Back For Her: An Irish Mafia Romance

Why

Jackson's POV:

He hears her too, turning and moving out of the way to reveal a barefoot Kylie in a pair of tight black yoga pants and a matching black tank top.

She stands at the entrance of the living area, just staring back at me with a blank face, running her fingers through her wet hair. And unlike the other night, her face is completely bare of makeup, making her freckles more visible. So fucking beautiful...

"Are you gonna speak or just stand there staring?" She throws out abruptly, a hint of irritation crossing her brow. Fuck, I'm just standing here drooling over her like an idiot.

I look from her to the man that is still posted up beside her with his arms crossed with almost the same look of irritation that's on Kylie's face. Is she even going to ask him to leave? I look back to Kylie, my eyes drawn to her plump pink lip she's started chewing in anticipation.

"Do you mind if we talk... Alone?" I ask hesitantly, not wanting to piss her off any more than I already have. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief, before letting out a deep breath.

"Callahan, would you mind giving us a minute?" She asks coolly, reconnecting her eyes with mine. The look in her eyes now has my stomach starting to turn a little bit. I can't stand it when she looks at me like that. It breaks my fucking heart. Damn, maybe she does hate me.

"I'll be nearby if you need me." He whispers gruffly from beside her, giving me one last look up and down before narrowing his eyes at me and turning to leave the room.

Once I think he is far enough out of the room not to hear us, I turn my eyes back to Kylie, the intensifying look in her eye causing my nerves to shoot stupid shit out my mouth as usual.

"I swear that guy has a hard-on for you..." I try to laugh it off, seeing she's starting to lose her patience with me. Shit.

She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing up her breasts that are just barely being contained by the thin fabric of her little tank top. Couldn't she have put on a bra? Jesus, does she really not realize what that does to me? Or any other guy for that matter.

I shoot my eyes back up to hers, wanting to beat the shit out of myself for not being able to control my damn staring. It's just been so long since I've seen her bare-faced and beautiful, though.

"Not that it's any of your business Jackson." Putting a little extra emphasis on my name, she takes a few steps forward, causing my body to tense like it has turned to stone. "But he's one of my security guys and pretty much like an Uncle to me. He's probably, like me, just wondering what the hell you want." She tilts her head to the side, raising her eyebrows at me.

I try to search her face for some kind of hint as to how I should go about this. I can't tell if she hates me or she's just trying to act like she doesn't care. I have to start somewhere, though. I clear my throat, trying to push down that dry feeling that formed a lump in my throat when she entered the room.

"I'm sorry..." I can barely get a whisper out, but her face just barely lightens at my words, giving me the courage to take a few small steps forward, so I'm almost towering over her. She takes in a deep breath, her expression now shifting to one of complete vulnerability.

"Sorry for what? Abandoning me for seven years or sorry for treating me like shit the minute you got back?" Her harsh words cut right through me, making me wince. The look on her face still not changing.

That sick feeling in my stomach intensifies when her big blue eyes start to glisten with tears. She tilts her head back, closing her eyes real tight to hold back the tears. Baby, no, don't cry. Fuck. Some natural instinct compels me to take one giant step forward, about to reach for her to pull her into my arms when she throws her hands up, taking two big steps away from me.