Page 168 of Gilt

He doesn’t mistake the double meaning, and without a word, he grabs my hand and strides toward the elevator.

“Are you on a break?” I call, trying to fish my phone out of my bag with my free hand.

“No.” He continues forward, and to my surprise, he bypasses the private elevator and steps into one crowded with people. Jameson shifts behind me to make room for another passenger, giving him the opportunity to grab my hips and pull me against him. His dick presses against my butt, and my breath hitches. Just imagining what’s about to happen tightens my stomach, and when we step off the elevator a few floors later. I glance around.

“Where are the hotel rooms?” I ask in confusion, staring at a corridor of meeting rooms and banquet halls.

“If I take you near a bed, I won’t get back to work today, and”—he checks his phone— “I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” I taunt him, letting my hips sway a bit as I walk.

“Not until you answer a question.” He grabs me around the waist and holds me. Meanwhile, I’ve stopped breathing. Jameson didn’t spot me by chance in the hotel lobby. He’d sought me out.

Leading me into a meeting room, he picks me up and sets me on the edge of a table. “What are you doing here?”

“How did you know I was here?” I hate the idea of lying to him, so I counter with a question of my own.

“We were overseeing the implementation of a new security system.” He smiles tightly. I don’t need him to explain why it’s necessary. Jameson has been gradually increasing security around his hotel, his family, and to my annoyance, his girlfriend since his dad was killed. “Were you hoping to see me?”

He steps between my legs, angling his face to nuzzle my neck. I hook my arms around his neck, my fingers lingering in his mess of auburn hair. “I’m always hoping to see you, but I had lunch with Monroe.”

I’m leaving a few important details out, but I’m not certain he’s going to be thrilled about this party. I need to butter him up first.

“Monroe?” he repeats.

“She wants me to feel like part of the family.” I prop my index finger over his lips when he tries to speak. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping her close without letting her get too close.”

“Smart girl,” he breathes. Jameson is content with my answer, or he’s lost his patience. Either way, he’s distracted from his interrogation. His hands creep under my shirt to massage my breasts while he kisses my collarbone. Within a few seconds, I’m practically vibrating under his touch.

“You were saying something about friction, Duchess?” he whispers against my skin before brushing his cheek across my neck. My body answers for me, erupting in goosebumps. Jameson chuckles under his breath. He rocks against me, and I clutch his tie, lowering my back to the table. I don’t bother to ask if he’s locked the door, even after he’s stripped me from the waist down. One of the perks of being with the owner of a resort is that no one is calling security if they stumble in. Plus, the idea of getting caught sends a throb traveling between my legs.

Jameson’s jaw trails along the soft inner skin of my thigh, sending a ripple of pleasure that bubbles out of me in giggles.

“Are you ticklish?” He lingers in the spot until I’m laughing and panting, torn between giddiness and anticipation. Finally, his head pops into view, a smug grin plastered on his face. “You sound like a squeak toy.”

I glare at him, too weak from his physical teasing to come up with a retort. My lack of response only encourages him to laugh, too. Hooking his arms around my legs, he drags me to the edge of the table. “Don’t worry, Duchess. I’m not done playing with my toy yet.”

Arranging my last visit of the day takes a little more finesse. Explaining to Maddox that I want to visit Monroe’s now ex-boyfriend results in a blank stare.

“He got into a fight,” I tell him. “He was beaten up pretty badly, and I wanted to check in on him.”

“That’s considerate of you.” Either Maddox isn’t buying what I’m selling, or he’s really more teddy bear than human. I’m happy regardless. As it turns out, Maddox is the easy one to appease. Jonas’s mother is far less happy to see me.

I smile broadly when she opens the door. “I came to check on Jonas.”

“He told me company was coming.” It’s clear from the way her lips purse like she accidentally sucked on a lemon wedge that he forgot to mention I was the company.

I take her acknowledgment as an invitation and waltz into the house. Unless they’ve changed things around, I know exactly where his bedroom is. If what Jonas told us was true, then his mom will be thrilled to see a girl going inside.

Well, maybe if that girl was someone other than me. But given my current notoriety, I can’t blame her.

Jonas is strung across his bed, absorbed in a PlayStation game.

“I didn’t know they still made those,” I say. It had been years since I’d played a video game, but, at the moment, I understood the appeal of delayed adolescence.

Jonas looks up and grins. He won’t be smiling for much longer, not when I tell him why I’m here. I clutch my purse a little closer. It feels heavier with the police file inside.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, checking out the deep, purple bruises on his cheekbones. A few have begun to fade to green along the edges.