Page 79 of Unbossly Manners

“I don’t regret it.” His eyes bore into mine, wanting me to hear him.

I dropped my chin to my chest. “But you didn’t want me to know.”

His finger slid along my jawline and hooked under my chin, lifting my face. With me slightly higher on the trail and him below, we were face to face. My eyes slid to his lips, parted slightly, breathing heavily from the effort of the hike.

To think those soft pads had been on my lips a week ago. I’d spent more hours than I’d like to admit wondering what that might feel like. Somewhere, trapped in my mind, was the knowledge of it.

“I don’t regret it,” he whispered again. His lips were a breath away and his words fluttered against my lips, warm and moist. Gravity slid me another inch down the steep path, and my chest pressed against his, his heady scent filling my nostrils.

His hands were still around my ribs and he tightened them, gripping our bodies together, the heat between us almost scalding.

Jackson’s thumb tugged at my bottom lip and I swallowed loudly, my mouth moistening in anticipation. He wrapped his hands around my back and held me in a tight grip against his body. His lips fell against mine and I sighed in relief.

My hands weaved into his thick hair, cradling his head. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, and my tongue grazed the inside of his lip. He groaned and opened his mouth fully, our tongues colliding in a satiny dance.

His hands were tangled in my hair but then there was a tug and a sharp pain.

“Ow,” I breathed out.

“Sorry.” He pulled back again, strands of my hair caught around his finger. I wrapped my hand around his, trying to untangle the mess.

“You’re caught in my ring,” he said, concentrating on pulling my long strands out of where they were tangled.

Primal anger hit me in the gut, and I snatched his hand, held the few pieces, and ripped them out, my scalp screaming.

I stumbled backward, charging back down the trail. His wedding ring. His fucking wedding ring.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.

This vicious cycle stopped now. I reached the car, not looking back for Jackson, and searched on my phone for an Uber. I was furious with Jackson but I was more furious with myself. There was no service and I shoved my phone into my pocket.

What was he doing? What was I doing? Why was he toying with me?

Jackson appeared, typing rapidly on his phone, his face folded in concern. The car door clicked, unlocked, and Jackson slid in. He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel, staring out the window. I swallowed my anger, concerned he had bad news about the company.

I gingerly sat and placed his phone in the cup holder, then asked, “Was that the office? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Kat. She’s back in the city.”

My stomach clenched.

“What about India? The organization?” I swallowed. “Devan?”

“They broke up. She quit.” Jackson pressed the gas and I jolted forward.

“Do you need to go back to the city?”

“No.” Jackson slammed on the breaks at a four-way stop, then turned to me, his eyes bright—from anger or joy I couldn’t tell. “She’s renting a car. She’ll be here in five hours.”

thirty

“What the hell happened on that mountain?” Selena asked the moment she saw my face.

We were in our master suite, Selena sitting on the king bed with her laptop on her lap looking at pictures from a Bat Mitzvah she’d photographed.

“Jackson revealed that we sucked face the night I was drugged, that he lied about it, then I yelled at him, we kissed, my hair got caught on his wedding ring, and I ran away.” I fell back on the bed, my hand covering my eyes. “And, oh yeah, Kat’s arriving in four hours.”

Selena slammed her laptop closed. “Back this bus up. Start again. You kissed Jackson?”

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