With one last look between Jameson and me, he turns and storms off toward the bar. I turn my attention to Jameson Miles, the infuriating prick, and I pull out of his arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you think you’re fucking doing?” he growls.
“Don’t you swear at me.”
“You came here to pick up a man?”
I put my hands on my hips in outrage. “I came here to dance. What are you doing here?”
“I’m here with my brothers.”
“So go back to your brothers and ruin their fun,” I huff. I go to turn, and he grabs my arms and pulls me to the side of the dance floor and pushes me up against the wall.
His body covers mine, and I can feel his hard erection up against my stomach. We stare at each other, and instantly the air between us changes.
“Don’t,” I whisper up at him.
“Don’t what?”
“Hypnotize me with that magical dick.”
He gives me a cheeky wink. “You’ve got that the wrong way around, baby. I’m the only one who’s hypnotized around here,” he whispers as he leans down toward me. His tongue slowly slides through my lips. He kisses me again, with just the right amount of suction, and my knees begin to buckle beneath me.
Dear God . . . the man can kiss.
“Jameson,” I breathe against him. “We shouldn’t.” His hands roam up and down my body, and God, he feels so good.
“Don’t fight me on this,” he murmurs as he grinds me up against the wall with his hips.
“I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. Why would you deny your body what it so desperately needs from me?”
Oh God, he’s so right. My body does need his body . . . hard. So fucking hard.
Our kiss turns desperate, and my hands go to his hair. I know this is crazy, but I want him . . . all of him, and not just his body.
For a long time, we kiss like we’re the only two people left on earth. Hidden up against the wall, his body grinding on mine. Two bodies chasing their own pleasure in the darkness.
“I need you,” he murmurs against my lips.
I pant as his open mouth drops to my neck. God . . . the way he touches me is just so . . . “Jameson.”
“Now.” He pins me to the wall, and I feel his cock pulse.
Jesus, he’s close. He does need me.
“My place,” he pants against my lips.
“My place,” I fire back.
“No, my place,” he demands.
I pull back to look at his face. “It’s my place or nothing. Take it or leave it.”
He clenches his jaw; it’s obvious he hates losing a fight . . . any fight. “Fine.” He grabs my hand. “This way.”
“No.” I pull my hand out of his grip. “I don’t want anyone to see us.”
He frowns in question.
“You’re my boss,” I remind him. “I’m here with work friends.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Go and say goodbye, and I’ll wait for you downstairs. You have two minutes before I come up and drag you out.” He gives me a long, lingering kiss, and I turn, and he swats me on the behind.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I walk over to my friends.
He’s here. I’m going with him. It’s on.
Excitement fills me, and I try to act casual.
“Hey, where’s the god?” Renee asks.
“Oh.” I frown. “He was a dick,” I lie.
Ava rolls her eyes. “Typical. Men who look that good can’t be blessed with brains too.”
I smirk. I know someone who was blessed with both, but I’ll just keep that under my hat. I look over and see Jameson walking toward the elevator, and he gives me the hurry-up look. I smile; the pull to him is strong.
“Guys, I’m going to go.”
“What?” Their faces fall. “Why? The night is young.”
“I know. I’ve had such a great time, but my feet are killing me. These stupid new shoes are hell on earth. Next weekend I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’ll just jump in a cab downstairs.”
“Okay.” They roll their eyes and kiss me on the cheek.
“Text me when you get home,” Ava says.
“I will.” I smile, grateful that they aren’t bothered at all. “Thanks for asking me to come.”
Two guys walk up to us, and the girls both smile broadly. I take that as my out. “See you,” I call as I walk toward the elevator.
“Bye,” they call.
I jump in the elevator. “Where to?” the attendant asks.
“Ground floor.” He pushes the button, and we make our descent. My heart is hammering in my chest. Jameson Miles makes me nervous as all hell. I can’t remember when a man made me this excited to get him alone.
Act cool . . . just act cool.
The elevator doors open, and I walk out and look around. Where is he?
I continue through the foyer and peer out to the busy street; I can’t see him. What the hell? Did he leave without me?
“Lose something?” a deep voice asks from behind me.
I turn to see Jameson leaning up against the wall, and my heart somersaults in my chest. I walk over, and he takes me in his arms. “I did, actually.” I smile up at him.
We kiss softly, and it’s different from how we normally kiss; it’s tender and sweet, as if he’s been waiting to get me alone too.
“Let’s go home,” he whispers.
I smile. That sounds so good. “Okay.” We walk out the front, and he hails a cab. Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of my apartment.
“Thank you,” I say as I climb out. I turn and hand Jameson twenty dollars, and he shakes his head as if annoyed.
“I’ve got it,” he says.
He climbs out, and we walk through the foyer, hand in hand, as he remains silent.
“Where are the doormen?” he asks as he looks around.
“There are no doormen.”
“There’s no security in this building?” He frowns in surprise.
“There’s security.” I point to the intercom on the wall. “Nobody can get up without being let in.”
He frowns as he assesses it. “Any fucker could walk in here.”
“You are said fucker tonight.” I smirk.
He chuckles as he wraps his arms around me. “That I am.”
We ride to my floor and walk down the corridor; my heart is beating so fast. This is different from the other times we’ve been together. Normally we’re so blinded with arousal that we don’t even remember walking through the front door. I open the door and lead him into my apartment, and I hold my breath as his eyes scan the space.
My apartment is tiny—it would literally fit into his bedroom.
“It’s nice,” he says.
I giggle. “You’re a terrible liar.”
He chuckles and takes me into his arms. “Anywhere with you is good.”
Our eyes lock, and something changes between us. The anger and animosity between us has been replaced with tenderness.
The man I met in Boston is here.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. “We could get some Uber Eats. Caramel cheesecake.”
“What the fuck? You don’t actually get Uber Eats, do you?” he asks, horrified.