Page 73 of Our Elliana

“You know it is.”

His smirk deepens. “Yeah, I do.”

I snort at him because if there’s anything Jackson loves more than sex it’s getting a compliment. Yet my humor somehow morphs into something far more irksome as tears crest in my eyes and slide in hot streams down my cheeks. Worse, they not only won’t quit, my chest adds sobs into the mix, as well as a bawling cry I can’t quite keep muffled so he won’t hear.

The humiliation trifecta.

“Aww, Elliana honey, it’s gonna be okay.” I know it’s bad now. He’s never referred to me as “Elliana honey” before. And still, I can’t stop blubbering like a baby.

So, still naked, Jackson stands there rocking me in his strong and steady grasp until I manage to regain control of my composure. It’s a much longer interlude than I care to admit.

“Why me, Jackson? Why is someone targeting me?”

“I don’t know. But if I did, you wouldn’t be troubled by whoever it is ever again.”

I stare at him, checking to see if he’s joking, but he’s not. He’s nowhere even close to amused right now. And Jesus, such an upsurge of affection and appreciation for him rolls over me that it steals my breath. In truth, those feelings don’t only extend to him, but to all my guys. I adore all of them, and not as employees or contractors.

Not as fuck buddies or friends with benefits, either. No, my emotions toward them run deeper and truer. As rough as times have been lately, having them around makes everything a million times less terrible. Yet my time with them has an expiration date. I even know when it’ll land on the calendar.

January fifteenth.

It’s like the weeks are accelerating as they zoom past at lightspeed. Why couldn’t I have met all of them in the wild, so to speak? I know it would’ve been next to impossible, but I want all three of them to stay with me for a long time. Maybe longer than a long time.

I just wish the weight of me hiring them didn’t have to be over their heads. It makes any long-term romantic relationship untenable due to the power dynamic.

Is that what this is?

A romance?

Deep down, I’ve been feeling tenderness and loyalty for each of these men for a while now. This could even be bordering on love if such a thing were feasible. It’s not, though. It’s unlikely any of these guys feel the same. Which leaves me in a devastating quandary.

If I renew their contracts, they’ll stay, which would be what I want. But even if I try to cultivate a true and abiding romance with them all, I’ll have to ask myself if they genuinely love me or if they’re only in it to get paid.

By me.

I’m falling for these men, but there’s hardly any likelihood that they could ever reciprocate.

Jackson pushes a long lock of my hair behind the shell of my ear, and I trail my fingers along the R in his Rosie tattoo.

“What are you going to do when this ends?” I ask him.

“When what ends, honey?”

“When this contract with Elegance ends?”

He goes so stationary that he might’ve ceased breathing. It’s as if Medusa just turned him to stone. When he doesn’t reply, I prompt him. “Jackson?”

That finally unsticks him, and he peers at me, his expression so solemn that he doesn’t even resemble the playful and mischievous musician I know.

“Well, Elliana, that’ll be up to you, won’t it.”

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