Mallory’s brows shoot up. “She told you her ex-husbands were multi-millionaires and billionaires? Like used those words?”
I give a firm nod. “That’s the type of woman she is. She’s not with any of them for love, it’s all for money, and one of those ex-husbands could have been Liam.”
Mallory sips her wine, regarding me. “I’ve never really taken Liam for being a guy that could be blindsided by anything.”
“That’s because you know him now,” I counter gently. “Back then, he was soft, where I was hard. He was a dreamer and a romantic.”
“And you weren’t?”
I shake my head. “I saw Sophia for who she was.”
Mallory pauses, absorbing a story I never thought I’d tell anyone else. The trees rustle around us, the slight, warm breeze brushing across my skin when she finally asks, “Did you think he’d forgive you once you explained yourself?”
“To be honest, I wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” I admit, which is where the twenty-two-year-old version of myself had gone wrong. “All I knew was I had to stop him from proposing.”
“Hmm…” She hesitates to sip her wine, frowns, then asks, “If you could go back in time would you do things differently?”
“I wouldn’t change a damn thing,” I tell her without hesitation. “At that point in our lives, I considered Liam family. I wouldn’t let that fucking money-hungry bitch destroy him. If that meant he had to hate me for it, then so be it.”
She begins to nibble her lip, eyebrows drawn.
I chuckle. “Something more to ask?”
“Did you tell Liam any of this?”
I poke the fire again, sending more sparks to flicker up to the dark sky. “He didn’t exactly give me the chance to.”
“Because he almost killed you?” she asks dryly.
“He tried.” I snort. “But as you see, I’m still here and kicking.”
She’s nearly off her chair now, scooting right to the very edge. “Okay, but after he cooled off, why didn’t you guys sit down and talk things out?”
I give her a look I assume appears deadpan. “We’re men.”
She suddenly shakes her head softly, muttering something I can’t decipher before she says clearly, “Well, Jackson, I have to say that this feud you two have going on is stupid.”
“Stupid?” I frown.
“Beyond stupid.” She takes a big deep breath before addressing me again. “I guess what you did is sort of sweet by looking out for him. Though it’s sweet in the most fucked-up way ever. Because honestly, you should have just let him learn from his own mistakes.” She waves that off, returning to her ramble that I find incredibly cute when it’s not directed at me. “That’s neither here nor there, because it’s happened and there isn’t anything you or Liam can do about it now.”
I arch a brow. “Is there a point you’re trying to make here?”
“Yes,” she says with a firm nod, “and my point is, obviously you two have broken hearts and need to have a man-hug and a good long talk.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “My heart is not broken over Liam, Mallory.”
“Oh, sure it is, and that’s okay.” She’s obviously not seeing my glare since she continues. “Before you get your panties in a bunch, Liam’s heart is broken, too. And before you ask, I know that because he’s still angry about what happened. No one would be that mad for so long if they weren’t still hurting. And he’s not over it because he misses you.” As if she has the entire world figured out, she laughs softly, shaking her head again. “I can’t believe that this entire feud is because you never talked about what happened.”
I keep thinking—hoping—she’s going to stop talking and end this hell, but she carries on. “I mean, seriously, you’re grown men now. The fact that this is still continuing shows you have a total bromance going on, and there are hurt feelings that need healing.”
“There is no bromance,” I retort, bashing the stick into the fire now.
“If you say so,” she says breezily. “I think if you talk to him—”
“Mallory,” I interject, and when her lips shut, I add gently, “I told you this because you asked me. I didn’t tell you this because I want you to somehow fix the situation.”
“What if it can be fixed?”
“It can’t be.”
She huffs. “But what if—”
“Mallory,” I warn, a sharp edge to my voice that even I can hear. “Enough.”
She draws in a deep breath and visibly gives up, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs. “Fine. You win, I’m done.” The orange hue lights up the side of her face, revealing her half-smile when she says softly, “Just so you know, I know you miss him.”
This is why I hate deep conversations.
Mallory
An hour later, the crisp water brushes across my bare thighs. I don’t prolong the torture. I dive under the surface and have a moment’s break away from everything. The story Jackson told me doesn’t put him in the greatest light but it happened over ten years ago. I’d made a mistake or two that I wouldn’t want to talk about, and I can’t ignore the fact that he told me the truth. That had to mean that his intentions for why he’d done what he’d done were good, even if the manner he chose to protect Liam was horrible. Then again, as I swim back up to the surface, what would I do if that had been Aria? If she’d been blinded by love. Could I stand by and watch a man use her?
Admittedly, I don’t think I could. Would I sleep with him to prove that point? No, of course not. But what would I do if she couldn’t see past the lies?
When I break through the water and inhale the deep breath my lungs are crying out for, I still don’t know.
“See, not as bad as you thought it would be, is it?”
I swim toward Jackson a few feet away. “You get used to the cold quick.” I pause, then add, “Though my nipples still haven’t.”
His chuckle slides over me when he reaches onto my arm, dragging me through the water toward him. I keep hold of his toned middle as he swims us closer to shore where he can kneel. I climb onto his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. He doesn’t seem to mind, sliding his hands across the small of my back.
He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. I can’t tell at all what’s on his mind but surprise drifts over me when he finally asks, “Why are you single?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask with a level look.
“If it were obvious,” he says, “I wouldn’t need to be asking the question.”
“Well, I don’t exactly fit the L.A. mold,” I explain. “I’m okay with it. I like who I am. But it’s hard to impress the gents when you show up for a date in jeans, ballet flats, and a blouse. It’s a tough game, and it’s hard to compete with a Barbie doll in a tight dress and high heels. I don’t really scream ‘sexy.’ ”
“That’s because you hide it.” He rubs his hands up and down my back.
“I hide being sexy?”
He nods slowly, like he has me all figured out. “You’re incredibly sexy, but at appropriate times. So, while the majority of men might not see the sexy in you out in public, you keep it to the bedroom. And that is the sexiest kind of sexy there is because it’s special. You don’t give that away to everyone.”
I laugh softly. “You know, I’d love to say that the way I’ve been with you is how I was with all my ex-boyfriends but that’s far from the truth. You make it easy to be sexy.”
“Well, then,” he murmurs. “I’m damn glad for that.”
I smile in response. “What about you? Why haven’t any of your past girlfriends locked you down?”
He runs his hands down to my bum, where he squeezes my cheeks, brushing me up against his hard cock. “I wouldn’t exactly call them my past girlfriends.” He gives me a measured look. “Let’s be honest. I know that Aria has talked to you about my love life.”
I shrug innocently. “She might have said something about how you go through women like they’re a weekly newspa
per column.”
He tips his head back and lets out a boisterous laugh. When he looks back at me, his eyes are still laughing. “I suppose that’s not all that far from the truth.”
“Do you sleep with them all?” I don’t even know why I care.
Slowly, he arches an eyebrow.
I quickly add, “I’m not going to slut-shame you or anything. There is nothing wrong with people fucking for fun, as long as no one is getting hurt in the process. Just call me curious.”
“Curious, hmm?” He slides one hand up to my nape, earning a shiver, when he adds, “No, I don’t sleep with them all. Very few, in fact.” He begins to smile at whatever crosses my expression. “My answer surprises you?”
“A bit,” I admit.
“Why?”
“Um, hello, you’re Jackson Keller.”
He snorts. “I am, yes, but what has that got to do with how many lovers I take to my bed?”
“It has everything to do with how many lovers you take to your bed because it also makes no sense,” I tell him honestly. “If you don’t have a lot of casual sex, then why don’t you have a steady girlfriend? I mean, I totally pegged you for having big commitment issues.”
“Did you?” He grins.
I nod. “Hence the casual sex. So, if I’m wrong about that, then why are you single?”
He hesitates, and with the moon lighting up one side of his face, I note the haunted look on his face when he explains, “I don’t want to do what my father did to my mother.”
It takes me a second to catch up. His answer blindsides me. I finally ask, “Sorry, can you explain that further?”
“My father broke my mother,” he says, voice soft. “While I know I’m not him, I also don’t want to do that to anyone.”
The cool water slides against my skin but I’m invested in this conversation, unable to look away. “If you know you’re not like him, then why do you even worry about ever acting like him?”
“Because I’ve never met a woman I’d go all in for,” he explains, dipping us lower in the water, bringing my shoulders underneath. “I won’t fuck up some woman because I want to fuck her. I date, and I date a lot, but at the end of the day they’re not what I want in my life.”
I cock my head, admittedly very curious about this new development. “How about women you do sleep with, what about them?”
“They only want sex, and when I do sleep with them, it only happens once.”
I stare at him, shocked by him. Of all the things I thought he’d tell me this certainly wasn’t one of them. And then suddenly something dawns on me. My mouth drops open, embarrassment flooding me.
His brows rise and he chuckles. “What is that look for?”
“Oh,” I say whimsically, “I’m just sitting here thinking that I thought you were a total playboy so I got all daring and totally seduced you.”
“Which I quite enjoyed,” he murmured, pulling me in closer.
“And yet, if I had known what you just told me before I probably would have never done that.”
He winks. “Good thing you didn’t know then.”
Apparently done with the conversation, he seals his mouth over mine. I’m still not sure what’s on his mind but his kiss is rough, telling me he doesn’t intend to stop until I quit thinking altogether. His hands are warming me, erasing the cold water around us. I reach for his face, embracing the power of his kiss, grinding myself against him in the way I’ve discovered he likes.
He groans and backs away then, swimming us over to the flat rocks at the edge of the island where we’d left our clothes. The water comes up to his knees when he takes hold of my waist and hoists me onto the edge of the rock. It’s not exactly comfortable, but I’m not thinking comfort when I watch Jackson reach for a condom out of his pants. I’ve seen three of my ex-boyfriends apply condoms, many, many times, and somehow, Jackson eroticizes the action.
The moon is casting a glow over him which further reflects out onto the water resembling black glass. Hard sculpted muscles fill my vision. There’s not one muscle more developed than another, he’s perfection. His chest perfectly squared, his abs perfectly cut. His cock my idea of perfect.
“You’re fucking me with your eyes, Mallory,” he says, breaking my trance.
I swallow against the added moisture in my mouth, pressing my hands across the smooth, cool rock. “That’s because I want to be fucking you, Jackson.”
Something passes between us then, leaving me winded. It’s intense and powerful and all the things we shouldn’t be feeling. It’s not supposed to feel this right. He’s not supposed to be this great. That’s when there is no running from what’s facing me. Something changed between us, and I can’t really recall when that happened.
It feels different when he takes hold of my hip and steps closer, pressing the tip of his cock against me. Emotional, maybe. I don’t know. I can’t think. He’s pressing inside me, filling me so perfectly. And I’m lost in the beauty of the moment, tilting my head back to stare upon stars in a way I’ve never seen them before.
Everything looks brighter, more alive.
I feel more alive when he hooks my leg around his strong arm. I drop my chin, glancing into his eyes again, grasping his forearms, enraptured by the view. The beauty of Jackson. The thickness of his muscles flexing under the moonlight. The way his cock disappears inside me. The pleasure on his face. I like being the source of his pleasure. I enjoy making him feel good.
There is nothing rough about him tonight. He’s slow and sensual, sliding his cock in and out so I can feel every inch of him. He isn’t kissing me, he’s watching me. It feels like he’s seeing me more than anyone has ever seen me. His hands grip me lightly, and his eyes…those are locked onto mine, filled with things I didn’t know he was capable of.
He’s not at all who I thought he was. He’s not only the fantasy. He’s better.
The way he watches me, so hungry, so needy for me, it rises my pleasure. He’s nibbling his lip, eyebrows drawn in pleasure. I cling onto his forearms when he grabs my hips, somehow locking me into his hold, pumping his hips, enjoying me instead of sending me screaming.
He’s paying attention. His gaze roams my face to my lips, my eyes, and then lowers to my breasts, my belly, my sex; it’s like he’s memorizing me. And now I know why because I’ve been memorizing him in the same way.
Water splashes up around us when he begins thrusting faster, working his cock into a rhythm, creating a perfect flutter of euphoria to fly through me. I can’t look away, lost in all the unsaid things between us. My eyes want to close, and I’m hanging on the very cliff of euphoria but I’m fighting it, just as I feel him fighting it.
When I see his eyes widen, feel his cock grow harder inside me while he bucks and jerks into his orgasm, his roar echoing across the night sky, I can only follow him over the cliff, all the time wishing this didn’t have to end.
That tomorrow would never happen.
Chapter 6
Jackson
I wake the next morning to Mallory’s curves. She’s on her side, her breath slow with sleep, her hair resting on the pillow as if she’d been laid out in a way to make her look even more beautiful. I glance over the smooth line of her neck to her shoulder and then down her arm where her body begins to dip down into her waist. The white sheet is low on her hip, tempting me to pull it away.
I don’t know what I’m doing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Mallory should be staying in this bed alone, and I should be on the couch below. Those are the shoulds that should have happened during our time here. Instead, I’ve now made all of this very complicated.
I’ve never been led by my cock before. This girl, though, she’s got me wrapped up. She’s sexy in ways I don’t seem to have a shield against. I could have said no, of course, but I wouldn’t have. She’s too tempting. Maybe it’s the way she’s both sweet and daring. It’s an incredibly rare combination. I like how she melts when I touch her. I want to watch her explode around me again and ag
ain, all because I can take her there.
While I listen to her soft sleepy breaths, I can only hope she means what she says. And that what happens here won’t affect us at home. Because I don’t even want to think of what Aria will do to me when she finds out I slept with her best friend. I care what Aria thinks. We’re close, I respect her. I don’t want to be hurting anyone.
Now thinking of Aria, I slide out of bed, intending to let Mallory sleep in since we don’t have to be back inland for another couple of hours. I quietly grab a pair of sports shorts off the floor then head down the ladder, moving into the kitchen. There, I quickly make some coffee and then reach for my cellphone on the counter that I had powered off Tuesday night.
Once I turn it on, as I expected, I find a single text.
You hurt her, I’ll never forgive you.
The text from Aria doesn’t surprise me but the last thing I want to do is hurt Mallory. I never wanted to hurt her. I planned to bring her here, give her a few days of relaxing and peace, all to piss off Liam. That was the plan. When exactly had the plan gone so wrong?
I click on my email, and notice an email from a lawyer in my firm who handled the Bakker Pharmaceuticals deal. We lost the deal on Monday to Liam, so I’m not sure why he’s emailing me now instead of waiting for me to come home. I open the email and it reads, Call me.
Donny has never been one for long-winded emails. I lean against the kitchen counter and click on the phone app, calling the office. When Keller LLC’s receptionist answers, I say, “Belinda, this is Jackson, could you transfer me to Donny?”
“Yes, sir, right away,” Belinda replies.
A second later, Donny’s voices comes over the phone line. “Ah, he lives.”
I chuckle. “I do.”
Bought by the Boss Page 14
