Page 77 of Jett

“I’d rather not talk about the women I’ve dated,” I say, letting her think it’s about that. But I see a pattern.? I met Dina at an art gallery in Manhattan. Voluptuous and beautiful, she caught my eye as I people-watched, bored out of my brains. I met Alicia at a bar one evening, when my Vanhelm deal was sapping my strength. She was there, having just finished a court case. She had beauty and brains, and I don’t recall ever looking at the size of her breasts but … now that I think about it, Cari isn’t wrong.

I reach out and take a strand of her gorgeous red hair, feeling the texture beneath my fingers. Silky and soft, it glistens under the hanging Tiffany bar lights. “I don't go seeking women who have certain attributes, at least I didn't think I did, but—” My eyes instinctively dip to her chest before meeting her eyes again, “… it would appear that I’ve been fickle. You’re not like that, Cari.”

She looks affronted and with a toss of her hand moves her hair out of my fingers.

“You’re different.” I grab her wrist gently because I don’t want her to leave. “You’re different, Cari. I love—admire, I admire everything about you,” I say quickly. “But it's your personality and your wit, and the way you stand up to me, that makes you stand out.” I soften my hold on her.

She stares at me in silence, as if she’s trying to decide if she believes me or not. I’m such a hypocrite. I couldn't stand to see her talking to that boy-man, and the thought of her being at a pool party with him filled me with rage. It was whiskey that dulled my senses.

The reason for her wanting to leave pierces me like a blade. Seeing the things I’d get her to do for me that were not related to work, the errands I'd send her on—my own way of pushing her away—must been torture for her, given her confession.

“I'm sorry I did that to you,” I continue. “But I did it to create a barrier between us. I did it forme, and I hate that I hurt you.” I thumb her lower lip, the one she often chews without realizing, making me focus my attention on her mouth. She jolts under my touch. “This is new and unexpected, this revelation that you have feelings for me.”

In the silence, we eye one another warily. I can scarcely believe what she’s told me, and my hand moves to cup her face gently. Her skin is soft and warm, and lays against the palm of my hand as if it belongs there. I have imagined this moment for a long time, and now it feels like a dream from which I don't want to awaken.

She hasn’t said a word, but she also doesn’t stop me from touching her. “Whatever happened to that ... to that …” I have trouble asking the question. “That ... guy who used to come and meet you after work?” I move my hand away, and rest it on the countertop.

Just the thought of her with someone else is hard for me to take. Hard for me to even say. And yet, she's had to see me with my girlfriends. I have so much to do to make it up to her.

“Rory?” She looks away. “I broke up with him when my mom was sick. He wasn't there for me during that time. He seemed to think we could continue going to dinners and going on dates, and ... for him, life continued as normal.” She sighs. “I didn’t need him in my life.”

“He let you down?”

She looks up at me. “In more ways than I can count.”

What a loser. He had someone so precious and didn’t value her. To think that when she was going through that tough time, the one guy who should have known better had failed her. It pains me to think of her alone then, though I did what I could to help.

“I didn’t have time for anyone but my mom back then,” she continues. “I needed Rory to be my rock, my safe place, and he wasn’t. The last thing I needed was for someone to irritate me. You know how I can’t put up with nonsense.”

That's my Cari. I smile at her, and she smiles back. “You put up with me,” I say, wanting to take her mind away from her past.

“You were a challenge. And with you, it wasn’t nonsense.” She leans towards me now, and I shift closer. We're a tangle of legs, and I don’t know how it happened, but her knee is between my legs and my knee between hers. The problem is, her thighs are exposed and it takes all my willpower to not lay my hands on them, to not dip my head a few inches closer and plant a kiss on her lips.

I keep my wits around me, lifting my whiskey tumbler, and taking a big sip. “A challenge, huh?” Though, I know I was more than that, I'm sure. A moody, miserable asshole.

“You keptmeonmytoes. I didn't want to get anything wrong when I was working for you, but I messed up with the Vanhelm deal.”

I hate when she refers to it in the past tense. “You never got anything wrong, and the Vanhelm deal? Well, I was despicable. And you fixed everything, despite it being under the most difficult of circumstances. You're the best assistant I've ever had, and you’re still working for me now.”

“Is that what this is?” she asks, innocently, before resting her hands on my knees. My body responds, like she touched me with a hot poker. I almost flinch, but I stay strong and try not do anything hasty. She looks at me as if she's daring me to make a move.

I set my whiskey glass down and give in to my desire. I place my hands on her thighs and can’t help but hiss. Her skin is silky, and soft, and my fingers gently move over her. Fuck. My head drops to my chest, and I inhale a deep breath feeling my cock stiffen some more.

“You're ... uh ...” she whispers.

I lift my head to see her eyes on my package. The flimsy loungewear fabric hides nothing, and my erection looks huge.

“That’s all you,” I whisper. “You do that to me. I’ve been hard most of the time you're around, and if that sounds vulgar and disgusting—”

“I like it. I like that I do that to you.” But her hands remain fixed on my knees, as if she can’t trust herself to move them higher. My fingers, on the other hand, continue to trace over her skin, moving slowly towards her inner thighs.

Our gazes never drift. “You make me so hard that I need to take care of myself every night before I go to bed.”

Her mouth falls open, and she chews her lower lip.

Fuck. There she goes, doingthatagain.

“Are you wet?” I ask, my voice raspy with need. “I bet you are.”

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