He’s an expert at twisting my words. Typically, I can banter better than most people. Sarcasm is my first language. I’m either off my game today or Jackson’s thrown me—I’m not sure which.

Jackson smirks and his gravelly voice stirs the butterflies in my stomach. “I think you’re afraid of how handsome I am.”

“I think we can add frustrating to the list of your attributes.”

Jackson clears his throat. “So where’s your ring?”

“Oh, ummm, I left it home.”

The train starts moving. I only have about ten more minutes with him before we arrive at my station. I’m hoping there will be another delay so I can talk to him longer, or stare—either works for me.

“So what’s his name?” I scrunch my brows, confused by his question. “Your fiancé?”

“I should’ve said I left it home because he’s not my fiancé anymore,” I reply.

“Sorry to hear that, but I’m sure he’s much more sorry than I am.” Jackson grins, showing me that adorable dimple of his. For the first time, I get a strong whiff of his cologne. Why didn’t I notice it before? Now that I have, the thought crosses my mind that I could inhale it all day and be perfectly happy.

“Thanks. I’m not so sure he’s sorry at all, but I appreciate you saying that.” I smile.

His face changes and his now serious gaze locks on mine. It’s intense, so much so that I can’t look anywhere but into his captivating eyes. “I can assure you, Catherine, if he’s not sorry yet, he will be someday. Any man would be an idiot to let someone as gorgeous as you go,” he says, and his eyes dart to my lips.

“Jackson,” I say in a breathy whisper, unsure of whether or not I can say anything more than his name. My mind is scattered, invaded by thoughts of his lips touching mine, the feel of his mouth on mine, and all the ways I want to explore him. No one has ever confused me like this. I don’t know anything about him, but I crave his touch, his words, his presence. Something about him stirs feelings deep within me. Maybe it’s not something at all. Maybe it’s just him.

I turn to say more, but the train stops. Shit!

“I have to go. This is my stop.” I fail to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

I step past him into the aisle. As I’m about to walk away, he grabs my hand and places a kiss against my knuckles. “Until next time.”

Though I only have a minute before the train leaves again, I have to say something. I go with the only reply I’m capable of. “Good-bye, Jackson.”

I exit the train feeling off balance. Between Neil’s antics and seeing Jackson unexpectedly, I need to talk to Ashton more than ever. I feel like I’m one of those Stretch Armstrong dolls being pulled so taut I’m about to snap. I’m digging through my bag, looking for my keys, when someone grabs my shoulder, startling me.

I gasp and turn only to be gazing back into Jackson’s eyes.

“Hey.” He smiles and drops his hand.

“Hi,” I reply, bemused.

“Sorry, I realized you dropped your keys. Didn’t want you to have another disaster.” Jackson smiles warmly.

“How noble of you to save me again,” I say, moving through the parking lot toward my car.

“I guess this is our thing.”

“Oh, we have a thing, do we?” I ask with a smile.

“Are you asking about my thing?”

I gasp, immediately feeling my face flame red. “What? No! I never said anything about your thing.”

He laughs out loud, full-on belly laughing at me. After he recovers, his voice drops as he says, “So you do want to see my thing.” He winks and leans in close to me. So close I can smell the mint on his breath. “I wouldn’t mind.”

I take another step toward my car, flustered by him and my incapability to handle him. “Again I revisit the list—definitely a pain in the ass.”

“You just have to ask.”

My pulse is so loud I’m sure he can hear it. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not asking,” I manage to reply. I wonder if I sound as frazzled as I feel.

Jackson takes a step closer to me, stalking me like I’m his prey, and I counter with another step back. Once my back hits the car door … that’s it. He has me pinned and we both know it. He raises his arms, placing them on the frame and caging me in.

His lips brush against my ear when he whispers, “Oh, but your body says otherwise.” His body closes in on mine and the last remaining space between us disappears. Heat floods my core, my face, my body—my lids flutter closed and I take a shaky breath. “Open your eyes, Catherine.”

I submit to his command, watching how his pupils dilate as his eyes seem to go from solid to liquid. Colors blend together in a sea of blue and green lust. He leans forward, removing one of his arms from the car and placing it on my arm. Slowly his fingers trail my bare skin. The current flowing between us is even more powerful than before. While my common sense dies a slow death, every other part of me is alive under his touch. My body and mind are at war with each other, both trying to gain the upper hand—right now my body is winning.

He licks his lips slowly, torturously, until I’m unable to take another second of this suffering. I snap, grabbing his shirt and yanking him toward me. My lips meet his with a passion that borders on hostile. He pushes us backward, pressing me against the car. The cold metal bites through my shirt, but I don’t care. I can barely feel it. His tongue licks the seam of my lips, and when I grant him access, he plunges it in. With every swipe of his tongue against mine, he’s igniting the lust I was smothering.

I’m losing myself in his incredibly skilled mouth, feeling lighter, as though I’m floating away. The only thing tying me to this earth is Jackson. He’s taken over every part of me. All that exists are his hands and his lips and him, but I want more. I kiss him deeper and harder as he moans against me. Releasing his shirt, I run my hands down across his chest and then lower over his abs, taking in every dent and ridge. His arms pull me tighter, securing me against the front of him. I gasp at his excitement pressed against my stomach, and his mouth moves to my ear.

“Next stop Hoboken Station.”

“What?” I ask breathlessly as his nips at my earlobe.

“Now arriving at Hoboken Station.”

My eyes flutter open, expecting to see Jackson’s sexy face, but … no. I’m on the train.

Holy shit! I was dreaming. It was so real. My palms are sweating and my pulse is racing, and if I’m being honest, I’m panting a little. But none of it happened. Oh, how I wish it had.

I gather my belongings, grab my keys out of my purse, and head out to my car. That drink is looking better and better.

The drive back to my apartment is short thanks to the lack of traffic at this time of day. It’s odd being home so early. I have about an hour until Ashton is due home, which gives me enough time to change and check my emails. Throwing my hair into a messy bun, I opt for my leggings, a gray tunic, and my mint-green lace leg warmers—cute and sassy, as Ashton would say. I can’t wait to unload all the stuff going on in my messed-up brain—nothing seems to make sense.

I step out into the living room and stop dead in my tracks. This place is a mess! Papers are everywhere, mail’s lying around, dirty dishes sit on the table, and clothes are strewn over the back of the couch. Between both our schedules, the house is rarely spotless, but we’ve never let things get this bad. I decide to skip the emails and pick up a little. We pay way too much money for this place to allow it be this out of control. Ashton and I looked for an apartment in Manhattan. We had always wanted to be like the girls on television, but once we saw the going rate for apartments and sublets we opted for New Jersey. Our high-rise is on the river, overlooking the city, so our rent is high, but it’s worth it. We both make a good salary, so we decided to live comfortably and have an apartment with security.