Jett gazes down at me, and I tilt my chin up to face him. The warm hazel of his irises glows with lust. “I got you,” he murmurs.
Between the low tone of his voice, the half-up hairstyle he rocked up with this morning that set my skin ablaze, the firm placement of his hands, and the knowledge that my panties now reside in his pockets, I’m not on the edge, I’m one move from skittering right over it.
Creepy bugs add to the jumpiness.
“This here is a wait-a-while vine,” the guide points out, “sharp and a real nightmare if you get caught on it.”
The new plant engulfs Doug’s attention, and Molly digs something out of his bag, giving him something before he even asks. A switch of a lens, and he’s taking a different video. They don’t need to speak, a comfortable, silent communication occurring between them, as natural as taking a breath.
What would it be like to have that with someone? To know them so well you no longer need words to communicate?
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” I chide, or at least try to. The question comes out breathy rather than sharp.
No one else notices Jett trapping me in his embrace, my back flush against his chest. The distinct impression of an erection lies against my ass, and my skin buzzes.
“That was the original plan,” he hums.
“What changed?”
One hand releases my waist to turn my jaw. A few simple touches and low whispers, and I’m putty in his hands.
A sensation I don’t want to name swirls in my gut, and I banish all thoughts of what happens when we leave Australia to the recesses of my mind. I’ll stew on that tonight in the sanctity of the shower.
“You’re brilliant, Sofía. I think you can put it together.”
Brilliant. He thinks I’mbrilliant.
I shouldn’t latch on to his words, let them take root, but he’s so genuine, so kind, that I know he means them. They’re not in jest, but he believes them with total conviction. And that makes it mean so much more. Somewhere out there is a woman who will win the jackpot with Jett. Bile burns the back of my throat, and I stamp down the discomfort.
I made the rules, so I know why we have to follow them.
Though I don’t think knowing either of those things will make it any easier when we land in LA.
“You forgot your camera,” I deflect, pulling out of his grip.
“Around the corner, you’ll see a strangler fig. They inspired James Cameron when he was creatingAvatar.”
Doug, Molly, and the guide round the corner of the boardwalk, now out of sight, and I go to catch up with them and try to outrun the sick jealousy consuming me, but my arm jerks back at the first step, and I’m spun against a tree.
Jett’s right hand lifts to brace against the bark next to my head, the other hand locking me in place beneath him. Our foreheads touch, and his ragged breath mingles with mine.
My heart beats in my throat while I dart my tongue out to coat my lips.
“You are a wicked woman,” he whispers, lips tugging up at the corners.
My chest heaves, desperate to reach out and touch him, but I keep my hands glued to my sides. I’m falling too deep into this already. Physical is morphing into something emotional, and everything is muddled. Sex with him is one thing. Holding hands might plunge me into madness.
This deal has an expiration, and I would do well to remember that, no matter how much my body revolts against it. Once we get back to LA, we’ll go back to being friends with a working relationship. And he’ll go on dates and fall in love and hopefully find the happiness and partnership he’s been looking for. That hedeserves.
And I’ll be happy for him.
My stomach cramps, twisting into knots.
“You’re right,” I murmur. “I’ll take those…”
I try to pick my panties out of his pocket, but my hand is snatched away and pinned to the tree. Who the fuck is this man, and where is the silly, shy guy from a week ago?
You give a man a blowjob, and suddenly they’re more confident than you are. This new side of Jett both thrills me andcauses mild annoyance that he’s figured out how to one-up me. Maybe I’ll one-up him back.
