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He went for the whiskey then, because quite honestly, he didn’t know what else to do. A sixteen-year-old Lagavulin he found in the lounge would do the trick. Might help wipe from his head the look on Bailey’s face when he’d tossed that file into the fire and forced her hand.
She’d never wanted anyone to know about that part of her life. And he’d made her reveal it.
He carried the tumbler out onto the terrace and rested his palms on the railing. The sea glistened at the base of the cliffs in the moonlight. The whiskey slid down his throat, smoky and salty, a welcome heat to counter the disquiet plaguing him. He’d needed to know. Had to know. The ends justified the means. But now what?
He should take Bailey off the pitch. He should handle it alone for both their sakes. It was clear Alexander Gagnon had a fixation with her. He’d offered her an insane amount of money to sleep with him. And a man like that just didn’t give up…he pursued until he won. To hell with his deal.
But there was also Davide to consider. Bailey was his ace in the hole when it came to the elder Gagnon, and he was still very much in the picture. He needed her thinking to win.
The whiskey slid down his throat, smooth and fiery. Bailey’s words echoed in his head.
I had dreams, Jared. Just like you had. Except you had a brain and I had my body so I used it.
The look on her face when she’d given up…when she’d told him to take her off the deal.
His guts twisted. Bailey had fought her way out of a life most people would have accepted as their fate and never tried to rise above. But she had. She hadn’t let it define her. She was the smartest, most composed, drop-dead beautiful woman he’d ever met. Her brilliant ideas had made their presentation.
He stared out at the brightly lit boats bobbing on the sea, their smooth roll telegraphing a calm night to come. And a strange kind of certainty settled over him. Bailey needed someone to believe in her. He was pretty sure she’d never had that. And he wasn’t giving up on her.
It wasn’t even a question.
It was then that Jared Stone realized his manifesto was the biggest piece of crap he’d ever written.
* * *
Bailey had just slipped her nightie on when a knock came at the door. Her emotions far too close to the surface, she stayed where she was.
“I’m fine, Jared. I’m good with all of it. I just need some sleep.”
“I’m not leaving until I talk to you. Open the door.”
His tone was hard; implacable, like Jared was. She cursed, grabbed her robe and tugged it on. Attempted to compose herself as she pulled the door open and found him standing there like a fierce warrior, filling the doorway with his broad-shouldered frame.
“I am not dropping you,” he announced. “We are partners and we are doing this together.”
“Jared—” She bit her lip, furiously blinking back tears. Even after what she’d just told him, he was still backing her?
“We are a team,” he said quietly, blue gaze softening. “I’ve told you that from the beginning. You trusted me enough to tell me about your past tonight and I know that wasn’t easy. I need you in that room with me, Bailey. You’ve proven that.”
A tear slid down her cheek. She couldn’t help it. No one had ever shown such faith in her. She’d been going it alone since she was seventeen and suddenly, she felt so tired of it. Tired of fighting every battle by herself.
“Christ, Bailey.” He took a step forward and brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Did you think I was just going to abandon you? After everything you’ve put into this? Those are your ideas Davide loves.”
She looked down, anywhere but at him, but the tears kept rolling. “I thought you wouldn’t respect me, that you wouldn’t want me anywhere near this deal if you knew what I’d been…”
He slid his fingers under her chin and brought her gaze back up to his. “I am not going in there without you. And as for respecting you? I’ve never respected a woman more in my life. For who you are. For what you’ve done…”
Something melted inside of Bailey. Something that had been frozen for so long she’d forgotten it existed. She thought it might be her heart.
“But what about Alexander? Lord knows what he’s capable of and I would never forgive myself if you lose this deal because of me.”
“I’m not going to lose,” he said softly. “Alexander Gagnon likes to win. I like to win more.”
“But—”
He pressed his fingers against her lips. She fell silent in a sea of confusion that had only one focal point: the electricity that was so strong between them that it held her completely still as his eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t read. He put his mouth to the hot, wet tears dampening her cheeks and kissed each one away with a slow drag of his lips that started out comforting and ended up something else entirely.
Hot. Scorching hot.
She didn’t know who kissed who first. It was unspoken communication, her hands cupping his jaw, devouring him, while his found the belt to her robe, untied it and pushed it off her shoulders. She moved into him until her bare skin was molded against the hard muscles of his chest, tasting him, knowing him, until she wasn’t sure where she started and he ended.
“You are so beautiful,” he rasped, his mouth leaving hers to trail a path of fire down her throat. When he hit the ultrasensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, she gasped and arched to give him better access. He took full advantage, nuzzling and exploring until she dug her hands into his shoulders and demanded more.
He drew back and took her in. Color swept every centimeter of her skin. “We can’t do this. You are my boss.”
He shook his head. “It’s never been that simple with us and you know it.”
“Jared…”
He slid a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of her nightie and slipped it off her shoulder. Her heart pounded in her chest as he weighed her breast in his palm and learned the shape of her. She could have pulled away then, should have pulled away, but the want in her shocked her, the fact she’d never let a man touch her like this becoming inconsequential somewhere around the time he took her inside the heat of his mouth and her knees went weak.
The rush, the sweet, all-encompassing rush knocked her brain sideways. She buried her fingers in his hair and closed her eyes. And for once in her life just let herself feel. Want. He slid his jean-clad leg between her thighs and brought her closer. He was hard and rough against her sensitive skin and it excited her beyond belief.
She moved against him and whimpered. “Jared…”
He slid the strap off her other shoulder and flicked his tongue over her engorged nipple. Gave her what her husky entreaty hadn’t been able to verbalize. And the unfamiliar throb inside her reached a fever pitch.
Somehow she was in his arms and he was striding across the room to the sofa in the lounge. He sat down, wrapped her legs around him and brought his mouth back to hers in a red-hot kiss that pulled her under again.
She should have been alarmed at how fast things were moving, that they were moving at all given her lack of experience, but somehow with Jared, it felt so right. She buried her mouth in the hollow of his neck and explored his musky, salty, utterly male scent.
He found the hem of her nightie and pushed it up. Her gaze tracked his movements as he trailed his fingers over the concave dip where her hip met thigh.
“You are all woman,” he murmured huskily.
“Too much, I’d say.”
He shook his head. “You are perfection. You know what I was thinking that night you asked me to choose the shoes?”
“What?”
He trailed his fingers along the edge of her panties, down to where she was on fire for him. “This.”
His whispered answer sent a shiver down her spine. Her stomach curled into a hard, tight ball as he brought his thumb to her center and rotated it so achingly slowly she thought she might go up in flames.
“I thought that if we’d been on a date,” he continued huskily, “I would have kept you there until I’d made you come…at least twice.”
She lost her composure then. “Jared—”
He put his fingers to her mouth. “Better late than never, don’t you think?”
Having never had an orgasm in her life, Bailey couldn’t answer that question. And good thing she didn’t have to, because Jared flipped their positions then, went down on his knees in front of the sofa and lifted his gaze to hers.
“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”
Her pulse went into overdrive, tattooing itself against her veins so hard she thought she might pass out. She didn’t know it was possible to feel so turned on and so excruciatingly self-conscious at the same time, but the blazing heat of his deep blue gaze spurred her on. Lustful. Full of want. Nothing she wasn’t ready to give.
Her thighs fell apart. He worked his palms up the inside of them, arranging her to his satisfaction until she couldn’t look anymore and closed her eyes. And then his hands were under her hips, urging her forward; his mouth was hot against her center, burning a trail against her damp panties, and Bailey forgot her name.
He tugged off her underwear with an impatient movement, setting his mouth to her heated flesh, where she was wet and wanting him. Hot, sweet pleasure coursed through her, curled her toes.
