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“You did great back there,” Jacob says, watching me from the kitchen island.
Jacob rented this apartment for the meeting, using a false name since it’s on the top floor—no chance for photographers—and there’s less chance of anybody seeing us. It’s a fancy place, every surface shining, reminding me how far apart this man and I truly are.
I’m pacing up and down, buzzing after the interview with Wayne.
“I mean it,” Jacob goes on. “He might not have told us anything if you hadn’t grilled him so hard.”
Jacob walks around the obsidian kitchen island and approaches me slowly. Each step brings the memory of the car back to me.
“I can’t believe it,” I say. “His editor told him to drop the story. What possible reason could he have for that? It’s ajuicystory. I mean, look at my website. Nobody did before that story. Look at it now. It’s getting thousands of visitors, and he just dropped it? It doesn’t add up. We need to figure out why…”
I trail off when I notice Jacob watching me. He’s not quite smiling, but it’s like there’s a hint of the shape his lips could take.
“What?” I ask.
“You, Maddie. You’re a force of nature. Nothing’s going to stop you from getting to the bottom of this.”
His hands are in his pockets, just like outside. I wonder if it’s to stop himself from touching me again. Does he regret it?
“I wouldn’t have been able to arrange this without your help,” I tell him, stepping forward.
He seems to take this as a sign, only he doesn’t take a baby step like me. He takes a large step forward, so that all at once, he’s looming over me, his chest bulging, his scent filling me.
“You’re incredible,” he says. “Don’t downplay it.”
We’ve been good ever since I arrived, but apparently, he can’t take it anymore. I’m relieved because I can’t either.
He snarls through the kiss as his arms loop around me. Lifting me off my feet, he carries me to the kitchen island. Our lips never leave each other, frantically kissing, desperate, hungry, like, if westopkissing, we’ll have to think this through. I’ll have to tell him the truth, and not just about Mom.
When he lays me down on the cool marble surface, I don’t think. I just wrap my arms around him and return the pressure in the kiss. He groans and grabs my leg again.
Did I wear a skirt on purpose? Did I know this might happen? I don’t answer the question, not even to myself, instead focusing on his warm palm pushing against my tights, grinding higher, moving closer to my sex. My core aches as he inches closer and closer, my hole feeling wet already, my clit needy for his touch.
But after… I shouldn’t think about after and what comes next. If I even have sex with him—and that’s a sizableif—there’s Mom to think about. Her job and her maybe crush. What if this ends badly? Jacob could fire her.
Our mouths open, our tongues teasing at each other, pleasure dancing around our mouths as he reaches around with his free hand and places it on my back. He pulls me toward him, my legs hanging off the island, and slides his hand right up between my legs at the same time.
A new feeling. A new compulsion. I gasp, unable to continue kissing when he pushes his hand against my sex. He does it firmly, the heel of his palm grinding against my clit when he rubs up and down.
Leaning back, he stares, as if he’s intent on watching me as he obsessively moves his hand. Tickling fire-hot euphoria sears my clit and consumes my entire sex, especially when added to the look he gives me.
Nothing else matters as he stares. Nothing elsecouldmatter. Not even the truth, our most sacred value… the truth of what could come after.
“You’re so sexy when you twitch like that,” he growls.
“Like… what?”
“Likethat.”
He rubs with more force, causing my body to reverberate with lust. When he slips his hand into my tights, I almost lose it. It’s his moan as much as the physical feeling, the indisputable excitement in it. He moans deeper when he slides further down to my core.
“You’re perfect,” he says gruffly.
I can’t speak, my voice catching when I try. Probably because he returns to my clit and starts rubbing, skin against skin, nothing separating us as the pleasure gets more forceful, quicker.Hotmost of all. Where the hell did all thisheatcome from? It’s like he’s wearing a glove of flames, kissing my clit, my pussy, my lips, my everything.
“Lie back,” he says, a tone of command in his voice. “I need to watch you as you make these panties even wetter for me.”
