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Jackson had built a reputation for being laid back, and while a bit sociable, she mostly kept to herself. She could have explained that she was engaging in the Die Hard drinking game—taking a shot of vodka every time Bruce Willis's character swore—to distract herself from the anxiety and excitement for the party she was going to after she'd left this one, but Jackson settled for just getting good and drunk. She bailed on shot number six, seeking refuge in the guest bathroom.She spent her time staring at her reflection through the bathroom mirror, idly observing her mocha skin. Scenes of what might happen if she decided to take Regina up on her offer ran rampant through her mind, scenes that had her throbbing between her thighs. Would Regina try to dominate her? Would they enjoy her? Would Jackson enjoy it? That was the fun, she told herself. The uncertainty of it all, thrilling and frightening—intoxicating. As the moments passed, she realized that a small part of her didn't mind. His space in their bed was cold and empty. Pairen could hear his fingers gracing the keys, filling the air with the most elegant sounds of music. That was what the world craved, paid and cried for in his presence. Creativity, sadness or stress were the only things that would not allow him to sleep. She knew which it was and it pulled at her heart. Naked, she followed the sounds to find him. In the low light of a night with a full moon, he sat at the piano in his own nakedness. He played with his eyes closed, head slightly tilted to the side as if feeling every chord. It reminded Pairen of how he had tortured her the first time they had made love. She had been straddling his lap at that very piano. He had entered her so slowly, at first watching her face closely as he slipped in. Then he had closed his eyes and tilted his head while filling her, as if he wanted to experience every second of his descent toward her very core. Pairen had been caught between the wonderful sensation that.
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