Page 142 of Behind the Net

“Goodbye, Zach.” I look up at Jamie and see the pride in his eyes. “Let’s go,” I tell him and Hazel, and Jamie’s arm comes around my shoulders.

I don’t look back as we walk away.

CHAPTER67

JAMIE

I’min awe of Pippa.

You don’t want the best for me. You want the best for you. You never saw us as equals.

I love this woman, and I need to tell her. When we lay in bed last night, I almost said it, but I held back. Now, in the elevator up to our suite, I can barely keep from blurting it out.

I love taking care of Pippa, but she doesn’t need me. She can take care of herself, and I love her for that. In my mind, I see our future together, and I want it too badly.

Pippa’s my forever person. I know that now. I think I always knew it.

“You’re incredible,” I tell her, and a smile lifts on her face.

“Because of you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “That was all you, songbird.” I walk her back against the wall, holding her eyes. Electricity simmers around us, and I love the way she looks up at me, so trusting and sweet. “Have I told you how fucking beautiful you are?” I murmur, brushing her hair back before kissing her neck.

She laughs quietly under my touch. “Yes.”

“Good.” I nip her shoulder. Her breath catches, and I love the sound of it.

I’m so gone for this girl. I love every sound she makes.

The doors open on our floor and I take her hand, leading her to the suite. Inside, her gaze roams the space. The fireplace is on, there’s a bottle of champagne waiting in an ice bucket, and through the windows, the ski-hill lights twinkle.

She presses her hands together in front of her chest with a dreamy look on her face. “I never want to leave this place.”

I’m buying a place in Whistler, I decide, for weekends. A place just like this—cozy cabin style—where Pippa and Daisy and I can come to relax. What’s the point of making millions if I don’t spend it on the people I love, doing the things that matter?

This is what matters.

In the bedroom, I lace my fingers in hers, heart pounding as I kiss her, sinking into her warm, welcoming mouth, loving every catch of her breath, every quiet moan. I work her zipper down, letting the dress pool at her feet.

Pippa stands there in that lingerie, looking fucking delectable. Every cell in my body sings for this goddess. I run my hand through my hair as desire pulses in my blood.

“Fuck,” I breathe, memorizing how her tits swell over the lace, how the panties hug her curves, how her perfect pink nipples are barely visible. I brush my thumb over one of the peaks, and her eyelids fall halfway.

There’s a lingerie store near our apartment—I’ve passed it and thought about her a hundred times. I’m going there tomorrow, I decide, to buy half the store for Pippa. My jaw tenses as I picture Pippa wearing panties I bought for her. Her gasping as I tear them off.

Jesus Christ, that is fucking hot.

My pretty Pippa undoes my bowtie, and I feel a twist of affection. Undressing each other feels familiar, and I think back to when the valet referred to her as my wife.

I liked that. My mouth tips up as she undoes my shirt buttons. I liked that a lot. I picture this woman with my ring on her finger, and something possessive beats in my chest.

I like that image, too.

She pushes my jacket and shirt off, and they fall to the floor before her hand slides over my cock.

“I love how hard you get,” she breathes, watching her hand work me over my pants before glancing up at me with a playful smile.

Oh, yeah. She’s getting a ring. A big one. Loud and flashy. Disgustingly over-the-top. She’ll hate it, I’m sure, but I want people seeing it from a mile away. From space. I want it to signal to everyone that she’s taken.

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