Not even a second passes before the door opens and Jack is stepping into the small space, his eyes burning as they rake over me. The air feels thin and time slows as he closes the door and turns the lock. A tension-filled beat passes and then we collide. His hand is in my hair, urging my head back as he takes my mouth with his tongue, thrusting deep in a possessive claim that has my inner walls clenching with the need to be filled.
I whimper when he pulls back, but his low growl promises he isn’t done with me yet. Turning me roughly, he pulls me into him back to front. He’s hard against my ass, his mouth hot against my neck.
“You knew exactly what you were doing with this dress,” he charges, meeting my eyes in the mirror in front of us. “Admit it.”
Pressing back into him, I gasp as he covers my breasts with his big hands, squeezing and kneading, setting me on fire. “Jack.”
Groaning, he grinds into my ass. “I think you mean, ‘Yes, Jack, I knew exactly what I was doing with this dress, and I’m fully willing to accept the consequences of my actions.’”
“Mmm, tell me more about these consequences,” I purr, arching into his touch. “They sound like something I might be interested in, but I want to be sure.”
“So difficult.” Taking my hand, he guides me to bend forward and presses it against the mirror. “It makes me so fucking hard.” He starts rucking up my dress, squeezing my thigh and then my hip as he goes. When my dress is out of his way, he stands back and, eyes blazing, looks his fill. I’m bent forward, that exposed stretch of my back arched, my hand braced against the glass. My lips are parted, my breath coming quick as I wait for him, ready.
Smoothing over the curve of my ass, he follows the seam between my legs and strokes over my damp thong before pulling it to the side. Pressing one finger inside, he meets my eyes in the reflection and starts to pump in and out.
“This is why, Laurel. This is why I can’t handle seeing your bare back in these sexy-as-fuck dresses. It’s because every time I do” —he adds another finger to the first, stroking slow and deep, twisting and flexing, driving me mad— “all I can think about is seeing you like this.”
The pop and pull of his zipper sounds, and I whimper as he slides his fingers free and slowly drags them up between my cheeks. He grips my hip with one hand and notches the blunt head of his cock against me with the other.
“Oh God.”
And then he’s feeding his thick shaft into me in one long stroke that ends with my lips parted in agonized pleasure as he presses against my womb. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All there is is Jack inside me, so deep it feels like he’s a part of me.
He starts to move, dragging all that heavy length back through a million sensitive nerves before sliding home again. Giving me a taste of that too-deep pressure on every stroke, making me clench and seize around him. Making me mindless.
His mouth is at my ear, his breath ragged and warm. “I know I should make this quick, give you what you’ve been begging for from the minute you picked out what you were going to wear. Take you hard and fast before someone knocks on this door.” He gives me a few dizzying short strokes before dragging himself all the way out to the head and then covering my mouth as he sinks home, hard. “But I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want it to end.”
Bringing one hand to play between my legs, he uses the other to cover my hand at the mirror, his fingers fitting in the spaces between mine.
He wants this to last, but when he rasps my name, low and reverent, I’m at the edge.
“Jack,” I beg, on a fractured breath.
He thrusts deep and then deeper. “You want me to say it, baby?”
“Please!”
Our eyes meet in the mirror, and he presses firmly against my clit. “Come for me, Laurel.”
And like that, I shatter. My world comes apart into a million pieces as pleasure crashes through me in relentless waves. When I have the strength to lift my head, I look up, needing to see Jack.
His jaw is clenched, his nostrils flared as he drives into me again and again. But it’s his eyes that steal my breath. He’s staring at where our hands are twined together, his ring gleaming bright on my finger.
My name grates past his lips and, gripping my hand in his, he comes apart.
Jack
“We should probably talk.”
I set down the coffee I had halfway to my mouth and raise my brow at Laurel, who’s watching me nervously from her perch on the counter. Words like those might normally be cause for alarm, but considering what she let me do to her an hour ago—and how much she liked it—I’m not too worried.
“What’s up?” I ask, moving in front of her to run my hands over the silk of her bare thighs. She’s gorgeous in my T-shirt and not one thing more.
Holding up her left hand, she wiggles her ring finger at me. And like every other time I see that glinting rock on her finger, I have to fight back the chest-thumping beast inside of me getting off on the visible mark of my claim on her. Even before we went legit, every time I saw that ring on her finger, I felt that possessive pull.
“I keep seeing you looking at this,” she says, twisting the ring. “I know it’s got to be weird now that we’re actually together together to have something that’s a symbol of our fake origins front and center all the time. And I want you to know I’ll take it off any time you want. We can wait until the deal is signed, or I can take it off right now. I just don’t want you to worry that I’m jumping ahead or that I’m going to have my feelings hurt when we downgrade from engaged to dating.”
Taking her hand in mine, I rub the band beneath my thumb. “What if I’m not worried at all? What if I like seeing my ring on your finger?” Understatement of the century.
Her mouth drops open in an adorably shocked gape. “You do?”
“I do. Laurel, this thing between us feels right. I know it’s new, but—”
“Really new, Jack,” she says. “Too new.”
“Hmm. But I bet June twentieth might not be.”
“Next June?” she asks warily.
“Yeah, it’s almost a year away.” Pulling her to the edge of the counter, I spread her knees and step between. “I’m thinking you might have a sense about whether I’m worth keeping by then, right?”
Her hands move to my bare chest, resting over my heart. “I can’t even imagine not wanting to keep you.”
That’s a very good start. Because I don’t have a single doubt. “Then how about this—we table this discussion until then. You keep wearing my ring and we go on as we have been. Come June twentieth, if you’ve changed your mind and think you might want a sportier model, you give me the ring back.”
Her eyes narrow. “What’s June twentieth?”
I let my grin go full tilt. “The moms picked a date.”
20
Laurel
I’m unloading my groceries when “Here Comes the Bride” sounds from my phone. Jack’s been playing with my ringtones again.
“Hey, handsome, what’s up?” I ask, putting the red-leaf lettuce and baby spinach in the crisper.
“It’s done.” Excitement laces his words. They’ve closed on the Devenport property and hammered out the contingent details for the development project too.
“Jack, that’s fantastic! We should celebrate—or are you going out with your dad? You should go out with him.” I lean back against the counter, grinning. “I’ll give you a private celebration when you get here.”
He makes one of those manly, groaning noises that sets butterflies loose in my belly every time I hear it.
“Actually, Don’s bought out the private room at the new place over on Randolph. Any chance you can be ready by eight?” Then lower, he adds, “We can celebrate ourselves after.”
I spend more time than I can remember getting ready. This deal means everything to Jack and his father—to everyone tied to Hastings Development—and I want to make him proud when we walk in together.
It’s going to be strange seeing his
parents, but Jack’s assured me they couldn’t be happier to hear we’ve upgraded our fake engagement to actually dating, with a possible wedding on the books a little less than a year from now.
I’m still not sure how I feel about our mothers planning a wedding, especially considering I haven’t even spoken to mine since Easter. Not that it’s slowing her down any. Heck, she’s probably relieved not to have me getting in the way of her plans. She can play the role of doting mother without ever actually calling me, plan the parties, and check all the boxes it’s so important for her to check. And best of all, she doesn’t even have to sit down with me for one of those painfully awkward conversations that always seem to end with her and Dad trying to convince me to make an appearance at one of their society events—not to have dinner at home more often or talk on the phone once in a while… they’re fine with the status quo on that.
I take a deep breath and push thoughts of my parents and their skewed priorities from my mind. I know they love me in their own way, despite my inexplicable choice to distance myself from everything important to them. And I’ve had years to come to terms with the fact that the only person I need to be proud of my choices is me.
So no more worries.
This night is a celebration, and that’s what we’re going to do.
At quarter to eight, I’ve barely opened the door and Jack has me caught up against him as he spins me around, his grin so wide it’s contagious.
“Jack!”
“Hello, beautiful,” he growls, slowly sliding me down his front and kissing me senseless before my toes even reach the ground.
“Hello to you too. Everything set for tonight?” I ask when we finally come up for air. God, it feels so good to be in his arms. To see his smile. To have him looking down at me and just know… this is real.
And like that, it hits me. Smiling, I touch his face, brush my thumb across the chiseled cut of his jaw.
His hand covers mine. “What’s that look?”
“I love seeing you happy like this.”
His gaze intensifies, his arms tightening around my back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I could see this face every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.
My heart beats harder. I love this guy. And for the first time, I realize that doesn’t terrify me. It makes me feel lighter while at the same time so full of emotion it begins to bubble out in a laugh Jack catches with another toe-curling, breath-stealing kiss.
I’m going to marry this guy.
Jack has a car waiting for us when we get downstairs. This deal means so much to him. I can’t stop smiling as he shares how the last negotiations shook out. Both sides had to make concessions, but he feels good about the deal.
Edith’s nephew, Don, isn’t Jack’s favorite person, but it’s because of him they were able to push the deal through.
“It’s a good thing you’re meeting him. I’ve got a feeling he’s one of these guys who’s always got some kind of benefit, gala, or event he’s sponsoring that he’ll be inviting us to.”
Then, as if reading my mind, Jack leans over and kisses my cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll only go to the stuff that sounds like fun.”
I smile, holding his hand. “I’m not worried.”
The society stuff will probably never really be my thing, but if I’m there with Jack, I don’t think there’s much I would mind.
We arrive at the same time as Jack’s parents, and before we’ve even made it inside, they are squeezing the life out of me, kissing my cheeks, and hugging me again.
Jack’s dad has tears in his eyes when he pulls Jack in for a hug. “Your grandmother’s ring sure looks good on Laurel’s finger, son.”
Jack rubs the back of his neck, and I feel heat crawling up my own.
“Yeah, Dad, well, I’m doing my best to keep it there.”
He could have told them anything. That we hadn’t quite figured out how to handle the whole engagement aspect of going legit, anything. But he tells them the truth, and I realize that I’m going to tell him yes. I’m all in.
Only tonight isn’t about us. It’s about closing this deal that was thirty years in the making and celebrating Hastings Development.
Inside, the host leads us to a stairwell that leads to the second floor where our private party is mingling with cocktails before we sit down to eat. There’s boisterous laughter and charged voices and, when we walk in, one person after another offering heartfelt congrats to the Hastings men.
Jack gives my hand a squeeze. “Good thing we’ve got the floor to ourselves.”
I nod, following him over to a table off to the side. This has to be Edith. She’s smiling wide, her eyes twinkling as bright as the piles of bling draped over her frail form.
Jack introduces us, and Edith offers me a trembling pat on the hand. “Matthews. Our family has done quite a bit of business with Matthewses over the years. What line of work are your parents in, dear?”
I’m about to answer when a booming voice sounds so loudly beside us I jump. “Hastings, about time you made it!”
Edith pats my hand again, her smile subdued. “My nephew, Donald.”
Jack’s broad shoulders are blocking my view as he claps the other man’s arm. He steps to the side to introduce me… to a man I’ve already met… and hoped I’d never have to set eyes on again.
“Laurel, this is Don Anderson. Don, my fiancée, Laurel Matthews.”
I can’t breathe, can’t move. Can’t do anything but stare as DJ Anderson takes my hand and, beaming widely, shakes it with both of his.
“Laurel, what a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Finally meet me?
There’s zero recognition in the eyes of the man in front of me. His face is nothing but sincerity and warmth. Such a far cry from the cruel sneer the last time I felt his fingers digging into my arm, his cold laughter at my ear.
Smiling in front of me is the man from my nightmares, and he doesn’t even know who I am.
Jack’s hand is on my back, steady and warm as I stand there mute, watching DJ lean in and tell him he knows what this deal means to the Hastings family. How much they’ve already put into it, and how much he appreciates that Jack was willing to partner up. How he sees great things in their futures together.
I want to pull Jack away. I want to tell him what happened and have him take me home. But I can’t even make a sound.
He doesn’t recognize me. What does that mean? That I’m just one of too many girls to remember?
Or maybe it’s that he’s had almost half his life to change. Is that what happened?
“Hey, everything okay?” Jack asks, leaning in and brushing my cheek with his kiss.
I could tell him.
Right now.
All I’d have to say was that Don Anderson is the guy from junior year. It would be enough. He’d have me out of this party in five seconds flat.
But Jack’s dad is pumping Harry’s hand, a tear in his eye as he gestures back to Jack. Who’s worried about me.
I can’t do it to him. I can’t take this away.
It’s one night. And after that, I’ll never have to see DJ again.
Pressing my hand over Jack’s heart, I smile at him. “I’m fine. Go celebrate. I’m going to run to the ladies’ room and then sit with Edith for a bit.” His brow furrows, and I force my smile wider. “I’m fine. Have fun.”
Outside our private room, the second floor is empty except for a single server bustling by me. “Ladies’?” I ask.
“End of the hall and around to the right.”
I thank her and head toward the back, needing just a few minutes to myself.
I wet one of the hand towels under the tap and cool the back of my neck.
One night. That’s what I keep telling myself.
He doesn’t even remember you.
This is for Jack.
I step back into the hall, ready to return to the party.
One night.
I’m nearly at the t
urn for the main hall, when suddenly there he is.
DJ.
I slow but keep moving, sticking to the right side of a hall too narrow to pretend I don’t see him.
He doesn’t remember you.
We’re about to pass. My head is down, my breath held.
At the last second, his hand shoots out, catching me by the arm and jerking me around to face him. I shrink back, but already his hold is too tight.
And the way he looks me over… he remembers.
“You weren’t just going to walk by and not say a word, now were you?”
“I—I was just—”
His fingers tighten, and I meet his cold eyes with a gasp.
“Looking a little pale, Laurel.” And then he’s using that hold on my arm to force me back the way I’ve just come. Back toward the isolated bathroom in the deserted hallway, with a pushbutton lock on the knob.
Icy fear slices through me as my feet lose traction and he shoves me against the wall beside the door. It’s right there. Less than a foot away.
His eyes bore into mine, telegraphing exactly what I’m afraid of. If he wanted to, he could have me locked in that room within a blink.
“Relax, Laurel. The deal’s been signed. Everyone is happy, right?” He makes a show of dropping his focus to my breasts and licking his lips. “I just came to say hello. But obviously you’re still making too fucking big of a deal out of everything.”
“I need to get back.”
DJ leans closer. “What? You don’t have five minutes for an old friend?”
I’m starting to shake. Five minutes. What is he going to do in five minutes? Frantic, I look up and down the dark hall that’s closing in on me. I think I see movement from the corner of my eye…
Jack. Please be Jack. Only once I get my head around, I realize it’s nothing, and my gut hollows.
“Looking for Hastings?” He laughs. “You better hope he doesn’t happen this way. Something tells me he won’t understand how you tripped and I was just trying to help you up.”
When you let me kiss you like that, I thought you wanted more.
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