It took quite some time for the words to register in Jackson’s English brain, and when they did, he tilted his head.
“My… apartment?”
“Yes. Or a hotel. Anywhere you were going to f**k that bi–lady.”
But instead of getting a move on, he sighed like the world was resting on his shoulders, dragging a hand down his face. He suddenly looked really exhausted. He turned and grabbed my shoulders, looking into my eyes.
“I know, darling,” he whispered, and my heart skipped a beat. I didn't know I'd been yearning for him to call me that until now. I hated that word. “I know I haven't really given a good impression so far. It’s been from one mess to another. I told you I want you, and God knows I mean it with everything that I am.”
His grip tightened on my shoulders, and I hated how his words a
