantee they’ll think it’s real. The prop people are freaking amazing. They can make anything look real.”
I get off him and move back to my seat, grabbing my shorts from the floor. “Can you put it away, please?”
“Sure.” He tosses it in the glove compartment, then raises his seat back to normal. “Were there any in there?”
“I don’t know. I was too distracted by the gun.” I yank on my shorts.
He reaches in front of me to the glove compartment, moving stuff around. “I think it’s gone.”
“You used it?” I ask. “Recently?”
