Page 101 of Prey Tell
“I should go,” he says, bending down to kiss me softly on the lips. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I have to work on my dissertation tomorrow, and then I’m getting dinner with Jackson.”
“What if I bring you lunch?” he suggests.
I grin. “I’d love that.”
He smiles too, and it makes my stomach flutter. “Goodnight, Parker.”
“I’ll lock up,” I say quickly, starting to get off the bed.
He holds a hand out. “I still have a key. I’ll lock up. Go enjoy your bath.”
He gives me a dazzling smile before exiting my bedroom. I hear him close the door, and then I collapse back onto the bed as the bath fills.
I roll onto my side, smiling like an idiot.
Oh, I am in so much trouble.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
THE UNCERTAINTY
Chase
After leaving Juliet’s house, I head back to my apartment. I can already feel the void of not having her around. Like a goddamn addict. I spent all week thinking about her, grateful for the daily check-ins, impatient for tonight… and all I could think about from the minute I saw her in that dress was ripping it off. I wasn’t lying when I told her that she makes me feel feral. I’ve always been primal, but she turns me into a sex-crazed beast.
It’s also more than that, though—and I have to push it down into the recesses of my mind so that I don’t overanalyze.
And it’s not that I avoided intimacy—it just never interested me. There’s something to be said for the fact that I also care about her as a friend. I always have. I’ve always wanted to take care of her.
I don’t half-ass anything.
Perhaps that’s why I feel the need to give her everything—every fucking piece of my soul.
When I pull into my garage, I lock the vintage car up and take the elevator up to my apartment. I quickly check my appearance in case Jackson is still awake, and when the doors open, I make my way to the kitchen.
“Hey,” Jackson says, nursing a cup of tea. He’s sitting at the island, looking exhausted as hell, like usual.
“It’s past your bedtime,” I tease.
“It’s only ten,” he deadpans, glaring at me. “And where wereyouthis lovely evening?”
“Gallery opening. New client. Though her husband is a fucking creep,” I mutter.
“Our lives are so different,” Jax jokes. “Tea?”
I shrug. I’d prefer scotch, but I also know that it’s rare that we’re able to talk like this with no distractions.
“Sure. I’m going to go change.”
My feet clack along the marble as I walk to my bedroom, loosening my tie. After changing into sweatpants and a T-shirt, I saunter back into the kitchen.
“Have a good night?” I ask, sipping the herbal concoction and trying not to grimace.
He nods but doesn’t elaborate. We sip our tea in comfortable silence. I think about Juliet taking a bath—about how she mentioned telling Jackson about us. The thought makes me nervous as fuck. I’d like to think that Jackson would be happy for us, but he’s also been a constant witness to my lifestyle—my parties, the women in and out of my bedroom, a new one every week. I grip the mug tightly as I think about how it would play out. Me asking about Juliet. Maybe broaching the subject. Would he be happy? Or would he tell me to fuck off? The last thing I want to do is for him to find out the wrong way—perhaps catching us somehow.
So, fuck it. Maybe I can lay the groundwork. It’s not like I intend for her to go anywhere. I’m all in now—and it seems like she is, too.
