Page 120 of Jett

I want to see her face when I empty into her. Her eyes close, and she is lost in her own bliss. “Look at me, Cari.” I need to see her. Her eyelids flutter open and I go hard, slamming in and out of her. Her muscles tighten around me and she milks me. It feels so good.

I stay like that for a while, buried inside her and she watches me watching her. Damn if this isn’t the most intimate we’ve ever been. I want to fall asleep like this. We’re lost in a haze of sensual fog, until finally, I lay beside her. We catch our breaths, and lie sated in the sultry heat of the night.

Chapter 43

CARI

These last few days of ours are beautiful memories I will cherish forever. Jett checks his laptop every morning and night, but he doesn’t go into the study to work. He’s adamant that he won’t.

We’re at Horseshoe Bay where the air smells of salt and sunshine, and the water sparkles like a jewel. Brooke squeals as she splashes in the shallow lagoon chasing minnows, while Jett eyes her like a hawk. He’s protective in a way that makes my chest tighten—a man who will do anything for his daughter.

The day passes in a blur of laughter, swimming, and exploring. Jett even loosens up enough to join Brooke on a makeshift rock slide into the water. Watching him laugh, his hair dripping wet, is something I’ll never forget.

Back at the house, we have dinner outside in the gazebo. It’s such a pretty place, a wooden structure elevated slightly above the garden, framed by lush bougainvillea spilling over the edges. I wish we’d had more dinners out here, but Jett tells me the private island will take my breath away.

I can hardly wait.

The air is balmy and filled with the clicking of crickets and the occasional rustle of palm fronds in the breeze. It’s the kind of August night that feels like it could stretch on forever.

After dinner, Brooke plays on the swings while Jett and I sit with cocktails. Mine is fruity and bright, his is dark and brooding like the man himself. He leans back, stretching his long legs as he looks out at the garden.

“This was a good idea,” I say, taking a sip. “Having dinner out here. I wished we’d done more of that.”

“We haven’t spent much time relaxing around the house,” he agrees. His gaze softens. “I wanted to make a few memories.”

I smile at that. “You’ve finally figured out how important those are?”

He looks at me, something unspoken in his eyes, and nods. I feel as if he’s about to say something, but Brooke’s giggles float through the balmy evening air and grab my attention. She’s moved from the swings to the small slide and climbs the ladder, pausing dramatically at the top. “Look at me!” She waves as if she’s royalty addressing her kingdom.

Jett and I wave back, our smiles conspiratorial as we huddle close, whispering about our island getaway. It’s a delicious little secret, a treasure we’re keeping from Brooke until we get there. Just thinking about those three days of peace, surrounded by turquoise waters and quiet, makes me giddy. Like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Brooke sits at the top of the slide, her little legs swinging. She’s about to push off when her gaze shifts over my shoulder. Her eyes light up. “Grandpa!” she shrieks.

My blood freezes.

I freeze, turning slowly to see if Brooke is imagining things—or if the devil himself has decided to ruin our perfect evening. And there he is—Paul Knight, with his cold, piercing gray eyes locked on Jett.

Jett stiffens beside me. His jaw clenches so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. We pull apart, the easy warmth we shared seconds ago is gone, replaced by an icy tension that prickles my skin.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Jett says, his voice flat, controlled.

Paul Knight doesn’t flinch. “Good evening to you, too.”

No hug. No handshake. Not even a nod of acknowledgment between father and son. It’s like they’re strangers passing each other on a street corner, the air between them electric with unspoken resentment.

“Hi, Mr. Knight,” I manage, though my voice sounds too thin, too weak. My heart plummets to the depths of my stomach like a rock. The island getaway we were planning vanishes in a puff of smoke.

Brooke doesn’t notice the tension crackling around us. She’s already slid down the slide and is racing toward her grandfather. “Grandpa!” she squeals again, throwing herself into his arms.

Paul scoops her up with a smile that looks almost genuine.Almost. He spins her around, laughing like a doting grandparent. The display is so out of character that I blink, wondering if I’ve stepped into an alternate reality. Since when does Paul Knight indulge in anything resembling affection?

“What are you doing here, Grandpa?” Brooke’s voice bubbles with joy. Jett and I hold our breath, waiting for his answer. Waiting for the motive behind this sudden, unannounced appearance.

“I was passing through,” Paul says, his tone vague.

Passing through?Passing through Bermuda? What’s next—he casually drops by Antarctica?

“Are you here to check up on me?” Jett’s voice is sharp. There’s no mistaking the animosity there.

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