His Pawn

by Emily Snow

  THIRTY

  LUCY

  The Monday after our visit with B in his office—two weeks after the giant sex scandal— the heiress in question releases a statement on her official website, her Facebook, and her Twitter. She says that sex is natural and that if anyone wants to argue her on that, they can go fuck themselves. Naturally, the media has a field day with her comment, but I quickly learn from Daisy that Victoria has forgiven Jace and it’s all because Mr. B used his charms to convince her to own her sexuality.

  “After all,” Daisy tells me over the sound of something printing in the background. “It’s not illegal to have sex. It’s not like he was running a brothel. Theo says he’ll probably get more clients just because of it.”

  “I’m glad,” I whisper, feeling a sliver of the pressure weighing me down lift from my shoulders. “Is—is he doing okay?”

  “Jace?”

  “Yes. Is he okay?”

  “Ehh.” She makes a noise that doesn't seem too convincing. “It was really touch and go for a while, but I mean business is booming now. A reporter from some smut site asked Victoria where she gets all her fun toys, so she told them about EXtreme. The woman and her implants are like marketing cocaine.”

  When I suck in a breath, Daisy starts to apologize, but I rush to assure her she hasn’t offended me. “No, it’s fine. I'm just glad to hear I haven’t bankrupted the company. God knows I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I had,” I explain as I dash out the front door and climb into my car.

  Daisy begins telling me about the date she and Theo have set for their wedding, but when I start the ignition and the sound of John Mayer blasts from the radio, she lets out a feral-sounding growl.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Sunshine? You spend two weeks—two weeks—away from me and you're already listening to “Your Body is a Wonderland” again?”

  “It’s a classic,” I inform her hotly, and she snorts.

  “So is “Achy, Breaky Heart,” and I’d give you hell for listening to that too.”

  I talk to Daisy for the next 15 minutes, until I reach my destination, and when I tell her I have an interview, I can hear the grin in her voice.

  “What are you promoting now?”

  “I'm trying to promote bras, but I’m not sure how that’ll go when they check my references. I have a shitty track record with my last two employers.” Although, my friend Andi had sent me an article about Java-Org’s latest announcement—they’re closing shop, effective the first of June.

  I had hoped to feel pleased that the bitch called Karma was finally biting Tom in the ass, but I’d stared at my laptop screen for a long time, a bitter pain in the back of my throat.

  “Bras?” Daisy squeals, cutting into my thoughts.

  “Not the silky lingerie you're thinking about. Workout bras and clothes like that.”

  “Pshh, what kind of girl do you think I am? I was thinking exactly what you’re thinking. Believe it or not, I like my fun sports bras just as much as I love my leggings—too bad my nephews use my bras to launch my cooking into my neighbor’s yard whenever they’re at my place.” After I tell her how sadistic her nephews are, and she agrees, she says, “If you get the job, you better send me something good. I’ve gotten smart, so now I hide my unmentionables whenever the little bastards come over. My neighbor’s appreciate that.”

  I promise her I will, and when we hang up and I walk into the giant office building, I'm smiling.

  To my delight—and total disbelief—I am hired on the spot for the marketing position at the new company whose goal is to launch a line of fitness wear targeted toward women of all shapes and sizes. The pay is a lot less than what I would have made at EXtreme, but I like the owner—Naomi. I also love the fact her clothes are quite literally for every woman, so I immediately accept. Though I was honest with her during the interview, and she’s fully aware that my face was front and center in the photo that broke the internet for a few days, I spend the next few days terrified. Wondering if, at any moment, Naomi will contact me and retract the offer.

  That doesn’t happen.

  When she finally calls, she tells me that my background check came back squeaky clean and that I start on Monday. She also lets me know how impressed she was that I used to work at WLC. One of the clothing lines that we helped promote in my earlier days at the company had been my new boss’s motivation for creating her brand. While she hated that none of their clothes worked for her body type, she’d admired the marketing campaign. Because I spearheaded it, she said she had no other choice but to hire me.

  When Naomi mentions that, while she hadn’t been able to get in touch with Tom, both EXtreme and WLC had incredible things to say about me, I’m floored. So, as I sit in the bathtub soaking after a long workout, I text Jace to thank him.

  Because it can’t hurt any worse than it already does.

  At first, I don’t think he’ll respond back. My text history shows that he read it almost immediately, just like all the others I’ve sent. But just as I drain the water, preparing to shower off, a new alert startles me. I sit in the bathtub for a long time, letting the water disappear, and not caring as I read and re-read his text.

  7:32 PM: You’re welcome, Williams. I’m sorry it didn’t work out here. Thank you for what you did with Bailon. I mean it.

  Finally, the tears start again.

  And this time, they don’t stop so easily.

  To celebrate my new job before I start on Monday, I go out to drinks with Jamie at the end of the week. “You're drinking tequila tonight,” she points out waggling her eyebrows at the full shot glass on the bar counter. “Let me guess, you’ve been researching test groups and spending all your time working before you actually start working is wearing you out.”

  “I haven’t been researching test groups, thank you very much.” That will come in a few months, and to be honest, I’m anticipating women’s positive reactions to Naomi’s product. The sports bra she gifted me at my interview is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slipped into. “I figured I would do something besides my usual mojito. Besides, you drink tequila every time we go out.”

  “But you don’t,” she says, her gaze leaving mine for just a moment to follow a guy with the face and body of a Greek god as he walks by. He’s wearing a leather jacket and there are tattoos covering his neck. When she checks out his ass and releases a low whistle, I cock my eyebrows.

  “And speaking of trying something besides the usual…” I say, earning a shrug from my best friend. “Changing your type from lab coats and business suits?”

  “Not changing my type, per se, but expanding my options.”

  “You never did tell me what Mr. B said to you in his office.” I’d tried to remember his exact words once I was in my car—to run them through Google Translate—but that was a bust. “Care to share?”

  “Nope.” Flushing, she grabs my shot and tosses it back, ignoring my dark glare. “I’ll be thirty in two years, Luce.”

  “Now who’s changing the subject. By the way, you owe me a drink and—” I start, but my phone begins vibrating on the counter beside my empty glass. I consider powering it off, but since my mother worries so much, I pick it up to make sure she isn’t checking up on me, even though she’s supposed to be on a date with her friend tonight. My heart slams to a stop when I see another number that I know like the back of my hand.

  Jace.

  9:18 PM: Do you have a few minutes tonight? To talk in person?

  I stare at the words on the screen until my vision blurs and I feel thin fingers on my shoulder shaking me back to reality. I meet Jamie’s concerned stare and swallow hard. “Are you okay?”

  I return my phone to the counter and face her with a numb expression. “Jace just texted me.”

  Her brown eyes bulge. “Wait, what?”

  “Jace just texted asking if he can see me.”

  “Then text him back.”

  I shake my head, running my hand over my face. “I don’
t know what to say.”

  “Are you kidding me, Luce? You tell him that you’re sorry. You tell him that you fucked up. You tell him that you’re pissed off he didn’t have the decency to listen to you when you tried to apologize to him. Hell, you can tell him that you love him, but message him back.”

  The laughter that bubbles from my chest is borderline hysterical. “What if he just shoots all that down?”

  “Then at least you can say you tried.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  LUCY

  I tell Jace that I have already drank too much and I’ll meet with him when I don’t require an Uber driver to make it back, so he immediately asks where I am. Twenty minutes after I tell him, the breath leaves my lungs when I smell the spicy, delicious scent that has invaded my thoughts too often for the last several days.

  “Jamie,” he says with a nod as she gapes at him. He lowers steely blue eyes to mine, and my chest contracts because they’re not hard and angry like I expected. “Lucy.”

  “I didn’t think you were coming here,” I squeak, and he allows a half-smirk to cross his features.

  “I wanted to talk.” He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and slides a hundred dollar bill onto the bar before glancing at Jamie. “Would you mind if—”

  “Take her,” she blurts out, and I cringe. God, she’s not subtle at all. Grinning sheepishly, she tilts her curly head to one side and tries to smoothly add, “I mean, I have other plans tonight, so I promise it’s fine.”

  “Perfect.”

  My nerve endings tingle violently as he leads me out to his Challenger, and once I’m beside him in the passenger’s seat, I finally find my voice so I can ask, “Where are we going?”

  “My place.”

  We spend the duration of the fifteen-minute drive to his house in silence. Once we’re there, standing in his living room, he says, “I’m sorry it took me this long.”

  I blink at him. “You’re apologizing to me?”

  He gives me a brisk nod. “I should have done this awhile back, but I told myself it was better this way.” He closes his eyes and a rueful smile lingers on his lips. “I’ve never been so fucking angry in my life.”

  A painful weight drops into my stomach. “I’m so sorry, Jace, I—”

  “I’ve never been so fucking angry, and it’s because I cared for you. So I let you go like an idiot. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry it took me so long to react, when you were pouring your heart out for weeks. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you for saying that. Because it hurt that you wouldn’t hear me out. It hurt, even though I knew what I did was so wrong.” I swallow back the lump building in my throat as tears rush to my eyes. I feel so ridiculous crying, but goddammit, I can’t help it now. “I’m sorry for that, Jace. You trusted me, and I hate that I screwed up that trust.”

  “Then we’ll start over. Because I forgive you, Lucy—I don’t have any other choice. I sat there, telling you to fix things with your mom, and when shit hit the fan with us, I was a hypocrite. I’m not that person. I left things unresolved with my mum before I lost her, but I’m not going to do that with you. You’re too important to me. I’d rather move forward than let one mistake fuck up a good thing.”

  “I thought we were just casual,” I whisper.

  He shakes his dark head and takes a step closer to me, reaching out for my wrists and pulling me close to him. “You’re not casual, love. You’re the one I can’t get out of my head. Lucy-I-Know-Fucking-Everything-Williams.” I start to speak, but he stops me, pressing his fingertip to my lips. “You are everywhere. You’re still in my building. Still on my sheets. I heard that fucking awful song you liked so much the other day—the Craig David one—and I listened to the entire thing because I thought of you.”

  “That must have been traumatizing for you,” I whisper, and his lips move into a slow grin.

  “I don’t want you to work for me, Lucy. Fuck, I don’t think my clients want you to work for me, but I do want you.”

  Although I can barely breathe, I melt against him, and I’m lost when his lips cover mine.

  "I've missed you," Jace murmurs against my lips, his tongue darting in and out and blurring my senses. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  I never would have believed that just a handful of words could affect me so much, but suddenly, I can’t breathe. “I love you, Jace,” I whisper. Swallowing hard to relieve my dry throat, I open my eyes and I’m lost as I stare into his. “I love you, and I’m so sorry for what I—”

  "Shh, love," he says softly. “I love you, too. I have for a while.”

  For a while.

  Does he have any clue what that confession does to me?

  When I start to tell him, he cuts me off with his mouth. A raw, husky moan pushes past my lips as Jace’s teeth capture my nipple. An explosion shoots down my spine, arching my back and I buck my hips against his in response.

  The sensations he’s sending through my body makes me temporarily forget my apologies, but I promise myself there will be time for that later. No matter what I will make it up to him, but all I want now is to lose myself in him.

  "Jace—” The frustrated groan escaping my lips makes him chuckle, so he moves his attention to my other nipple, giving it a rough tug.

  "Dear God!" I scream, the fire launching through my body settling at my core. Every inch of me hums and aches, every muscle is so tight from the anticipation of being with him again that I know I’ll detonate if I don’t have him deep inside of me and soon. The desire to have him—coupled with the number his teeth are doing to my breasts—drive me absolutely insane. He grins up at the sight of my head tossing from side to side against the pillow.

  "Do you want more, love?" he rasps, his handsome face rubbing between my breasts. Dear god, why does this have to feel so good? He leans away and draws me up on my knees. “Tell me what you want from me.”

  "You,” I whisper. “I just want you." Because I love you. Taking my hand in his, he roams it down his torso, toward his erection. My eyes are immediately drawn to his cock straining against his boxer briefs. "I just need to have you inside me, Jace. It's been too long, and I just want you.”

  Without waiting for his answer, I move my fingers to his waist and tug on the elastic band until his boxer briefs slide over his hips. He doesn’t even make an attempt to hold back his smirk as he helps me, and my breath catches as he closes my fingers around his erection and jerks my hand up and down. “You drive me crazy every time I think of you. Because I’m crazy about you. I’ve never been in love—don’t even know how to cope with it—but I know that I’ll fight to keep you. No matter how many mistakes we make, I don’t want to let you go again.”

  His words make my heart both ache and sing at the same time, and I can’t find the right words as I bob my head up and down. “I’m so sorry, Jace, I—”

  He gives my ass cheek a stinging slap. "Stop apologizing. We’re done with apologies because I forgive you. I forgive you, Lucy.” I shiver as his eyes roam over my body in slow appreciation. Taking in my bra and panties, he gives me a pained look. “Take them off, Lucy, or I’ll rip them to shreds.”

  Keeping my gaze locked with his, I move my hands to the thin straps on my shoulder before Jace lays a rough hand on mine to stop me. "You’re too slow, love, and I have no patience to wait for you." His deep, sensual growl sends sparks through my veins, and my skin is on fire as he rips away my undergarments, tossing them carelessly on the floor.

  The feel of the cotton sheets beneath me draws a sharp moan from my slightly parted lips, and my teeth bite down on my upper lip to keep from screaming when Jace moves down my body, and I feel his warm breath fan the inside of my thighs. I clench my fingers around the pillows to keep from reaching down to grab his hair.

  My hips buck when the tip of his tongue dips between the folds of my sex to move in a smooth, circular motion. I see stars. I see stars already and he’s barely even touched me. His fingers splaying on my thighs, his tongue continues its
exploration of my sex, darting in and out until I’m breathless and begging him for more.

  "You're so wet."

  He says something else, something that will probably make me unravel a little more, but those words are drowned out by the raspy moans falling from my lips.

  “And you taste so good,” he’s saying when the buzzing in my ears stop. Licking and sucking deep on my clit, he continues until the climax hits me, and I’m practically singing his name.

  He moves up and over me until his cock presses against the opening of my sex. Releasing a rough growl, he pushes himself inside me in one powerful thrust. I let go of my hold on the pillows and lace my fingers into his dark hair as he pushes deeper. Harder.

  The sensation of flesh against flesh is almost too much to bear, and I’m trembling again when I lift my legs and wrap them securely around his waist. With each stroke of his cock, he takes a little more of me. Makes me want him more. Makes me fall a little faster.

  "Jace," I rasp when I feel the beginnings of another orgasm work through my body. "I'm going to come soon. I don't want this to end, but ohhhhhh … right there. Right. Fucking. There.”

  “Say that again, love. That naughty, filthy—”

  “Fuck,” I say. “Fuck.”

  The waves come crashing down just as the walls of my sex clench around his cock. He keeps going, pushing deeper, each stroke—each movement—creating a tension that tears me apart.

  Several thrusts after he makes me incoherent, Jace finally releases himself, a loud groan of pleasure ripping from his lips just before he tells me he loves me again.

  I lose count of the number of times we make up, but I know my body will ache tomorrow. That’s a feeling I’ll gladly welcome. Several hours later, Jace is fast asleep, one tattooed arm wrapped around my body and his forehead to mine. He’s breathing lightly, his warm breath fanning my face with each inhale and exhale.

  Reaching between us, I cup his face between my hands, biting my lip when he turns toward me, his mouth twitching even in his sleep. To be able to lie next to him again and feel his heart beat against mine is everything.