Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5)

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Honey …” Andrew said so softly.

  She dragged her eyes away from the machine and looked at him. The last time he had sounded this way was when he recited his wedding vows.

  Honey needed to know what that meant.

  At first, when their eyes connected, the only thing she saw in his was love.

  But then his face filled with the warmest smile, and he pointed at the screen and said to his wife, “Look at what we made, baby.”

  Honey quickly took a breath and turned to Dr. Katz.

  “Yes,” she confirmed, “both the ultrasound and your bloodwork are positive.”

  “Oh my God,” Honey cried.

  She felt a rush inside her chest, like they were swimming at Ogunquit Beach and the largest wave was headed for them. She felt tears, like the ones she had left on the bathroom floor. More than anything, she felt a happiness she hadn’t known existed.

  Her body had finally listened. After all the begging and pleading, the promises and negotiation. The fear that had consumed her because she worried she wouldn’t be able to have children.

  Now, that was all gone.

  Because her body had finally listened.

  She put her hand over her mouth, still staring at the screen. “Andrew …”

  His lips were on her cheek. “That’s our baby.”

  “I would say you’re about eight weeks along,” Dr. Katz informed them.

  There was a knot so large in the back of Honey’s throat that she was unable to fight the tears.

  Andrew wiped every one before they fell. “You made me a daddy.”

  Honey’s eyes clenched together, lips quivering, and when she opened them again, the screen hadn’t changed. The bean she had been staring at was still there.

  The same one that would soon be calling her Mommy.

  Jared

  After Tony took me for a long drive in the city, I returned to my office several hours later, seeing my phone still sitting in the middle of my desk. The time I’d spent in the backseat of the SUV, trying to work it all out in my head, helped tame what I was feeling. But seeing my cell again threatened to bring it right back up.

  I’d conquered many things in my life.

  Getting a handle on myself when it came to Billie should be the easiest.

  It was proving to be the hardest.

  I touched the screen of my phone, found her message, and reread it over and over.

  There were many reasons we were perfect for each other, but the bad outweighed the good, and I certainly didn’t need Marcus’s phone call to remind me.

  There was just one problem.

  What I’d learned about her from the first time I was in her presence was that I couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t stop myself from touching her.

  That didn’t excuse what had happened last night.

  But now, looking back on it, there was nothing I could have done to prevent it.

  I was defenseless when it came to her.

  Only her.

  The guilt wasn’t going to leave, no matter what. It would live in my chest for the rest of my life, causing the same amount of pain if I was with her a second time.

  And a third.

  So, I saw no reason to stop … yet.

  Me: Dinner this weekend?

  I set the phone back on my desk and turned my attention to my computer, clearing out my inbox from the emails that had come in while I was gone. I didn’t get through more than a few when a text came across my screen.

  Billie: I suppose it’s your pick, huh?

  Me: Did you have something in mind?

  Billie: I’d really love to try your cooking.

  Me: Lol.

  Billie: Oh, you think I’m joking?

  I smiled as I looked at the screen.

  She’d made a fair request. I’d been to her place after all, so I wasn’t surprised she wanted to see mine. As for the cooking, she knew I didn’t have the palate of a novice, and she wanted to test my skills.

  I had to give the girl credit.

  But the difference between her invitation and one that would come from me was that Billie and I didn’t have the same struggles. She didn’t have the weight of our future dangling in her face like a goddamn carrot or the knowledge of what had really brought us together.

  Some things in life were a coincidence.

  My encounter with Billie Paige was not.

  Me: Challenge accepted. How about tomorrow night?

  Billie: Can I bring anything?

  Me: Just you.

  Me: Unless … you want to fly to Martha’s Vineyard tonight?

  Me: Say yes.

  Billie: I can’t.

  Me: I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  I was sure she was staring at the phone, thinking of me as the guy who had saved her, disappointed with herself because she kept turning me down.

  Billie didn’t realize something …

  I was going to hurt her far worse than Flight 88.

  Billie

  I’d walked past Jared’s building in Tribeca so many times in the past, never giving it a second glance, never considering a hero and the man I was falling for lived in there. But tonight, I went to the front entrance and gave the security guard my name. He held a tablet that I pressed my hand onto while it read my prints, and then he scanned my license before he brought me into a short hallway where there was an elevator. I would have asked him which button I needed to push, but there was only one, and it was already lit.

  The door closed before he said a word, and the elevator began to rise.

  I barely had time to catch my breath when it opened. I didn’t move as I took in my surroundings, realizing I wasn’t in a hallway, but an entryway to a home.

  Jared’s home, I assumed.

  Gripping my favorite bottle of wine and a box of dessert, I walked into the foyer and gave a loud, “Hello?”

  “I’m in the kitchen,” Jared called back, slightly muffled.

  There was rock ’n’ roll playing through hidden speakers, and soft lighting and masculine artwork adorned the walls; together, they set an unforgettable tone. From the entryway, I turned a short corner and was dumped into the mouth of the most impressive condo I had ever been in. His ceiling was twice the height of mine, and the rooms were open and airy with a back wall that was made of nothing but glass. What filled the massive space were the most gorgeous furnishings done in black and silver.

  It wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned.

  It was better.

  “You have to be kidding me,” I said as I walked farther in, stopping halfway between the kitchen and windows. “This view”—I took a breath—“is … wow.” It was an overwhelming, unobstructed angle of lower Manhattan. “I can’t believe you get to wake up to this every day.”

  My eyes shifted, and in the reflection of the glass, I could see him behind me in the kitchen. My gaze moved again, and SoHo was directly in front of me.

  Even though the situation was different, it reminded me of what I had done on the plane the first time I saw Jared.

  The thought was jarring.

  “Good evening, Billie.”

  I tried to fill my lungs, and I turned around. He was at least fifteen feet behind me, standing at the range with a wooden spoon in his hand, his stare on me while he stirred.

  “Hi.”

  He’d trimmed his beard, so his neck was shaved clean, and the whiskers all around were a little shorter.

  I felt the hunger in his eyes all the way from here.

  I was certain now I couldn’t breathe.

  Except … I didn’t want to.

  Whatever this feeling was, I hoped it never left.

  He smiled. Not fully. Just enough to show a hint of teeth, and his lids narrowed. “You look beautiful.”

  I was in a long sweater that hung off one shoulder, jeans, and a flat pair of knee-high boots. There was nothing beautiful about what I had on. But I didn’t get the feeling Jared was talking abo
ut my clothes. I got the feeling he was describing the way he thought of me.

  Oh God.

  My feet started to move, carrying me closer, and I was suddenly in the kitchen. As I approached, he put the spoon down, and I set the wine and dessert on the counter. I fell into his arms. While he held me, the most incredible smell filled my nose. Part was from the stove, an aroma that was making my stomach do more than tingle. The other was just Jared, a scent I was starting to crave when I wasn’t with him.

  He leaned back from our hug, and his lips went to mine, kissing me with a passion I felt through my entire body. His hands started in the middle of my back but were now lowering to my ass, squeezing it while our mouths locked.

  I didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally broke away. I just knew, when it happened, I was breathless.

  “Jared …” I felt my cheeks stay flushed, my chest heaving.

  His hand went to my chin, holding it there for a few seconds before he returned to the spoon. “Are you hungry?” I didn’t get a chance to respond before he added, “Dinner will be ready in four minutes.”

  I smiled as I looked into the pot, watching the risotto swirl inside. “Italian, huh?”

  He laughed, bending his neck to kiss me on the cheek. “You said it’s your favorite.”

  I was positive every nerve ending was screaming inside me. “I love how well you listen.” My stare moved to the other side of the counter where I saw several bottles of wine. “How about I get us a drink?”

  I felt his gaze on me while I moved across the kitchen, taking my time so I could really explore the room. Whoever had designed the space spared no expense. He had top-of-the-line appliances, the newest features on each, with a farm sink that would make any mother drool. The only thing missing was a personal touch. The same was true for the living room and entryway.

  There was no way to know this condo was Jared’s and not someone else’s.

  He even protected himself in his own home.

  That was his decision, and I respected it, but I needed more.

  “Jared,” I said, holding one of the wine bottles in my hand, waiting until he looked at me over his shoulder. “What was the last vacation you took, and who was it with?”

  He stared at me silently, as though he was thinking about my question. Even his arm slowed from stirring, the seconds ticking by before he finally answered, “It was a week before the crash. I went skiing with my best friend in Aspen.”

  “Did you take any pictures?”

  I understood not being on social media. My family was the same way, not a single person interested in the hype or the aspect of sharing anything with a virtual audience. But with his online absence, I felt like there was no window into Jared’s life.

  There was another pause, and then he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. “Come here.”

  I left the bottle on the counter and returned to his side, staring at the picture of the two men on his screen. They looked nothing alike, his best friend’s hair blond with eyes that were light. There were skis on their feet and poles in their hands.

  I could picture him after several runs down the mountain, drinking a rich whiskey with a dusting of snow still in his hair. The image was incredibly sexy.

  “He’s a retired Navy SEAL,” he said, still holding his phone out in front of us.

  “You’ve known him a long time?”

  “My whole life.”

  The more I studied the shot, the more I could see their bond. “Where does he live?”

  “Here.” Jared grinned, but it was different than any of the expressions he’d worn before. This was almost a peaceful look that I hadn’t seen. “He works for me.”

  “I hope I’ll get to meet him one day.”

  “Me too,” he whispered, and he turned off his phone, slipping it back into his pocket, returning to the risotto.

  I went over to the bottles again, deciding the one I had brought was the best option based on what I thought he was making. “Wine?”

  When he glanced at me from the stove, I didn’t hold my breath.

  I just wasn’t able to breathe.

  “Please.”

  It was only one word.

  But I felt it everywhere.

  “Wow.” I set down my fork, literally unable to put another bite in my mouth. “That was amazing.”

  “You look surprised.” He was smiling, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

  I’d opted for us to sit at a high-top table on the corner of his balcony instead of the dining room he had originally chosen for us. Once he’d turned on the heat lamp, neither of us could feel the wind outside. The setup couldn’t be more spectacular. And I appreciated that he wasn’t sitting far away, so I could take in even the smallest details despite already knowing them so well.

  “I am, admittedly,” I told him, looking down at my plate where there was a tiny amount of food left. “Just because you eat well and enjoy good cuisine doesn’t mean you know your way around a kitchen.” I giggled as I thought about Ally’s ability to burn almost everything. “But you do, and this dinner was positively excellent.”

  He’d paired the portobello risotto with seared scallops and roasted eggplant and green beans. I’d eaten almost the entire serving he’d plated. The fact that I’d gotten so much down made me incredibly happy.

  But it went far deeper than that because it was a meal Jared had cooked just for me.

  Maybe the walls inside his condo were missing pictures of him and his friends, the surfaces lacking personal artifacts that would show me a side I hadn’t seen yet. But what he’d made in his kitchen was something I wouldn’t be able to feel from a photograph, and that meant more to me than anything.

  “Thank you.” He lifted his glass of wine and brought it to his mouth.

  “It’s beautiful here.” I glanced across the balcony where there were several couches and a TV. “Is this your only home, or do you have others?”

  We’d never discussed money. I’d always just assumed he was successful, but that hadn’t been confirmed until today.

  I loved that.

  Humbleness was so rare nowadays.

  “I have a house in Aspen.”

  I took a drink of my wine. “I’ve never skied out west.”

  “No?”

  I shook my head. “Just all over New England.” When his smile started to grow and didn’t fall, I added, “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to say, and my answer is still no.”

  He bit his lip. “I tried.”

  Even though he was now glancing toward the night sky, I continued to look at him, trying to read his expression, understanding the mystery behind those dark eyes.

  “I have to ask you a question.” I waited for him to look at me again before I said, “Your company obviously does extremely well, and I have to assume a business of your size has a jet.”

  His face didn’t change. His gaze didn’t even intensify.

  “I guess what I’m asking is, why weren’t you on your own plane that day?”

  I hadn’t realized the question would be so hard. That the answer might change everything, and I didn’t like the thought of it at all.

  Still clutching his wine, he turned the stem in his hand, staring at the burgundy waves before looking back at me. “The company jet wasn’t available.” He put the drink down, his hand going to my thigh, his thumb brushing across the center of it. “First-class was sold out, and seat 14B was the only one left with extra leg room.”

  I put my hand on top of his, locking my fingers in place. “I’m so grateful for that.”

  Jared

  My eyes flicked open just like they had in college when I heard someone’s hand touch my doorknob. The same way they had at my first few apartments before I could afford a building like the one I lived in now. The second someone was in my space, an alarm went off in my head.

  It was what made me perfect for my job.

  What surprised me tonight was that I had fallen asleep. I ha
dn’t thought that would happen while Billie was here. I never brought women to my home. But when we had finally gotten in my bed, after a long dinner and more wine by the fireplace and sex on the floor in front of it, I had been so tired.

  Billie Paige made me sleep.

  A concept that was about as fucked as having her here.

  Except she wasn’t exactly here—at least, not in my bed. I knew that the minute I was awake without having to reach across the mattress. Her absence was one of the reasons I had woken in the first place.

  I sat up a few inches and adjusted the pillow, seeing the door to the bathroom was open and the light was off. She wasn’t in here, so I reached for the tablet on the nightstand. I immediately spotted her on the feed. She had put on the button-down I’d been wearing earlier and was walking down the hallway, away from my bedroom. Her feet were bare, her long, dark hair bouncing over the back of the light-blue shirt.

  When she reached the first doorway, she paused. It was my home office, and she flipped on the light. She didn’t move from the entryway; she just leaned her shoulder into the frame and looked inside. There was a diploma on the wall along with several achievements and framed articles on Morgan Security. In the center was a desk with multiple drawers, holding papers I couldn’t let her read.

  After a few seconds, still frozen in the same spot, she turned off the light and kept moving down the hall.

  The desk was locked. I wasn’t an amateur. But the fact that she hadn’t even gone inside my office became one of the sexiest things about her.

  As she went to the kitchen, I slid out of bed and put on a pair of boxer briefs, following the sound of her. When I arrived, she was standing in front of the open fridge, weight shifting between both feet.

  “Let me help,” I said as I got closer, knowing she still hadn’t heard me. She didn’t have a chance to turn around before I had an arm wrapped around her navel, my face into her neck. “Mmm, you smell good.”

  The buttercream was so strong on her collarbone, and that was what I was craving. I quickly turned her around, my hands going to her ass, and I lifted her onto the island. Leaving her there for just a second, I grabbed the dessert and brought it over to her. I cut the string that held it together and lifted the flaps of the box.