Maybe the obvious is enough.
Cruz claps me on the shoulder. “What did you think? That I was going to report you to headquarters?” He gestures to the door. “He’s the boss. Just make him happy, because when he’s happy, we’re all happy. Okay? That’s literally all that matters. Can you do that?”
I don’t kiss and tell. I don’t screw and tell. So I’m not going to tell him how happy I make the boss.
All I do is give him one syllable. “Yes.”
Cruz continues with a warning. “Also, don’t fuck up.”
“I won’t,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure what I’ve agreed to. What I’m not supposed to mess up. But I’ve made it through this awkward moment, and I’m ready to return to the scene of the crime.
Cruz holds up a finger. “Wait. I have one request.”
“Name it,” I say, and really, at this point, I would do just about anything for him.
His lips curve up into a grin, wry and cheeky. “Do you think you could order one of those pizzas for me? Like, with the donuts?”
Slowly, I raise my middle finger.
He laughs. “Seriously, man. I’m starving, and I didn’t get any dinner. Could you just have him order something for me and send it right here?”
“What do you want?”
“I like pizza with sausage and pepperoni.”
I smirk. “Aw, that’s cute. I didn’t know you played on my team.”
“Just the pizza, man. Just the pizza.”
I head inside to order the man the pizza he deserves.
23
Stone
My skin prickles, and my hands are clammy.
I haven’t felt this way since I’ve been around my father. Since he berated me as a teen. Since he said some serious shit to me before I left for college.
Any idea how hard it is to make a living with a guitar? Wait. Let me ask again. Any idea how foolish it is to think you’ll be the one in a million who makes a living with it? Are you a fool? Did I raise a fool?
I cringe, his voice raw and harsh in my ear, like he’s saying it now.
Because I feel like a fool right this second, wanting all this stuff I can’t have.
Wanting my bodyguard.
I pace through my hotel room, wishing I knew what the hell was going on out there with Cruz and Jackson.
I have no clue though.
And also . . . I’m still in the buff.
I head to the closet, grab a pair of lounge pants, and pull them on. There. Now I don’t feel so damn vulnerable. But the clothes aren’t doing anything to jimmy the truckload of nerves parked on my chest.
Why the hell am I this twisted up?
What’s the worst that can happen? Jackson comes back in and says, “Game over”?
That was always in the cards.
Trouble is, my chest seizes at that horrid thought.
I set my hand on my sternum, rubbing it, like I can ease away this ball of nerves.
Because, hell, I’ve never felt anything like this, the way I ache at the possibility that we might not touch again. I’ve never felt anything like the way he touches me. The way he talks to me before, during, and after sex is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Pretty sure he’s the only person I’ve slept with who doesn’t make me feel like he or she is sleeping with a rock star. He’s the only person who makes me feel like I’m simply a man.
Not a prize. Not a notch on the “I banged a rocker” belt. He makes me feel like . . . me.
I swallow roughly. I need to get my act together, slow down these crazy thoughts. I head to the bar, pour some whiskey, and knock back half a glass, needing the burn.
I drum my fingers on the bar.
What is taking so long?
Fine, it’s only been a few minutes. Still. I want my man.
I mean, I want Jackson.
The door snicks open. I rub my thumb and forefinger together, hoping it went well.
Jackson strides in and shuts the door, his gaze roving over me. A grin curves his lips, and just like that, relief flows through me.
“Are you staying the night with me?” I ask.
He arches a playful brow. “It’s going to cost you a pizza. That’s all the man wants.”
“Some men are easy like that, evidently.” I head to the couch and flop down on it like I’ve tossed the weight of the world off my shoulders. And I have.
Because I get this man for the rest of the night. Maybe for longer. Maybe a week.
That’s what I want.
The knot of tension skips off into the ether. Good riddance.
Jackson joins me on the couch. As I grab the room service menu, I drape an arm around his shoulders. “This place has the best pizza I’ve had in ages.”
He stares quizzically at my arm around him.
I give him a what’s the big deal look. “What? I can’t put my arm around you while we call room service?”
He rolls his eyes. “Did I say it bothered me?”
“No. But you’re giving me a look like it bothers you.”
“It’s literally the first time you’ve put your arm around my shoulder. I was just noticing it. Because that’s what I do. I notice things.”
I tilt my head. “And what do you notice about it?”
He pats my hand on his shoulder. “That I like it. Okay? I like your arm around me.”
And my damn heart, it does some kind of jumping jack in my chest.
I smile happily as I survey the pizza choices. “All right, let’s get the man a large pie. Think he wants mozzarella—”
Jackson’s fingers dig into my side, and the bastard tickles me.
Thump.
The room service menu falls to the floor.
“Stop, stop!” I beg, laughing as I fall back against the cushions, trying to escape.
He chuckles as he tickles me more, and I fight like hell to wriggle away from him. Motherfucker is strong, though, and I can barely escape his tickling hand. “You dickhead. You were waiting for the moment to do that,” I say when he relents.
He grins, his eyes wicked. “I was indeed, and it worked.”
“I hope it was worth it.”
“Absolutely worth it.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but I can’t stay mad. I’m having a blast.
We place the order for Cruz, and when I hang up the phone, Jackson looks down at my clothes. “You got dressed.”
I shrug. “I put on lounge pants. Did you want me naked?”
“Not gonna lie. I really like the way you look naked. But”—he tugs at the waistband of my lounge pants—“I like the way you look in these too. Casual sexy.”
“We’re having a pajama party, so I had to put on my pj’s,” I say with a wink.
“Do you want me to put mine on? I sleep naked.”
I thrust both arms in the air. “Commando, for the win.”
His expression turns serious. “So, I’m spending the night? For real?”
“Um, yes. That’s what the whole pizza negotiation was about. Don’t back out now.”
He smiles softly. “I won’t. I’m just kind of amazed.”
My chest squeezes. “Me too. And I want you to stay the night, J. And not because I’m horny for you, though I absolutely am.”