Jessie’s body heats and then melts under my ministrations. And I fall…deeper. Into this woman, and the current entanglement that I’m pretty sure, ten out of ten, is about to blow my shit to smithereens.
But in the words of much better men, tomorrow will have to take care of itself.
Chapter 24
Daniel
I'm drinking a cup of green tea, two sugars with a splash of two percent milk, when she creeps toward my front door like it’s a goddamn prison break.
She’s looking around a little frantically and has yet to peg my presence.
“Grand rising, lady.” I tip my cup in her direction and purposefully relax against the counter. Jessie’s eyes squeeze shut with consternation and she whips around startled, freezing like she’s it in a game of freeze tag.
“Oh, hey.” She plasters a phony smile on her face and I’m not sure if I should laugh or be offended or just go with the fucking flow and let her bounce. I don’t typically do morning-after maneuvers. So, I’m not quite sure what to make of our current situation.
Her response is almost comical in its severity. Almost. And I’m not that much better. Last night felt like the beginning of something, like our nexus event. I felt it from the moment I saw her sitting at the bar last night, and it only intensified when I got her in my bed.
That kind of bond with a woman is completely foreign, and exciting, and because I’m an honest man unafraid of my emotions, I can admit it’s terrifying, and that’s on period.
Pursuing anything with Jessie is a risk. I know that. It quite possibly could be one of the foolhardiest actions I’ve ever taken, and I’ve done some crazy shit. That said, I’m hooked. Have been since that first bump-and-grind on my buddy’s sofa, and I need her to hop on this crazy train with me.
“You weren’t thinking about leaving without saying goodbye, were you?”
I get wide-eyed blinks before she mumbles, “Absolutely not. Why would you think that?”
“The mad dash for the door was a little bit of a hint.”
“I was just…just looking for…”
“Your phone, right?” I laugh. “Maybe a toothbrush?”
“I used yours.” Her teeth scrape against her bottom lip as her lips pull into a self-conscious smile.
“Low-key, that’s kinda gross.”
“Not as nasty as going out into the world with stink breath,” she counters.
“Indeed.” I slurp the hot liquid and tip my head at her over the rim of my cup.
The easy banter fades and the tension that lies in the recesses of our connection goes snap, crackle, pop.
It’s evident in the nervous hands that run down her wrinkled suit, and over the fuck-me hair I did a damn good job cultivating. I recognize it in the increased pattern of her breaths and the flush spreading across the gold-toned skin visible between the lapels of her jacket.
“I love the sight of you in the sunlight,” I divulge.
That secretive smile once again pulls at her lips, and she glances at the door briefly before walking toward me. The wide countertop stands as a sentry between us, creating just enough distance to keep us moderately comfortable.
“Can I have a cup of coffee?” she asks, motioning at my discarded glass.
I grab a cup off the mug tree, lifting it with a shrug. “I’m actually a tea man but I might have a K-Cup somewhere.”
“Really?” Inky eyebrows dip into a frown as her eyes needlessly search the counter space behind me.
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. It’s fine. Tea is fine.” Her tone says tea isn’t fine, but I go through the motions anyway. Filling the cup with steaming water, steeping two bags, and leaving just enough room for sugar and milk before I hand it over.
She blows to cool the drink before taking a tentative sip. “That’s…good.”
“Why so surprised? I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” I move around the edge of the marble surface and close some of the distance between us.
An appreciative moan escapes at her next taste and it hits somewhere between longing and my shaft.
“I’ve never had savory tea. This is really good.”
I step closer, bracketing my arms in a cage on either side of her. My hand curves around the back of her neck and I place a kiss at the base of her throat.
“You smell like me.” I sprinkle kisses down the taut skin over her breastbone.
“I took a shower,” she answers on an exhale. “Is that cool?”
“Totally,” I whisper, unsnapping the buttons at her belly, parting the fabric to palm her full teardrop-shaped breast. “Shower, toothbrush, bedroom, me…it’s all yours, lady.”
“Is that right?” She smirks, confident and sexy, in a way I’ve only seen in fleeting moments, and I love that I can bring that out.
“Absolutely.” I lick the pad of my thumb and brush it across her nipple until it’s tight and drawn.
The sharp inhale and sudden arch of her spine pushes her flesh into my palm, letting me know I’m doing it right.
I back up, running needy hands up her breasts and over her shoulders, pushing the jacket from her body.
“Since the mad dash appears to be momentarily thwarted,” I say, pulling down her zipper, “what do you say we go back to bed?”
Her heavy-lidded eyes finds mine, and in their depths the conflict that sent her scrambling for the door is waging a battle with the release her body is craving.
To help swing the pendulum definitively in my direction I slip my hand inside her pants. It’s all wet pussy and zero panties and deep inhales. My fingers survey her wet folds in slow, teasing strokes.
“Dammit,” she mumbles, her thighs opening wider to let me inside. “I was supposed to be halfway home by now.”
“Bullshit. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be…right here.” I push first one finger and then another inside her. “Why do you always make me catch you?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She pants, riding my hand with sure, measured strokes.
“Nah.” I shake my head. “Why don’t you fill me in?”
Liquid warmth coats my hand, and her tight sheath gets even tighter with the initial pulses of a pending orgasm.
“With you I always want to be caught.”
Tucked into my side under a thin sheet, Jessie flips through the new arrivals section on Netflix.
“This one looks like it might me good,” she says, glancing at me through dark, spiky lashes.
“You look way better.” It sounds corny and smarmy, but I can’t help myself. I’m being serious, dead-ass.
She bites back a satisfied smile and I’m so focused on her face that I see the exact second satisfaction morphs into doubt.
“Thank you.” She sits up straighter against the headboard, adjusting the sheet to better cover all the good parts. The new position is a little defensive and a lot closed off, and I’m immediately irritated because I thought we’d already moved past this phase.
After last night, and the better part of this morning, I’m not going back to square one.
“Don’t do that, Jessie J.” I tip forward to peer into her face. “Don’t play me.”
“I’m not, Daniel, but…” She sighs softly, looking fixedly at the colorful images flitting across the TV. “What are we even doing here?”
“By here do you mean my bed, or here as in the middle school check yes, no, or maybe boxes?”
She chuckles and her eyes briefly dart to mine before boomeranging back to the screen. “I don’t know.” She shrugs self-consciously. “Both maybe.”
I take the remote from her hand and press the off button.
“Let me see if I can answer that for you.” I shift closer, palming the back of her neck to press a quick kiss to her lips. “I think you’re in my bed because I’m the best, right?”
I lower my gaze purposefully and her eyes follow, landing on my growing cock. “You said it, lady.”
“I’m serious, Daniel. We don’t make sense, and the minute anyone finds out—”
“That’s just noise,” I cut in. “I’m grown. You’re grown. If we want to swing from the chandelier in a blonde wig like fucking Sia, that’s our business. You want to know which box I’d check?” Jessie gives a barely perceptible nod. Encouraged, I palm her cheek and drop a quick kiss against her mouth. “It’s hell yes,” I whisper against her lips.
“You seriously want to know why you’re in my bed?” This time she doesn’t answer but she scoots closer, and I take it as encouragement. “I can’t get enough of you and if I’m reading it right, you can’t get enough of me either. We both want this.” I pepper kisses along her jaw and loosen the sheet from around her body. “Let’s try. What do we have to lose?”
“But Jake and Sin…” she offers weakly, shutting her eyes.
“Can both fuck off,” I answer forcefully, placing gentle kisses on her eyelids. “I just want to see where this goes. Don’t you? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Don’t answer that. Good vibes only.
She opens her eyes, searching the depths of mine for a long, drawn-out second. Soft hands grip my shoulders, pulling me closer as she presses her forehead against mine. “Okay. Let’s see where it goes.”
“Right now, I’m gonna go down.” I toss the sheet from her body and wedge myself in between her legs.
“And then what?” She giggles, sweet and free.
“Then we clean up.” I kiss a path down her belly. “Put on some clothes. Head out and do a first date kind of thing.”
She crunches up, looking at me down the planes of her body. “Then we better get to it.”
“Indeed, Jessie. Indeed.”
Chapter 25
Jessica
Daniel: What’s shakin’, pretty lady?
I smile as I read the words. It’s been the same greeting every morning for the last month and it never gets old. Contrary to his fuckboy reputation, Daniel is surprisingly good at the boyfriend thing. He cooks breakfast, and massages my feet, and fucks like a goddamn Mack Truck, rugged and unstoppable.
Jessica: Just parked at the hotel.
Daniel: Hotel? As in a large building with several rooms and even more beds, commonly used for inconspicuous shags?
Daniel: Tell me this ain’t some TLC type of shit…
Jessica: Como say what the hell are you talking about?
Daniel: Creep. An expression that refers to infidelity. Also, a term memorialized in one of the biggest songs by THE best girl group ever.
Jessica: Yes. I know TLC. And no, I’m not “creepin’.”
Daniel: Whew…I was nervous. Like about to get in the truck and track that ass down level of concerned.
Jessica: And you think it’s that easy to find me?
Daniel: I have my ways. Duh Duh Duhh…
Jessica: Shaking in my boots over here.
Daniel: I don’t want you shaking in fear, baby. I prefer it when you’re trembling and panting and begging like “D, please, melt these sugar walls.”
Jessica: Sugar walls? I’d never.
Daniel: Lies, lady. It happened last night and again this morning. I could prolly make it happen via FaceTime right now if you have a couple of spare minutes.
Jessica: That sounds promising, but time is limited at the moment.
Daniel: Rain check???
Jessica: Certainly.
Daniel: Real talk, care to expound on what it is that you’re doing?
Jessica: Meeting with Daddy.
I read his play easily. The lighthearted banter is to help calm my nerves. Daniel knows exactly what I’m doing, because he’s good like that and he helped me prep for this interview.
Daniel: Is the queen about to ascend the throne? Full-on Olivia Pope smackdown?
Jessica: Something like that.
Daniel: The future is female. Fuck some shit up, babe! #girlpower
Jessica: I can so totally do this.
Daniel: Yeah, you can. Have I told you CEOs make me hawt?
Jessica: Everything makes you hot.
Daniel: Only when it comes to you.
Daniel: Awake.
Daniel: Or breathing.
Daniel: Or naked. I REALLY like it when you’re naked.
Jessica: Have I ever told you that you’re ridiculous? Don’t answer that. I gotta go. Meeting starts in fifteen.
Daniel: Be great. See you tonight at my parents’ house?
I stare at the last message way longer than I should and not nearly long enough. It’s been four weeks since we agreed to see where this goes. I’m in deep like and feral lust with the man, but meeting his family feels a little premature.
Jessica: Six o’clock?
Daniel: On the dot.
Jessica: See you then.
An instant later my phone goes off. “Big Brother” by Kanye West fills the car’s interior and a childhood image of Jake and me in the South, at our grandparents’ lake house, appears on the phone screen.
Thank you, God, for small miracles because I need my big brother.
I want this job, like really want it, and not because I’m the boss’s daughter but because I’m the best person. And possibly because yesterday was my last day at the hospital. I interned at the family casino in both high school and college. My dad even offered me the junior CFO position after I graduated. I declined at the time but after a year of working in the real world, I’ve learned the merits of living in an insulated bubble.
“Surprise, surprise,” I say, pulling down the visor to double-check my reflection in the mirror.
“I thought you might want a few tips and tricks from someone who actually has the title. But if you don’t need me, I can easily get back to work.”
“No so fast.” It comes out in a rush of nerves. “Daddy insisted on a panel interview with the executive team.”
“That’s not out of the ordinary, Jess. The executive team should have input on an untried newbie walking in fresh off the street.”
“I’m not fresh off the street. I’m a Johnson. Just as much as you or Daddy.”
The raucous sound of music and the whir of spinning wheels hum in the background on Jake’s end. I can practically see the casino floor and his irritated gait as he walks around flamboyantly dressed tourist. “Don’t walk in there entitled, Jess. Remember the E-team doesn’t owe you. If anything, because of your last name—our family—the bar will be impossibly high.”
“Great. Exactly what I need to hear,” I snap into the line, climbing out of the car.
Nervous butterflies start to flutter in my stomach and throat as I trek toward the conference room. “Did you call just to tell me how royally I’d fail or was there some advice you wanted to offer?”
“Don’t stand on family history. If they bring it up, redirect. Since you don’t have a lot of experience, stand firm on your education, and how you plan to take theoretical knowledge and apply it practically. Since we were kids, you ramble when you get nervous. Don’t. You’re smart and capable. I believe in you, and Pop does too. For that reason alone, he’ll go hard, ask all the tough questions, try to trip you up. Take time to think about your answers. Answer each question in its entirety. Billions of dollars funnel through the finance department, explain why they should trust you with the money. And you’re a shoo-in, kid.”
I let the weight of my brother’s words sink in. Use them to calm the crazy tumbling through my head. “Right. I got this?”
“Do you?” He chuckles. “That declaration sounded like w-e-a-k sauce.”
“Go to hell
, Jake,” I huff, power walking through the casino toward the executive floor.
“Oh. There she is. Kitty got claws, huh?”
Finally at my destination, I press the call button for the elevator. Metallic doors immediately open like it was waiting for me, and maybe it was. Hurriedly I step inside, hit the backlit plastic button for the twenty-eighth floor, immediately followed by the close door button.
“Damn right, I do.” Just saying the words aloud feels like the truth. As the elevator ascends, the stampede in my chest slows to more of a jaunt, and that nauseous, nervous feeling roiling in my belly diminishes. I glance up at the red numbers scrolling by. “Gotta go. And, brother—”
“What’s that, sister?”
“Thank you.”
“Any time. Knock ’em dead, kid.” He doesn’t say goodbye. The call disconnects and I silence the phone before tucking it into my purse. The last thing I need during an interview, with my father of all people, is to have the ringer go off.
The number showing in the panel above the door is twenty-four. Four more floors to my destiny. I pull down the sleeves of my Alexander McQueen double-breasted suit and square my shoulders.
Working with money is in my DNA. I got this.
The bell dings, opening at the twenty-eighth floor. With a deep breath I exit directly in front of the reception desk. The stern brunette is a staple in my father’s office. As a kid, every visit to Daddy’s office was punctuated with trips to the employee dining room for soft-serve ice cream. Now? I might as well be a stranger.
“Good morning, Ms. Dee.” I do my damnedest to scrounge a smile. “I have a ten o’clock interview with—”
“I’m aware, Ms. Johnson,” her clipped voice cuts in. “The executive team is waiting for you in conference room A.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.” I tap the corner of the polished marble desk and turn toward the hallway that leads to the smallest conference room on the floor.
“Jessica…” I glance back over my shoulder to the older woman comfortably nestled behind the desk. “Good luck.” She winks.
And this time my smile is genuine. “Thanks.”
Exquisitely Yours: A Sin City Tale Page 18
