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My spur of the moment idea was ripped away when he loosened the fabric enough that he was able to tug it down. I sighed. I guess I just needed to roll with how this was playing out and hope for the best.
The blanket pooled around my hips and I tried to ‘strike a pose’ by jutting my breasts out and straightening my spine. I wasn’t sure if the smile I flashed at him was coquettish or looked like I was in pain. Either way, I was in this to win it and couldn’t second guess myself for too long.
He sucked in a breath, and his pupils dilated as his eyes roamed the top half of my body. That was good, right? I preened under his gaze. The sheer navy blue babydoll top edged with fuschia lace and two ties in front left little to the imagination.
You are sexy, I whispered in my mind for encouragement. I knew what he was seeing since I’d probably stared at my reflection for a solid half hour last night. The fabric ineffectively covered my ample chest, leaving my skin and large dusky pink nipples on display. I wanted nothing more than for him to tug open the thin tie between each side and palm my breasts or suck on my nipples. I had a feeling that if he did either of those things there would be no going back. For either of us.
I didn’t miss the flare of desire in his eyes or how my body instinctively arched towards him. My skin pebbled with goosebumps in anticipation of his touch. “Jareth,” I whispered.
He sat there, still like a statue, only his eyes moved, continuing to take me in, and his breathing grew erratic. I fluttered my hand toward the tie between my boobs, my fingertips a whisper against the silky string, ready to do what he couldn’t.
Abruptly, he stood in one quick fluid motion. I was so startled I almost rolled onto my back on the floor. His hands clenched at his side as though he was forcing himself to not touch me.
“Hazel,” he said. Then a shaky arm reached out to me for just a second before he yanked his hand back and wiped all emotion from his face.
“It’s okay, Jareth.” My heart ached at his apparent dismissal yet I wanted to comfort him. Comfort the young man that lost his father, and the man that believed he was undeserving of love.
Who knows? Maybe it was time for me to let go of my obsession with him. How many opportunities could I give him to push me away before I had enough self-preservation to realize it didn’t matter what I did. Maybe I wasn’t going to ever change his mind.
Even as that strange defeated thought echoed in my brain. I recognized that the man who thought he had no morals, the man who worked slightly outside the legal line, who insisted over and over that he wasn’t good enough for me was ready to sacrifice his happiness for mine. In his twisted heart he thought that being with me would somehow taint my soul when I wanted him to see that we balanced each other out. That together we filled all those empty spaces the other had.
He turned his back on me. “I shouldn’t have entered your room without your permission.”
I sighed. Now that I was free I could pull the blanket up to cover myself and not worry about being stuck. “You can turn around. I’m fully covered.” As much as I tried, I knew I didn’t hide the hurt in my voice all too well. “I’m sorry about this. Jess didn’t seem to include anything but clothes like this for pajamas.”
He faced me again. His gaze stayed steady just above my head. “It’s of no consequence to me what you wear to bed.”
My jaw clenched at the blatant lie that left his lips. “Right. Of course,” I murmured. At least now I was back to feeling frustration and not sadness. “I’ll be ready to leave in ten minutes.”
He gave a curt nod and fled my room. As I pulled myself up from the floor and headed to my closet to find something to change into, I started to wonder what else I could do to push through Jareth’s internal sense of right and wrong when it came to me.
I pulled out a silky button down shirt that had holly berries and leaves scattered throughout and snagged a matching pair of red dress pants. It was the gentle reminder I needed that this was the Christmas season and anything was possible. Perhaps even resurrecting the heart of my grumpy boss.
CHAPTER 10
Jareth
The door to the private luxury suite of my bar, Luminosity, flew open.
“Killian.” I gave him a brief flick of my chin in acknowledgement as I poured a glass of Macallan thirty year double cask highland single malt scotch. He was the last of our group to arrive.
“Don’t you, Killian me,” he growled the moment he entered.
“I would never,” I responded in a tone that was decidedly mocking.
Killian Hook was a fucking primadonna rockstar. He’d gotten his way too many times in his booming career to expect anything else. Not that I played that game. He ultimately worked for me and the record label I co-owned. I didn’t give two shits about who he was and the fact that we’d become friendly over the past year didn’t mean anything.
The self-entitled rockstar’s long-legged stride brought him quickly to the bar. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a drink from the bottle I’d set down. In one long swallow, he finished that drink and made himself another. We didn’t use any staff during our monthly poker game to safeguard the sensitive information discussed.
Killian was clearly bent on starting our meeting with drama instead of getting directly to the point, finding out which company had won the vote, and knowing who was about to be destroyed. He paced the room, one hand holding his glass while the other ran through his chin length curly hair. Hair that his fans screamed over, and if he was to be believed, a few had tried to cut off a piece as a souvenir.
I sat down at the table in the center of our suite. “What have I done now?”
There was no doubt in my mind that the four other men already seated knew this was going to happen. The five of them had grown up together, some in worse situations than others, meeting the year they played on their state-wide little league travel baseball team. Their friendship was tight after twenty-two years. A little over a year ago, they needed my help with a situation and afterward decided they could trust me enough to let me into their collective circle. Besides requesting my silence about our activities, I’d been required to have tattoo done that matched theirs. A crown with flames surrounding it.
The bastards sat back in their seats sipping their drinks and watching the show. “Do I get any context here?” I looked briefly at the men sitting around the table: Jack Finn, NHL Hockey Player, Archer Loxley, Olympic Archer, and the irony of his name was lost on no one, Trey Oso, the Head and Lead Designer of my Couture Fashion House, and Luke Vega, Hollywood Actor.
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard something about it yet,” Luke offered with a shrug.
