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He leans in and answers the unspoken question in my eyes. “I wanted some alone time with you. This is Tim. He’s my usual driver, Jillian.”
“Ms. Jillian, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He nods and then holds the door open for us.
I slide in and Sawyer follows, sitting extremely close to me. The space inside grows hot and full of tension. “Sawyer, do you think this is wise?” He leans over and breathes me in, nose brushing along my throat, nudging my hair to the side before sliding kisses over my heated skin.
“No, it’s probably not, but I could get used to this.” He lifts me onto his lap and grinds my pussy on to him, only to be interrupted by his phone. “We’ll continue this later, Jilly Bean.”
Unhooking myself from his waist, I set myself back down in my seat. “Buckle up.” He then tells the driver that we’re ready before he takes his call and adjusting his suit jacket as if we weren’t about to get hot and heavy. Not once does he give me a second glance. It’s all business and I try not to be bothered, but the woman in me can’t fight the depressing ache that he will always put earning millions ahead of our relationship.
Is it always going to be this way?
Chapter Eight
Sawyer
I’m so damn grateful my investor called, or I would have embarrassed myself for coming too fast. In seconds she unmanned me, rubbing her bare pussy on my hard bulge. Luckily, it ended fast because there was no barrier between the driver and us, and there’s no way I was letting Tim see my woman’s ass or allowing him access to her musical voice as she came.
She thought I didn’t notice how upset she was, but I recognized it and understood my problem needed solving as soon as we had time. As we step off the elevator, Cynthia says, “Your breakfast is waiting in your office.”
“Thank you. Jillian and I will be meeting with Thorne at ten and then heading out for lunch with her parents. Is my brother in his office?”
“He’s working onsite with Morimoto.”
“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten about that meeting.” I nod and lead Jillian through the door, closing it before Cynthia speaks. “Eat. We don’t have a lot of time before Thorne gets here.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Stop lying. I can hear your stomach growling, and so is mine.” Scooping up a breakfast egg wrap and biting down, I chew without a word. She follows my lead with a sausage wrap, making me feel better. We eat in silence while I check my emails that I’m sure are running wild. Most days I work nine hours minimum, and yesterday I managed a meager four before calling it a day and claiming Jillian. Today’s going to be a repeat as well.
“Excuse me, but I need to use the restroom,” she says, standing after finishing her coffee.
“Okay.” She walks away but doesn’t look at me. Maybe she’s uncomfortable about the whole bathroom issue new couples have, so I don’t press the issue. Hell, I used a different bathroom in the house this morning.
Five minutes pass, and there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.” I expect it to be Jillian, but it’s Thorne.
“Hey, thanks for coming. Do you have the documents ready to sign?”
“Yes, but I was expecting to finally meet the bride-to-be.”
“She went to use the ladies’ room and should be back any moment.”
Chapter Nine
Jillian
The more we sat in silence, the more uncomfortable I grew. There was a lot to say and so much I’d been afraid to address. Sawyer was intimidating to say the least and so damn gorgeous, even when he scowled. Excusing myself was the only thing I could do. When I exited his office, Cynthia was in the ladies’ room, and she smiled when she saw me.
“I told you, girl.”
“I guess you were right. Now we’re waiting for his lawyer to show up in a few minutes.”
“Probably to go over the prenup.”
“The prenup?” I whisper to myself. Of course he’d want me to sign a prenup. Sawyer is all about making money, and I have nothing to my name. The bathroom walls seem to close all around me, the air thickening and my head feeling heavy. Escape. That’s all I can hear.
“Are you okay, Jill?” she asks, pressing her hand on my shoulder with her face suddenly inches from mine.
“Yes. I need to go.” She doesn’t ask any questions as my feet move quickly and lightly to the elevator before anyone can stop me. My body doesn’t quit moving until I hit the platform at the train station. The inside of my inner thighs rub together and begin to ache as I rush to my parents’ front door.
