Page 52 of Behind the Net

“That’s what you’re wearing?”

The words are sharp and short, like he doesn’t approve, but the heat in his eyes tells me a different story. My face heats.

This isn’t a good idea, I told him after we kissed.You’re my assistant, he said.

This past week, we’ve been acting like the kiss never happened. He joined me on a few dog walks around Stanley Park and in North Van, and Donna joined us once when we hiked Seymour Mountain. It didn’t seem like she picked up on any weirdness between us. I have a feeling she’d say something or tease us if she did.

“You look great,” I tell him, taking in his charcoal suit. “You’re going to have women falling all over you.”

Good lord, he looks good. The suit must be custom, because it fits him perfectly. He isn’t wearing a tie, and instead, the top two buttons of his white dress shirt are open.

He holds my eyes, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. I chew my lip, trying not to remember the sound I heard the night we kissed.

I can’t help it, though.

That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep, but all I could think about was Jamie’s lips on mine, and his tongue stroking into my mouth like he owned me.

When Jamie went into his room, I heard it through the wall—his low groan. The same low groan I heard a few weeks ago. He was stretching, I had told myself.

He wasn’t stretching.

The second I heard it, my eyes went wide with shock, and the apex of my thighs heated. For the first time in… I don’t know how long, I slipped my hand into my panties and touched myself—quick, light strokes. I came in less than a minute. A new record. I couldn’t believe it.

Actually, looking at Jamie now, in his charcoal suit, I can believe it. I can believe it so hard.

My gaze drops to his mouth, pressed in a flat, unhappy line, and I remember how consuming his kiss was. A shiver rolls down my back.

“You’re going to be cold,” he mutters.

“I’m bringing a jacket, bossy.” I roll my eyes at him, and his jaw ticks again. I stride past him to the front door, and when I lean down to put my heels on, I stumble over Daisy’s leash.

Jamie sighs and walks over.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, but he crouches at my feet and takes my shoe from me.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.”

“I’mfine.”

“Pippa.”

I sigh and set my hands on his shoulders before he slips my shoe on and buckles the delicate strap.

“You’re surprisingly nimble.”

I crook a grin at him, and as he looks up at me, something hot and smug flashes through his weird mood tonight. “I’m very good with my fingers.”

My breath catches in my throat. He’s kneeling in front of me, big hand circling my ankle, telling me how good he is with his fingers, and I picture this scenario going in a very dirty direction. Sparks burst between my legs, and our eyes are locked.

If I were braver, I’d say something bold and sexy likeshow meorprove it, but instead, I just stay quiet, looking down at him with heat pulsing between my legs.

He breaks eye contact first, looking down to put on my second shoe, and when he’s done, he stands and pulls my coat out of the closet, holding it for me to slip my arms into. I feel weirdly shy after having his hand brushing my ankle, but I blink it away and give him a quick smile.

“Ready?” I ask.

He nods once. “Bye, Daisy,” he calls, and she opens her eyes halfway before going back to sleep.

We ride the elevator to the parking garage in silence. He opens my car door, and I thank him, but he just nods at me with a grunt. I watch him circle the car to his door. His jaw is tight again, and he’s wearing his displeased frown.

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