AllFreeNovel
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I hate to put him out, but then I look at the three bags I packed for a four-day trip.
Me:Sounds good.
I take a quick look around my apartment and go through the mental checklist to make sure I didn’t forget anything. When I hear Donovan knock on the door, a wide smile stretches across my face.Here we go. I open the door.
“Hey, Don—” I stop mid-sentence when I get a look at who’s on the other side, leaning against the frame with a cocky-as-hell grin on his smug face.
“Hey, Red,” he drawls in that husky voice he knows all too well is my kryptonite.
It’s the Prince of Darkness himself, Jackson Hayes, Donovan’s brother—the reason I needed this damn vacation to begin with.
“I thought you weren’t coming, Prince. Too busy stocking lube or sex toys,” I snark.
Jackson owns a very exclusive sex club in Philadelphia. I went once and had a great time until he made me leave because another man was getting too close for comfort and insisted on driving me home. Yeah, we aren’t going into that story. Having him on this tripdoes notchange my resolve. Any hanky panky with him is off the table—for good.
“I wasn’t, but when my brother told me you were coming, I figured they’d need an extra car for all your luggage.” He looks around me and spots the three bags next to the door, then glances back at me, quirking his brow as if he just proved his point.
“Your brother drives a Range Rover, so plenty of room for my bags,” I say defensively, propping a fist on my hip.
“Oh, She-Devil.” He chuckles. “It’s as if you think I don’t know how much shit you pack. Donovan’s car won’t hold everyone’s bags.”
Wait a second here… “I’m not driving up there with you, Jackson.”
“Jeez, Red,”—his hand goes to his chest as if I’ve wounded his heart—“way to kick a guy in the balls when he’s just trying to help.”
“Oh, I forgot how magnanimous you are, Prince.” I roll my eyes. “Such a giving soul,” I drawl.
A wicked gleam shines in Jackson’s eyes. “If you’ve forgotten how giving I am, I’ll gladly remind you, Red,” he says in a deep, rumbly voice.
Not today, Satan.
“We need to go,” I tell him firmly, turning away to grab a bag and hide the blush I feel crawling up my cheeks.
Jackson chuckles again. “Alright, let’s get loaded up and get to the cabin.”
We take my bags downstairs, and Jackson just has to make a huge production of putting my bags in his trunk. Jeez, they’re notthatheavy. When he slams the trunk shut, he rubs his hands together and looks at me.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yup.” Making my way to Donovan’s car, I open the door and find Lindsey and her boyfriend, Aiden, in the backseat.
“Hey, Abs. If you want, we can ride with Jackson.” Lindsey is well aware that Jackson and I don’t get along. No one knows about the few times we’ve gotten alongtoowell, though.
I consider taking her up on her offer, but that might mean Jackson could catch on to the fact that I don’t trust myself to be alone with him. Being in a confined space when it’s just the two of us does things to me I’m trying desperately to avoid. I refuse to let him see what he does to me. I have my pride after all.
“No, no, it’s fine. See you guys there.” I tack on a wide smile. If I show everyone that everything is fine, it will be… at least that’s what I tell myself.
I turn to see Jackson opening the passenger door of his car for me with a knowing smile on his face.
“I guess you’re stuck with me for an hour. Whatever shall we do with the time?” he asks with a wink.
With my head held high, I saunter over as if this is totally fine with me. Again, I’m going to fake it ‘til I make it, and in the meantime, I won’t let the man see me sweat.
“I get to pick the music.” Getting into the car, I refuse to acknowledge his comment.
Jackson chuckles and closes the door, then walks around the front of the car to get in. Dammit, the man is beautiful. Even though he’s bundled in a warm winter coat and cable-knit sweater, I know what’s under those layers, and it’s fabulous. Too bad he’s a playboy and enjoys the thrill of the chase more than the actual work of a relationship. He may want to continue the secret fling we’ve indulged in a few times in the last few months, but I’m not interested. Jackson Hayes may be good—even great—for a few orgasms, but he would be hell on the heart, and mine is already scarred enough.
The hour-long drive to the cabin is quiet for the most part. I’m not interested in small talk. I have a difficult enough time keeping it together with his rich cedar scent filling the small space and bringing back memories of when I was wrapped in that scent for hours at a time.
