by Kim Jones
“Why don’t you enlighten me then?”
“Fine! I will.”
Oh, there you are bottle of emotions.
I stomp around the room and make a big show of flailing my arms. “You’re nice to me as long as you’re drunk or trying to get your dick wet. Saying sweet shit to me. Calling me baby. Treating me like, oh…I don’t know…a human! Then, the moment you’re sober and your cock is dry, you treat me like I’m a pebble in your shoe. And I’m over here, doing all of this to save your ass, when all I really want to do is drop you on it.”
He shakes his head while I catch my breath. “You can’t even come up with an original line to threaten me with.”
Though I already know, I ask, “What are you talking about?”
“That last line? The one about dropping me on my ass? That’s a line from Dirty Dancing.”
Hands on my hips, I glare at him while I scramble for a comeback. “Well…the fact that you know that line isn’t gonna make me like you. So…whatever.”
“Whatever?”
“What…ever.”
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me.”
“N-No.”
“Would you rather me ask? Fine. I’ll ask. Kiss me?”
What the hell is happening?
“No. I’m not going to kiss you.”
“I won’t ask again, Penelope.”
This motherfucker thinks he’s so…suave….
“Then don’t.”
“Done.”
Three steps.
That’s the distance it takes for him to have me at arm’s length.
Two breaths.
That’s how long it takes for him to reach out, grab me around my waist and pull me flush against his chest.
One kiss.
That’s all it takes to melt me.
I don’t even know why I was angry. I mean, it’s not like he owed me anything. I can take the good with the bad. Sure we had a spat, but if we’re destined to be together, that’s expected.
He pulls away from my mouth and lifts me around his waist. “You know why I can’t be nice to you?” Words fail me, so I shake my head as he sets me on his desk. “Because when I am, you get this look about you.” He pulls his shirt over his head. Rips open mine and groans. “This hazy, lust-driven look that drives my cock crazy.”
His lips find mine on a frantic, impatient kiss. I return it with just as much fervor. I’m a panting, wanting mess when he grabs the back of my knees and pulls me to the edge of the desk. “How sore are you?” The intensity in his stare warns me not to lie.
Desperation overrules all sense of reason. “Not sore enough to say no.”
He flattens his palm against my stomach and urges me down onto my back. The heels of my feet somehow find their way to the edge of the desk. My knees part and he’s there, staring down at me. Completely bare.
He caresses the inside of my thigh with the back of his knuckles before dragging his thumb down my slit. “You’re swollen.”
“Yeah, about that. I got stung by a bee. Doesn’t have shit to do with last night. I’m good.”
And obviously desperate to say some random shit like that.
He chooses to ignore my stupidity and pushes one, long digit inside me. “Fuck, you’re as wet as you were last night. Tighter than you were last night. You’re swollen here, too.”
Told y’all it was as big as a Coke can….
He removes his finger from my stupid swollen vagina to caress my thigh once again. He also frowns and has that little V of concern I thought was hot, but now I just find it annoying.
“It’s nothing. Really. I’m naturally this tight. It’s just my narrow channel, Jake.”
“Penelope…please stop saying narrow channel.”
“It’s the appropriate medical term.”
“Appropriate or not, I find it sexy as hell and I shouldn’t. Not to mention I’m trying to not go against my better judgement and take you hard right here on my desk, bee sting reaction or not.”
He said bee sting.
I giggle.
He glares.
“That cute little laugh of yours doesn’t help either.”
“Have you tried thinking about turtles?”
He says nothing.
“Bubble gum?”
More silence.
“Want to channel my energy?” I press my fingers to my temple.
He grabs my hand and pulls me to a sitting position. My feet fall with the movement and soon my legs are dangling over the side of the desk and he’s in between them. He does that hair tuck, temple touch thing. “I took you too hard last night.”
My body instantly ignites in flames. I whimper and shift on the desk. Lean into his touch. Reach out and try to pull him on top of me. He’s an immovable steel force.
“Let me take care of you today.”
Oh, now he wants to be That Guy and take care of me.
Now.
When I’m a hot, horny mess.
Well, this isn’t swoony That Guy’s moment. This is Jake Swagger’s moment. The fuck you with my big dick and you’ll take it and like it because I said so, Jake Swagger.
“If you really want to take care of me….”
“Mind out of the gutter, Penelope.” He sweeps me off the desk and plants me on my feet. Pushes the tattered shirt off my shoulders. Grabs his discarded one from the floor. Pulls it over my head then kisses my forehead like a fucking Daddy Dom. Which isn’t my kink.
“Are you trying to pout that hard or does it just come natural?”
Pout….
A very Daddy Dom thing to say.
“If you pull out a sippy cup, I’m gone.”
He eyes me a moment, shakes his head, then turns and walks out—mumbling under his breath, “The shit she says…”
Chapter Fourteen
So maybe swoony That Guy isn’t that bad. His timing is just off. Like this morning when I wanted him to care about me and he didn’t. Then later this morning when I wanted him to not care about me and he did. In the end, I got what I wanted. Just not when I wanted it.
Well…some of what I wanted anyway.
I’d already had my lady parts inspected on his desk. Then he’d ordered us breakfast—even asking what I wanted. I’d settled for bacon, eggs, pancakes, fresh fruit and some of that oatmeal from McDonalds with the raisins in it.
Did you know that Uber will bring you food? In a blizzard? They call it Uber Eats. That might not be a big deal to some people, but when you’re from a town where even the local Pizza Hut doesn’t deliver, hearing news like this will blow your mind.
Anyway, after that, I finally got those two Ibuprofen and tall glass of water, along with the demand to rest. Which is exactly what I did. Only I slept on the couch instead of his bed, because I was too full from all the shit Uber Eats delivered to make it up the stairs.
After a three-hour nap, I took a hot shower to wake me up. When I got finished with that, I was instructed to, hurry the hell up before I made us late. I started to complain that I had nothing to wear, but then I found an outfit already laid out on the guest bed for me. And every cosmetic I could ask for was lying on the bathroom counter.
I left my thick curls untamed so they were wild and crazy, but somehow stylishly cute. Spritzed them, my neck and my wrists with Chanel. Went heavy on the mascara to make my eyes really pop. Light on the lipstick so I had that glossy, natural pink, Kim Kardashian thing going. Marveled at my skin that glowed against the stark white, off-the-shoulder blouse that flared slightly at the waist. Thanked Emily for the Pilates class she signed me up for, which had tightened my ass and toned my legs, that looked really great in the black, leather, stiletto pants. And took seventeen pictures of the Louboutin heels that were white on top and red on the bottom.
“Penelope!”
I snap a quick, bathroom mirror, duck face selfie and send it to Emily.
Wait for her response.
Get the same one I get every
time I send her a pic.
The middle finger emoji.
“We’ve got to…” Jake’s voice trails off as he drinks me in, fucks me down, turns me on and twists me inside out all with a look. “…Go.”
“Do I look pretty?” I flash him a smile and curtsy.
“You look like dessert.”
Heat is just…it’s everywhere. Burning me the fuck up. I part my lips to get more air and pant while he takes his time looking at me. “Do you like dessert?”
He meets my eyes. “It’s quickly becoming my favorite thing to eat.”
Kryptonite…Still got it.
I’m feeling a little weak, too. The man is wearing a suit, which isn’t unusual for him. But this one? All black. Jet black. Even his tie is black. He looks like a CEO bad boy. And that big Rolex on his wrist isn’t helping to quell my desire.
I’m not a materialistic person or anything, but when you’ve only dated the kind of dudes who wear a Timex, you can’t help but get a little excited over seeing a man with a diamond encrusted piece of jewelry that, no matter the quality, still just tells fucking time. Like, literally. That’s it’s only purpose. Hottest waste of money ever.
The ogling between us lasts a minute longer before he clears his throat and grabs the black leather jacket he’d laid out for me. His hungry prowl is that of a panther. And I’m a gazelle. About to be eaten for dessert. Because I look like dessert. Or, so says Jake Swagger.
Even in these heels that are every bit of four inches, he towers over me. When he steps behind me to assist with my jacket, I have to take a deep breath to steady myself. He takes a deep breath too. Only his nose is buried in my curls.
“You smell divine.”
I turn to face him and the smoldering look he’s giving me has my nerve endings sending signals to my brain that result in me doing that thing I always do when I’m nervous. “Still not of the sea variety, eh?” River dance, finger snap, finger guns.
“You are so fucking strange. Anyone ever told you that?”
I waggle my eyebrows. “Only the people who like me.”
“It’s because they want you to change.”
I tilt my head and narrow my gaze. “But do they really?”
He grunts. “Let’s go.”
I’m shocked and a little flattered when Jake takes my hand. That fades when I realize it’s so he can set our pace—really fast. I’m not surprised when he huffs about having to slow down because I can’t keep up in these shoes. I’m not surprised when he gives me the stupid-stare in the elevator as I hum. Or when he keeps his head in his phone and doesn’t speak to me the entire ride to the restaurant. This is typical Jake Swagger behavior.
But it’s when we arrive at our destination that I discover a chivalrous side to Jake that makes this hopeless romantic swoon harder than I ever have. Like dancing, this isn’t even on That Guy’s list of must-have’s. It’s all Jake. Which somehow makes it even hotter.
The small Italian restaurant is tucked neatly between two massive brick buildings. The glass front with its view of the white linen covered tables, muted lighting, overhead awning and hanging baskets of greenery dusted in snow, looks like a picture of Paris. It’s a burst of warmth on what could be the coldest day in Chicago’s history.
But the front of the restaurant is just that—a front. There’s no door for entry. And the parking lot in the back sits a good hundred feet from the entrance due to the garden patio. I take Jake’s offered hand and step out of the car and into the bitter cold. The asphalt, though it’s been salted, is an icy death trap for my Louboutin’s.
With Jake’s hand still in mine, I feel positive he’ll catch me before I bust my ass. But I haven’t even taken a step when my feet are swept out from under me. I let out a squeal, and feel my heart sink to my knees.
Jake’s rumbling laughter cuts through the cold and hits me dead in my chest. Warmth spreads throughout my body when the panic passes and I process what’s really happening.
He’s carrying me.
One arm around my waist.
The other under my knees.
Looking down at me with a smile.
Closing his eye on a wink.
Teasing me with his words. “Those heels are for my viewing pleasure, baby. Not for walking on ice.”
Lord, please let this restaurant have ice chairs. Because I’m pretty sure these pants are for his viewing pleasure, too.
“I’ll probably go to hell for saying this, but I’ve never found praying hot until now.”
“H-how did you know I was praying?”
He laughs. Bites his lip to stifle it only to end up chuckling. When he sets me down just outside the entrance, he grabs my chin, tilts my head back and gives me a handsome, devilish smirk.
“You said, amen.”
Of course I did.
Chapter Fifteen
“Go Penelope!”
“Go Penelope!”
“Go Penelope!”
The crowd of people gathered around me chant my name as I stand on the bar of Chicago’s most elite night club and do The Running Man. I wave toward Amber and Mary, Jim Canton’s two daughters, to join me on the bar. Then everyone on the dance floor below joins in. Now the entire club is doing The Running Man.
Turns out, all Jim’s daughters needed to persuade them to sell their stock was to see the numbers in black and white. When Jake slid the envelope containing his offer across the linen tablecloth to Amber, the oldest daughter, her eyes went wide and she screamed. Then she showed it to Mary who also screamed. It took several minutes for their father to calm them down.
Everyone was staring. It was weird. And I was sad because I didn’t get to see how much the offer was. I mean, how much can an irrigation system cost?
Jim wanted to go back to the hotel room with Jake to review the paperwork before everyone signed and made it official. His daughters wanted to celebrate. So we all went back to the hotel and the guys went to the room. Me, Amber and Mary went to the hotel bar.
Things got a little crazy after that.
Jake, in a moment of stunned excitement, had very stupidly given me his credit card and told me tonight was on him. He’d also called Cam to come to the hotel bar to “look after us” and make sure we didn’t get into any trouble. When the girls told Cam they wanted to party Chicago style, he told them he knew just the place.
That was hours ago.
Now, I’m drunk.
The sisters are drunk.
Cam is trying to get lucky.
And Jake just walked through the door.
Black suit. Black hair. Square jaw. Swaggered walk. Eyes searching. Scanning. Appraising. Following the chant. Lifting up, up, up, and finally settling on my face. I beam at him, though I half expect him to be angry at me for…something. Getting the Canton Sisters drunk and convincing them to dance on a bar seems like something he wouldn’t approve of.
To my surprise, his lips turn up on one side in a sexy grin. I’m trying to stay in tune to DNCE’s Cake by the Ocean. But that damn face of his has a way of rendering me stupid.
The same man who treated us like royalty the moment I flashed him Jake’s black Amex card, walks up and greets him. Moments later, Jake is escorted to our VIP suite on the second floor. He disappears a moment from my view and my smile falls. Then it’s back when I see him lean over the rail, drink in hand and immediately find me with his eyes.
I’ve got it so fucking bad….
I look up and give him a little wave. He wiggles his fingers at me and smiles. I’ve never seen him so content. I wonder if he’s always like this when he closes a deal. Or if it’s just this one in particular. I make a mental note to ask him later when we’re alone. Maybe in those sleepy moments when we’re cuddling in post-coital bliss.
“I’ll be back!” I shout to the sisters who are too busy making a Cam sandwich to care.
I hold out my hands to two dudes below me and they’re more than happy to lower me to the floor. I can’t tell you what they look like. I d
on’t know. Don’t care. Doesn’t matter. They won’t compare to Jake.
The music dulls as I head up the stairs to the VIP suite. He’s watching me when I finally make it to the landing.
“Nice moves.”
“I know right?” I do The Running Man just for him. Then I switch to my river dance. By the time I snap my fingers and pull out my pistols, I’m touching his chest with the tips of my finger guns.
“That river dance of yours, though….”
I grin up at him. “Does something to you, doesn’t it?”
“Mmm.” His smile is wide. Teeth pretty and white and glowing in the black light.
“I wish you could’ve been here earlier. You missed me doing the Watermelon Crawl.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Someone had to work so the rest of you would have something to celebrate.”
“You closed the deal? It’s official?”
“We went over the details. But I need our lawyers to close. We’ll set up a meeting sometime in the next couple of days, depending on the weather, to finalize it.” His fingers ghost the neckline of my shirt. “Stay with me until it’s done.” He looks up at me from beneath his lashes and grins. “Just in case the sisters sober up and change their mind?”
OMG.
He’s asking me to stay.
Shit!
I’m not sure I can.
“For how long?”
He smirks. “Trying to play hard to get?”
I shrug. I’ll let him believe whatever he wants. But I still need an answer. And it takes him a few moments to realize I’m waiting on one. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. How long are you asking me to stay?”
“What’s it matter? Do you have to check your schedule or something?”
“Or something. How long?”
His eyes narrow. “A couple days at most.”
“So, two days? That’s it?”
“Yes, Penelope. Two days. Will you stay with me for two more days?”
I grin. “Okay. I can do two days.”
“You are so odd.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Like why you agreed to dinner with him and his daughters tonight if you weren’t doing it to close the deal? I didn’t think rich people did anything on their own. I figured you had a team that would handle things like that.”