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“Will do.”
I end the call, and just as I’m about to jump in the shower and get ready for bed, my phone buzzes again.
It’s Dylan.
“Yeah?” I say, not kindly.
“Jackson, bro.”
First, he’s not my bro.
“I wanted to apologize for tonight. But you know…”
“Yeah, I know. You saw a pretty face with a great ass.”
“When the man’s right, the man’s right.”
“Not a problem, Dylan. See you at work tomorrow.”
Feminine laughter permeates the background. Gigi Frost. Not that I’m surprised. I knew damned well where Dylan was heading tonight.
He is, however,notheading to the IT department on a recommendation from me. He’s on his own. I like to get laid as much as the next person, but I’ve worked hard to get where I am in Black Inc., and I didn’t let any hot piece of ass keep me from getting there—and plenty tried.
Into the shower.
And I find myself with a rock-hard dick.
I’m not exactly sure why. A few dances with Isabella Phillips didn’t do that for me. At any rate, the shower I take is a cold one.
When I’m done, I’m still horny as hell.
I could go to the club. It’s open until three a.m. I’m sure someone would be up for a scene. I even go so far as to dress in my club gear. I stand at the door of my apartment, ready to open it, but my hand doesn’t quite get to the knob.
I’m not sure how long I stand there—or what I think about—before I head back to my bedroom, peel off my black jeans, and go to bed.
…
Four a.m. comes early, but I love it. I mix myself a protein shake and head downstairs to the gym on the first floor of my building. Today is arms and abs day. After a forty-five-minute workout, I hit the treadmill. Normally, I like to run outside, but the weather is drizzly and dreary this morning, so the treadmill it is. I plug myself into some hard rock that keeps my blood pumping, set the machine to a steep incline, and begin.
I don’t think during my workouts—not about work, not about women, not about anything in particular. I listen to tunes and concentrate on physical fitness. I’ve been an athlete most of my life, and this is mymetime.
Once my workout is complete, I head to the showers and then the steam room. Then back up to my apartment to dress for work.
Once at the office, who’s waiting for me but Dylan Andrews.
“Hey,” he says, following me into my office. “I want to apologize again for last night.”
“Not a problem.”
I don’t make eye contact. It’s a little trick I picked up when I first interned for Braden and Ben Black. They both do it. Some people will think it’s because you’re too insecure to look them in the eye, but in truth, it’s showing them they’re not important enough to bother with.
Will Dylan get it? I honestly don’t give a rat’s ass.
“Can we arrange a do-over?”
This time, I look up from my phone and deliberately meet his gaze. “No. We can’t.”
His cheeks redden slightly. “Look, man, I said I was sorry.”
