by Roxy Sloane
Heat floods through me. I quickly look away. “Oh. OK.”
Relief comes fast. Relief and . . . regret? I take a deep breath, and smell . . . “Is that bacon?”
Jase winks. “Why don’t you come and see for yourself?”
He turns and strolls out of the bedroom, disappearing into the apartment. I pause, torn. I know I should get out of here and put as much distance as possible between me and this shirtless, sexy man, but my stomach lets out a rumble.
Hunger wins.
I belt the robe tighter and pad barefoot into the hallway. It’s a modern, sleek apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows. My head is still pounding, but I’m beginning to feel human again as I follow the smell of frying bacon to an open-plan kitchen, full of the latest steel appliances.
Jase is standing over the range with a skillet in his hand. Now I’m practically drooling—from the sight of him, and that delicious smell. He sets out a couple of plates at the table, then slides the food onto them.
“A good old-fashioned fry-up,” he says, taking a seat. “Best hangover cure around.”
“Wow, it looks amazing.” Bacon, eggs, sausage . . . I dig in, ravenous. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days, and even though my stomach is churning, just a couple of mouthfuls settles it again. There’s a mug of coffee too, and I take a grateful gulp.
“Thank you,” I tell him, sincere. “For the breakfast, and for . . . you know.”
“Not ravishing you?” Jase has a twinkle in his eye.
I laugh. “I really appreciate it. I just don’t understand, I never get this drunk.” I frown. Everything is still a blur. “How did I meet you? When did we wind up here?”
“You really don’t remember?” Jase looks concerned.
“No. Just . . . flashes of stuff.”
“Somebody spiked your drink,” he says matter-of-factly. “But nothing happened. I found you heading home, and brought you here to sleep it off.”
I feel a chill. “Who would do something like that?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.” Jase’s gaze is direct. “Who would want you staggering around, vulnerable and making bad decisions?”
“Nobody,” I gasp. “You really think someone did this to me on purpose? That’s . . . terrible.”
Jase softens. “Maybe it was just some bloke at the bar, figured he would make you an easy target.”
“That’s no better.” I shiver. “If you hadn’t been there . . .”
It dawns on me for the first time how lucky I’ve been. I was out there, drugged and totally helpless, and instead of taking advantage, Jase kept me safe. I look at him again and see the kindness I glimpsed before.
There’s more to this man than I realized.
I finish up my food. “I should go,” I say, already feeling guilty. Sure, nothing happened—but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to. “Are my clothes . . . ?”
“On the chair in the bedroom,” Jase says. I head back down the hall and quickly change, but I can’t resist taking a closer look around the room. It’s messy, with files stacked in a corner and dirty laundry in a hamper by the door, but I would be surprised if someone like Jase took the time to keep things tidy.
He’s a man who has better things to do.
Things involving the massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room, with fresh navy sheets and a mattress I could happily sink into for another ten hours.
Especially if he was in bed with you.
I find a couple of framed photographs on the dresser: Jase with some buddies in army uniforms, and one of an older couple I think must be his parents. I peek in the drawers, and find messy heaps of clean laundry, nothing like the neat closet in Max’s place. He has a housekeeper come twice a week, groceries delivered and all his laundry sent out. Sometimes when I visit, I feel like I’m walking into a magazine shoot, leaving fingerprints smudged on all the polished glass.
I like it here better.
I check another drawer, curious, and find a pair of handcuffs nestled in a pile of socks. My stomach curls. I gingerly lift them out. They’re for real: hard metal, cool to the touch, not like those novelty ones Amanda has hanging on her door as a joke. I trace the steel, wondering what he does with the lucky women he brings back here . . .
“Want to give them a try?”
Jase’s voice comes, and I spin around. He’s watching from the doorway, amused. I look down to the handcuffs in my hand and the open dresser drawer.
Busted.
“I was just . . .” I gesture vaguely, mortified.
Jase chuckles. “That’s alright, love.” He saunters over and takes them from me. He’s pulled on a T-shirt, something worn and black that pours over his muscles. “You ever used these before?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’ve never been in trouble with the police.”
He smirks. “That’s not the kind of trouble I’m talking about.”
Jase gently presses them over my wrists, and I’m surprised to find the metal easily swing through. “I thought they would feel different,” I say. “But these are easy to—”
There’s a click, and suddenly I realize he’s locked them tight.
“See?” Jase’s voice is low and throaty. “Now I’ve got total control.”
He lifts the chain between them—and my hands follow, until my arms are lifted up over my head. I feel exposed, my breasts jutting out and my heart beating fast.
Jase smiles down at me. “You really don’t remember last night, do you?”
I stare back at him, frozen. Then he touches one rough fingertip to my lips, and it all comes flooding back to me.
His thumb in my mouth. His cock pressing hard against me. My body aching for him, so wet I could have come on the spot with just one touch.
“Oh my God.” My voice comes out a strangled whisper.
Jase grins, triumphant. “That’s right, darlin’. I’m not so easy to forget.”
I gulp. Standing here, taut and aching, it’s like we’re back in the parking garage again. Except this time, I’m not tipsy and uninhibited. No, this moment is crystal clear. My brain is fully conscious of every breath he takes, watching me. The powerful, hungry look in his eyes.
I see it all. I feel it all.
And I want him, more than ever before.
“I . . . I really need to go.” I swallow a desperate breath, on the edge of doing something very, very bad. “I’m late for work.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“It is? Oh, then I’m late to meet Amanda. My friend, she works the farmer’s market, and I’m supposed to help out. She’s probably already texting me, I just haven’t seen my phone.”
I’m babbling, I know, but I can’t stop. All I know is that if I look at Jase, into those wicked blue eyes, I’m going to cross a line I can’t ever take back.
Jase lowers my wrists and produces a small key. He unlocks the cuffs, and I quickly slide my hands out and back away, my heart still pounding. “Thanks again,” I say quickly, grabbing my purse from the chair.
“It’s nothing.” Jase shrugs, and gives me a wink. “I’m always happy to take a beautiful woman to bed.”
There he is again, brushing it off like he’s just a player, and even though I should already be gone, I can’t let that one slip by again.
“That’s not true,” I tell him. “You’re a good man, Jase Banner. You like to pretend you’re just another asshole, but you’re not. You do the right thing, and that means something.”
Jase’s expression changes. He stares at me, almost stunned, and I wonder if anyone’s ever told him those words, or let him know that they see more than he lets them—more than maybe he even sees in himself. For a moment, he seems stripped down, like I can see past his cocky attitude, to that other man beneath.
Then he breaks out another one of those charming, flashy smiles, and the moment is gone.
“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart. I’m exactly who you think I am. And one of these days soon, I’m going to show you. Up close, per
sonal, and all night long.”
I smile and shake my head. “You know I’m getting married.”
“And you know that’s bullshit.”
Jase’s harsh tone makes me blink. He strides closer, like a predator circling his prey.
“You don’t love that Mainwaring asshole, and you sure as hell don’t want him. Not the way you want me,” Jase continues, his gaze locked on mine. “So when you’re done lying to yourself, give me a call. Because you damn well know the minute that ring is off your finger, I’m going to fuck you so deep, and so raw, you’ll come screaming for more.”
Oh God.
I don’t have an answer. I wish I could find some snappy comeback, but right now, my knees are weak and it’s taking everything I have not to throw myself on that king-sized bed and beg him to take me now.
Why does his dirty talk turn me on so much? What is this power he has over me?
Because you know he’ll deliver on every filthy promise.
“I can’t meet you again,” I manage to say, my voice strangled. “This, what you’re saying, it’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong is playing along like Max is your happily-ever-after.” Jase’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You know I’m right. Deep down, every instinct you have is screaming that he’s not the one for you.”
“And you are?” It’s meant to be a joke, but Jase gives me a curious smile.
“Maybe. But I’m definitely the one you want inside you right now. My cock, and your sweet cunt. That’s the only happy ending you need, so why are you fighting it so bad?”
I look at him, torn. “Because it’s not right. I made him a promise, and I don’t want to lie to you—or to Max. That’s why this can’t happen,” I say sadly. “I can’t ever see you again.”
Jase just smiles. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
But as I turn and walk away, I know I’m making the right choice—the safe choice. Max is my fresh start, the Prince Charming I need to begin my life all over again.
I picked crazy lust once, and it shattered my world into a thousand pieces. I know it’s dangerous to want someone this much, and a moment of pleasure could never be worth the pain.
14.
CHLOE
I spend the next week avoiding Max’s calls—and Jase’s flirty messages, too. My head is jumbled in a mess, and I need some space to figure it out.
I don’t understand: how did my life get so complicated?
It should be simple. I have Max’s ring on my finger, and until a couple of weeks ago, I was head over heels for him, excited to start our new life together. Then Jase Banner walks in the door, and suddenly I can’t trust myself anymore.
Except . . .
That’s not entirely true, a small voice reminds me. I had doubts about how fast Max was moving before Jase ever showed up. This whirlwind romance has been thrilling, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I’ve known it’s off-kilter, like I’m hurtling on a rollercoaster out of control, and I know that sometime soon, I’m heading for the drop.
So is this thing with Jase just cold feet, or a solid sign that I shouldn’t be getting married? Every time I think I have the answer figured out, I second-guess myself again. So instead of driving myself crazy, I focus on work instead: booking every spare minute with viewings and new clients until even Marcie is impressed.
“Another contract exchanged,” she notes when I deliver the paperwork on Friday morning. “My, you’re really stepping up.”
“Just following your example,” I say brightly.
She looks surprised—and pleased. “Well, since you’re on a roll, how about you take one of my listings off my hands? It’s a new penthouse by the river. Top of the line. We just secured the listing.”
“Sure, I mean, thank you for the chance.” I eagerly take the file. This is a first for me. Marcie usually gives me the crappy listings she can’t be bothered to sell, not a prime piece of real estate like this. “I won’t let you down!”
“Perhaps one of Max’s friends would like it,” she adds with a glint in her eye. “The Mainwarings have a big circle here in town. You could invite them all to the open house.”
My enthusiasm fades. “Oh. Yes, that’s a good idea.”
I wonder, is this the only reason she’s given me the listing: so I can sell it to all of Max’s high-flying friends?
As if she can read my mind, Marcie gives me a smile. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Chloe. This job is about connections, and it’s time you started using yours. This wedding is the best thing you could do for your career. If I were in your shoes, I’d be using every advantage I got!”
I head back to my desk, downcast. She’s right—and I hate the fact she’s right. Haven’t I seen it all the time? This industry is all about who you know. Agents lock up the best listings because they’re friends with the sellers, or their families have known the buyers for years. So why does it feel cheap and wrong to think about using the Mainwaring connections like that myself?
Because your relationship isn’t supposed to be a transaction. And you don’t want to owe Max anything.
I sigh. Even at work, I can’t escape my dilemma, but I throw myself into the penthouse listing, and soon I have an open house planned for next week, and all the flyers ready to go. I’m so caught up, I nearly miss my next appointment, and have to dash across town to meet the couple viewing a spacious family home in a suburban neighborhood across the river.
“Hi, sorry.” I greet them on the front steps, out of breath. “Let’s get you inside!”
I open the doors for them and collect myself, wracking my brain to remember the details from our call. They’re married, in their thirties, looking for a bigger place together. They didn’t mention kids, just that they wanted something grand and impressive. Well, this place is definitely that.
“Beautiful hardwood floors,” I point out as we tour the place. “And great entertaining space.”
I check for a reaction, and get nothing but bored stares. He’s tapping away on his cellphone, and she’s barely looked at him since the moment they walked in.
“How long have you been married?” I ask, trying to make small talk.
“Five years,” she replies. “Could we take the wall down and expand?”
“I don’t see why not.”
The woman looks around briskly. She reminds me of Sienna, in a way: elegant and perfectly put together. “You hear that, Charles? We should get our architect in.”
“Hmmm.” He’s still on his phone.
“Charles!” The woman rolls her eyes, then snaps her fingers. He finally looks up. “Honestly, you could put that damn thing down for two seconds.”
“I already said today wasn’t good for me to be away from work,” Charles responds through gritted teeth.
“And what day is good for you? Am I supposed to schedule everything with your damn secretary?”
Oh boy. I tactfully melt away into the next room, but their bickering follows me, angry and spiteful.
“You’re the one who wanted a bigger place to entertain your precious clients.”
“And you’ll be happy to spend my money to decorate.”
“Your money? I’m the one keeping our household running, and don’t you forget that.”
I let myself out into the backyard and close the door behind me. It’s sad. Five years of marriage, and they’re already at each other’s throats?
I shiver. I can’t imagine that kind of future, full of bitterness and sharp words. My parents may have had their rough patches, but they always supported each other in the end. That’s the kind of partnership I want, where I know we’ll be there for each other, no matter what.
Someone who can see me at my worst, and still love me unconditionally. Someone who understands that I’m not perfect, but doesn’t judge me all the same.
Is Max really that guy?
The door opens behind me. “We’re finished here,” the woman calls to me, and I hurry back inside.
“I can
find you something else,” I reassure them. “There are a few other place in the neighborhood—”
“No, this is fine,” she says, giving Charles a sharp look. “We’ll take it.”
“You will?” I can’t believe it.
He shrugs. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” His voice has a sarcastic edge, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
“Submit our offer,” the woman tells me. “This is our new home.”
I lock up and walk them out, then watch as they head to their shiny luxury car. They don’t touch, I realize—not once. The newlyweds I work with are always holding each other’s hands, or snuggled up together, their arms around each others’ waists. But these two don’t even brush each other in passing, they’re locked in two separate worlds. Bound together but not in harmony.
Is that the future I have in store with Max?
The question whirls in my mind. I should head back to the office, but instead, I get off the subway and just start walking, too caught up in confusion to see straight.
What are you doing, Chloe?
I swore I wouldn’t sabotage myself again. That I wanted a new beginning, and that Max was that fresh start. After everything that happened in Chicago, I should know not to follow desire at the expense of everything else I want in life.
Except . . .
Is this thing with Jase just about lust? It started that way, but it doesn’t feel so reckless anymore. I’ve seen a side to him that’s solid and kind, the way he protected me and kept me safe when I was at my most vulnerable. There’s so much I don’t know about him, but still, I feel this connection, no matter how hard I try to stay away.
And Max . . . I thought he could be my Prince Charming, and wipe away all the sins of my past. He swept me off my feet, but now I see things clearer, and I’m realizing, our relationship isn’t built on solid ground. I was so swept up in the romance and fancy gifts, I didn’t see the way he overrules me, all the little criticisms and ways he tries to nudge me into being more polished, more polite, more like the girls he grew up with, those effortless society hostesses.
I’m not that girl. I don’t want to be that girl. But if I stay with him, is that the future I have in store? Always trying to keep him and the rest of the Mainwarings happy, while secretly I feel like I’m cutting parts of myself away?
