His body covers mine, and I can feel his hard erection up against my stomach. We stare at each other, and instantly the air between us changes.
“Don’t,” I whisper up at him.
“Don’t what?”
“Hypnotize me with that magical dick.”
He gives me a cheeky wink. “You’ve got that the wrong way around, baby. I’m the only one who’s hypnotized around here,” he whispers as he leans down toward me. His tongue slowly slides through my lips. He kisses me again, with just the right amount of suction, and my knees begin to buckle beneath me.
Dear God . . . the man can kiss.
“Jameson,” I breathe against him. “We shouldn’t.” His hands roam up and down my body, and God, he feels so good.
“Don’t fight me on this,” he murmurs as he grinds me up against the wall with his hips.
“I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. Why would you deny your body what it so desperately needs from me?”
Oh God, he’s so right. My body does need his body . . . hard. So fucking hard.
Our kiss turns desperate, and my hands go to his hair. I know this is crazy, but I want him . . . all of him, and not just his body.
For a long time, we kiss like we’re the only two people left on earth. Hidden up against the wall, his body grinding on mine. Two bodies chasing their own pleasure in the darkness.
“I need you,” he murmurs against my lips.
I pant as his open mouth drops to my neck. God . . . the way he touches me is just so . . . “Jameson.”
“Now.” He pins me to the wall, and I feel his cock pulse.
Jesus, he’s close. He does need me.
“My place,” he pants against my lips.
“My place,” I fire back.
“No, my place,” he demands.
I pull back to look at his face. “It’s my place or nothing. Take it or leave it.”
He clenches his jaw; it’s obvious he hates losing a fight . . . any fight. “Fine.” He grabs my hand. “This way.”
“No.” I pull my hand out of his grip. “I don’t want anyone to see us.”
He frowns in question.
“You’re my boss,” I remind him. “I’m here with work friends.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Go and say goodbye, and I’ll wait for you downstairs. You have two minutes before I come up and drag you out.” He gives me a long, lingering kiss, and I turn, and he swats me on the behind.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I walk over to my friends.
He’s here. I’m going with him. It’s on.
Excitement fills me, and I try to act casual.
“Hey, where’s the god?” Renee asks.
“Oh.” I frown. “He was a dick,” I lie.
Ava rolls her eyes. “Typical. Men who look that good can’t be blessed with brains too.”
I smirk. I know someone who was blessed with both, but I’ll just keep that under my hat. I look over and see Jameson walking toward the elevator, and he gives me the hurry-up look. I smile; the pull to him is strong.
“Guys, I’m going to go.”
“What?” Their faces fall. “Why? The night is young.”
“I know. I’ve had such a great time, but my feet are killing me. These stupid new shoes are hell on earth. Next weekend I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’ll just jump in a cab downstairs.”
“Okay.” They roll their eyes and kiss me on the cheek.
“Text me when you get home,” Ava says.
“I will.” I smile, grateful that they aren’t bothered at all. “Thanks for asking me to come.”
Two guys walk up to us, and the girls both smile broadly. I take that as my out. “See you,” I call as I walk toward the elevator.
“Bye,” they call.
I jump in the elevator. “Where to?” the attendant asks.
“Ground floor.” He pushes the button, and we make our descent. My heart is hammering in my chest. Jameson Miles makes me nervous as all hell. I can’t remember when a man made me this excited to get him alone.
Act cool . . . just act cool.
The elevator doors open, and I walk out and look around. Where is he?
I continue through the foyer and peer out to the busy street; I can’t see him. What the hell? Did he leave without me?
“Lose something?” a deep voice asks from behind me.
I turn to see Jameson leaning up against the wall, and my heart somersaults in my chest. I walk over, and he takes me in his arms. “I did, actually.” I smile up at him.
We kiss softly, and it’s different from how we normally kiss; it’s tender and sweet, as if he’s been waiting to get me alone too.
“Let’s go home,” he whispers.
I smile. That sounds so good. “Okay.” We walk out the front, and he hails a cab. Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of my apartment.
“Thank you,” I say as I climb out. I turn and hand Jameson twenty dollars, and he shakes his head as if annoyed.
“I’ve got it,” he says.
He climbs out, and we walk through the foyer, hand in hand, as he remains silent.
“Where are the doormen?” he asks as he looks around.
“There are no doormen.”
“There’s no security in this building?” He frowns in surprise.
“There’s security.” I point to the intercom on the wall. “Nobody can get up without being let in.”
He frowns as he assesses it. “Any fucker could walk in here.”
“You are said fucker tonight.” I smirk.
He chuckles as he wraps his arms around me. “That I am.”
We ride to my floor and walk down the corridor; my heart is beating so fast. This is different from the other times we’ve been together. Normally we’re so blinded with arousal that we don’t even remember walking through the front door. I open the door and lead him into my apartment, and I hold my breath as his eyes scan the space.
My apartment is tiny—it would literally fit into his bedroom.
“It’s nice,” he says.
I giggle. “You’re a terrible liar.”
He chuckles and takes me into his arms. “Anywhere with you is good.”
Our eyes lock, and something changes between us. The anger and animosity between us has been replaced with tenderness.
The man I met in Boston is here.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. “We could get some Uber Eats. Caramel cheesecake.”
“What the fuck? You don’t actually get Uber Eats, do you?” he asks, horrified.
“All the time.” I shrug.
“Are you serious?” he stammers. “You actually give strangers access to your food?”
“They’re delivery drivers. Why wouldn’t I?”
“They see a meal for one. Put some Rohypnol into your food, wait for half an hour until they know you’ve eaten it and are unconscious, and then come back, break in, and take advantage of your body.” He dusts his hands in front of him. “Boom, easiest crime in history.”
My face falls. “What?” God, I’ve never thought of that.
“True story,” he says as he walks around my apartment. “If I were a rapist, that’s what I would do.”
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified by your evil thought process.”
He turns back to me, and his face softens. “Impressed—let’s go with impressed.”
I giggle as he takes me into his arms. “Okay,” I murmur. “Impressed it is. Why have you been so cranky with me this week?” I ask softly as I run my fingers through his dark hair.
“Because you’re fighting with me,” he whispers. “I don’t like it.” His lips take mine, and his tongue swipes softly through my lips.
“I’m not fighting now.”
“And look how fucking beautiful you are,” he says tenderly as he cups my face in his hands.
Our kiss deepens, and I want him naked. In my bed and naked. I slide his shirt off over his head and unzip his pants; his lips stay locked on mine as if he’s unable to drag them away.
His chest is broad with a scattering of dark hair, and his stomach is rippled . . . but it’s his dick that’s a standout.
The man’s hung like a horse. I don’t know if this thing even goes down. I most definitely have never seen it soft.
“You need to get on my bed on your back now,” I whisper as my eyes drop down his delicious naked body.
He smiles broadly. “That’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me.” He drags me through the apartment by my hand and into my bedroom; in one quick movement, he’s unzipped my dress, and then he slowly slides it down.
He holds my hand as I step out of it, and his eyes drop hungrily down my body. “You are so fucking beautiful, Emily.”
My heart swells at the way he is looking at me.
He lays me down and spreads my legs and slowly strokes himself as he stares down. I writhe as I wait for his touch. His lips take my nipple into his mouth, and my back arches off the bed. His fingers slide through the lips of my sex. He hisses in approval as he feels how wet I am. My breath quivers on the inhale. He’s just so . . .
Jameson Miles knows how to touch a woman.
Everything is magnified, to the point where even his blazing stare could make me orgasm.
His lips make a delicious trail down my body, and he kisses my inner thighs with his open mouth. My hands go to the back of his head. His hands hold my legs wide open, and his thick, strong tongue swipes through me.
My back arches in pleasure as my head tips back to the ceiling. “Oh God.”
He licks me, slowly at first, and then as if he’s unable to control himself, he begins to really eat me. His stubble burns my sex as my body begins to ride his face. “Oh . . . so good,” I whimper.
He lifts my legs to sit over his shoulders, and the change in position has my body trembling with need.
“Oh God,” I whimper as my hands fist in his hair.
“Come. I want to taste you,” he moans into me.
I convulse and shudder deep inside my body as I cling to him. He laps me up like I’m his last supper. He pulls back and unwraps a condom and passes it to me; I slide it on him with a soft kiss to his cock.
With his eyes locked on mine, he lifts my legs around his waist and in one strong movement slides deep into my sex.
We stare at each other as the air is knocked from our lungs.
“So fucking good,” he whispers as our eyes search each other.
He pulls out and then slowly slides back in. My mouth hangs slack at the feeling of his possession.
Nobody fucks me like Jameson Miles . . . nobody.
I can try to deny this emotional attachment all I want, but the physical . . . I just can’t.
He circles deep inside and then slams back in. I cry out as the air is knocked from my lungs. Then he’s riding me—deep, punishing hits—and my bed is hitting the wall so hard it may knock it down.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moans into my neck.
He lifts one of my legs, and I can’t hold it any longer. My body contracts around his, and he hisses as he comes with me.
We cling to each other as we pant, and I smile up against his cheek as euphoria runs through my blood.
Jameson Miles is my new drug.
And I am his crack whore.
I wake to the gentle breathing beside me, and I roll over and smile. Jameson is flat on his back and asleep. We had an incredible night.
The tender, witty guy was back . . . with no sight of the asshole CEO.
I lean up onto my elbow as I watch him. His dark hair hangs over his forehead, his big red lips are slightly open, and his eyelashes flutter as he sleeps. He has one arm behind his head, and the other is splayed on his stomach.
He’s beautiful—everything about him physically is beautiful. Last night I got a little peek that maybe he’s as beautiful on the inside as well. Stop it.
You’re getting clingy and attached.
Jameson is not the kind of man you get attached to.
He inhales deeply as he wakes, and slowly his eyes open and focus on me. “Hey, beautiful,” he whispers in a husky voice as he cups my face in his hand.
I smile and lean over and kiss him. “Good morning, Jameson.”
“Call me Jay.”
I frown in question.
“My friends call me Jay.”
“So we’re friends?”
He pulls me over his body onto his chest. “No, you’re my fuck bunny.”
I smile as I kiss his chest beneath me.
“What’s planned for today?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
He frowns as if trying to focus his eyes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll get my driver to pick us up, and I’ll make us some breakfast at my place.”
I lean up onto my elbow and look down at him. “What’s wrong with here? I’ve got breakfast things you can cook.”
“Nothing. I just feel more comfortable at my place. We will hang there today.”
“I’m more comfortable here, Jameson,” I reply, slightly annoyed.
“What?” He winces. “How could you be?”
I sit up, affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
He rolls his eyes. “Here we go a-fucking-gain.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You asked that question twice,” he replies dryly. “Do you have to argue about every fucking thing that we do?”
“I’m not arguing. I’m just saying I want to stay here today. Your apartment may be fancy, but it doesn’t impress me.”
He stares at me for a moment.
“And for the record, I don’t argue about everything. I was annoyed that your masseuse is on personal terms to message you the way she did.”
He rolls his eyes and puts the back of his forearm over them. “Here we go.”
“Will you stop saying that?” I snap as I get out of bed and put on my robe. “I was just lying here thinking how gorgeous you are, and then you go and open your big mouth and ruin the whole thing.”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” he snaps as he gets out of bed. “And stop going on about Chloe—it’s not a relationship.”
I stop still. What the hell does he mean by that? “What do you mean, it’s not a relationship? Do you and she have sex?”
He bends and picks up his jeans, ignoring me.
“Jameson.” I put my hands on my hips as I watch him.
He pulls his jeans on and zips them up. “Sometimes.”
“You have sex with her?” I gasp.
“I have a standing appointment on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She doesn’t come for sex, but sometimes it just happens. She’s touching me, I’m oiled up . . . it just happens.”
My mouth falls open. “Did you have sex with her this last week? Since you’ve been with me?”
He rolls his eyes.
“Stop rolling your fucking eyes at me,” I snap.
“No. I didn’t have sex with her this week.”
“Did you have your regular two massages?”
“Yes.”
“So you had someone else’s hands all over your body?” I fume.
“Like you did last night on the dance floor. Stop looking for a fucking fight, Emily. You are pissing me off.”
“Well, you’re pissing me off. Get out.”
“I’m already fucking leaving,” he barks.
“Go and have a massage today, you big sleazebag.”
He shakes his head in disgust. “You know what? You’re perfect for this fake news job. This drama thing is right up your alley.” He throws his shirt over his head and then sits on the bed to put his shoes on.
Rage fills me, and I pick up one of his shoes and throw it to the other side of the room.
“So tough,” he huffs.
I narrow my eyes as fury boils in my blood. “Yeah, like your Chloe’s vagina. How many clients does she fuck each week?”
“She isn’t my Chloe.”