Womanizer Heir (The Heirs Book 4)

by Brandy Munroe

  “Don’t laugh at me, Jackson.” I faked a pout. “You’re not the only one new to this relationship thing.” I took a step forward and laid my hand on his taut muscular chest. “I’m going to get my things and head out.”

  I traced his soft tempting lips with the pad of my thumb. I glided my hand down his taut abs and cup his cock through his slacks. He groaned out loud. He was hard and I was already regretting the decision I was about to make.

  “I need to think without this distracting me.”

  “What's there to think about, Angel?”

  There was something satisfying about knowing the smile on someone’s face was there because you put it there. It was equally upsetting knowing you were the reason it disappeared.

  “Jackson, this weekend was incredible. I want to move forward. Like I said earlier, this is new to me, to both of us. Tomorrow, you show up at my door. You, not your driver.”

  I poked him in the chest, “Why the hell do you need a driver in Tranquiltiy? It’s not like New York with it’s congestions and heavy traffic?”

  He shrugged, “habit I guess. It’s comforting to know I don’t have to pay attention to the road. I can work or catch up on email.”

  I snickered, this was the rich entitled side of Jackson I had not seen much of this weekend. It was going to be interesting to see how much of that lifestyle he was willing to let go of to be with me.

  I took his hand, “for our first date, we are going to walk my neighborhood, stop at some greasy dive, then you walk me home.”

  “Do I get to kiss you at the door?” His hands had made their way to my ass.

  “A kiss at the door on a first date would be appropriate. Maybe a demonstration might be in order?”

  He leaned forward and slanted his head, meeting my lips with a soft tender kiss.

  “Like that?” he asked.

  “Just like that,” I sighed into his mouth.

  He deepened the kiss and coaxed my mouth open with his tongue. I gave him free range, knowing full well where this could lead. My brain wanted to be sensible. My body wanted wanton abandonment.

  He pulled away and stared into my eyes. “Maybe I should save that one for our second date. I’ll help you get your luggage from upstairs.” He slapped me on the ass and turned away.

  Yeah, I was going to make it until tomorrow without seeing him. Without touching him. Without fucking him.

  Work, I would concentrate on work. Get my photos uploaded and edited for Wednesday’s meeting. First I had to get myself off this island and away from him.

  Out of sight, out of mind, right? Because that had worked well for me the past eleven years.

  I followed him upstairs and let him help me get my things loaded into my rental car. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He opened the door like the gentleman he was. One day, twenty-four hours. I could go twenty-four hours.

  Technically, it was more like thirty-six hours.

  I reminded him, “six thirty, casual.” I reached in my camera bag and handed him my business card. He noticed my address on the card and gave me one of his alluring smirks and panty melting glare.

  “Six thirty, casual,” he repeated in a sexy low growl.

  I silently willed myself not to look in the rear view mirror as I pulled away. I was afraid if I saw him standing there, I would turn back and fling myself into his arms.

  I tried not to let thoughts of the weekend distract me from paying attention to the road.

  It was fairly early when I arrived home to the rented loft above my photography shop. I was fortunate the landlord mentioned it when I looked at the studio space. I dropped my equipment off in the shop, then headed upstairs with my suitcase.

  I decided to return the rental vehicle. That would be one more task I wouldn’t have to worry about tomorrow. It was cheaper for me to rent a car on a as needed basis than incur the cost of owning one.

  Arriving home, I wasn’t sure if I was pleased that Jackson listened when I told him I needed time to think, or disappointed that he didn’t ignore me. A part of me wanted to find him waiting on my stoop. Another part was pleased he hadn’t pushed me.

  It was early afternoon and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I grabbed a late lunch and headed downstairs to upload hundreds of photos. I needed to sort them into categories.

  Wedding photos had to come to first. That was the entire purpose for the trip to the island. My reputation was on the line and not even my latest craving was going to derail that.

  I mentally chastised myself. Could I not make it through one afternoon without Jackson seeping into my thoughts?

  Was this what love was? Your every waking moment consumed by complex emotions?

  Was this why my mother let my stepfather treat her miserably? Was her love that strong, that her own self worth meant nothing to her? Would I unconsciously push Jackson away because I was afraid I would turn into my mother?

  I shook off that thought. I had already proven to myself I was nothing like my mother.

  I had made a life for myself without a man in my life so far. Yes I admit I had help along the way. But I never allowed anyone to tell me what I could or could not do.

  My work was my salvation.

  I prided myself in being a real photographer. As much as I appreciated the convenience of the digital age, I still believed photos from film had a certain quality you couldn’t capture on digital. It was why I used both method at each of my shoots. When I exited my dark room, the shop was dark as well. I had been working well into the evening.

  I stowed away my equipment and headed upstairs. After a long hot shower, I checked my phone. I had left it in the apartment. I did not want to be disturbed and I would not had brought it into the dark room with me in fear of it going off and the light ruining anything I had processing.

  I thumbed through my messages. A few inquiries about my availability. I grabbed my calendar and verified any double bookings or conflicts. I responded to a few emails, then checked my texts.

  Jackson: miss u hope you made it home safe.

  Jackson: back in the city.

  Jackson: you’re probably working, did I mention I miss u :)

  Three text all day. I tried to figure out if that was too much or too little. I knew I was over analyzing this. I should answer him, let him know I made it home.

  Me: miss u 2, was working all day. Going to bed now. Alone:)

  A few minutes later my phone vibrated.

  Jackson: goodnight. Sweet dreams, of me ;)

  Me: goodnight Jackson <3

  I tried to sleep, but it eluded me. I’d taken wet dreams to a whole new realm. I debated getting up and taking a cold shower. I reached in my nightstand for my electronic boyfriend instead. Something to take the edge off.

  I never realized how inadequate this little electronic toy was until the intimacy I shared with Jackson. It did the job, barely. If I hadn’t been so stubborn and refused Jackson offer to go home with him, I could have had the real thing. Not a substitute.

  Feeling slightly less wound up, I finally fell asleep. Jackson’s touch haunted my dreams. I was pretty sure I took relief again at my own hand sometimes during the night. I woke, groggy, to someone banging on my door.

  I threw on my bathrobe and answered the door, looking haggard and exhausted.

  “Jackson, what the fuck?”

  “It’s six thirty, we have a date.”

  He was leaning against my door frame. Dark jeans hung low on his hips. His button up shirt was snug against his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Did he get better looking since yesterday, or was I still in a delirious dream?

  I dreamt I wanted him here. That what was what this was. I was sleeping and Jackson was not standing there looking deliciously fuckable, his piercing blue eyes sending my insides girly part to mush, his luscious kissable lip, pouty.

  I stepped up and kissed him. He responded wholeheartedly. I ran my hands up his shirt and felt his warmth radiating off his body. He cupped my ass and pu
lled my hip into his groin. His fully erect groin. Erect and hard.

  Nope, not dreaming. Jackson was standing in my doorway at six thirty in the morning.

  I pulled back. “Jackson, what are you doing here?”

  “Good morning to you, too. That was one hell of a greeting. We have a date, remember?”

  He handed me a coffee and a bag. I opened it to find a chocolate chip muffin inside.

  “We have a date for dinner, six thirty pm.”

  “No, what you said was, ‘show up at my door. We are going to walk my neighborhood, stop at some greasy dive, then I walk you home.’ Here I am. Now go get dressed. I have a lot planned for today.”

  “Don’t you have a meeting with Richard today?” I motioned for him to come in as I took a seat at my small table and enjoyed the coffee and muffin.

  “All Richard wanted was a basic concept plan. I e-mailed him the mockups my crew came up with. I reviewed it last night and sent it off this morning. There will be a lot of back and forth before a face to face is needed. Besides, I want to include some of your photos and we won’t see those until Wednesday.”

  What he was saying made sense. He may not have to work today, but I did. I couldn’t spend the day lollygagging with him. If he wanted those photos for Wednesday, I needed to continue what I started yesterday.

  “Angel, you’re overthinking this, I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Jackson, I can’t play hooky with you today. You know damn well dinner means evening, even if that’s not what I said.” I was not sure my whiny tone convinced me, let alone him.

  He prowled over and scooped me into his arms. “I know you meant dinner. I woke up this morning alone in my bed. It didn’t feel right. I wondered if it didn’t feel right for you, either?”

  I wasn’t going to deny he was right. “No, Jackson, it didn’t feel right.”

  “I thought if I came over, we could go back to bed and wake up together.” His sexy voice, low and needy. “Can we do that, go back to bed and wake up together?” He brushed the side of my cheek with the back of his hand.

  I inhaled the scent that was him. Heavy with musk. Not the I just showered Jackson. The I tossed all night thinking about you and now I need to feel you Jackson.

  God, I did wanted him in my bed. I was not sure if I would be able to sleep, though. Could I let him lie beside me, holding me and not want more from him?

  Was I capable of simply sleeping while wrapped in Jackson’s arms?

  Chapter 20

  Jackson

  I took a big chance coming over this morning. I couldn’t turn my mind off. Being with Angelic was the only thing that made sense. I picked up coffee and muffins to soften her up.

  She answered the door, tired and groggy. Hair disarrayed, no makeup. Her robe barely tied revealing her tank top and boy shorts. She looked positively fuckable.

  That wasn’t why I came this morning. I just wanted to lay with her in bed and not wake up alone.

  I sent the mockups to Richard and explained a meeting at this time made no sense. I wanted to include some of Angelic’s photos and that meeting wasn’t happening until Wednesday.

  Could I convince her that waking up together was right? That waking up together every day was the only thing that would ever feel right?

  Could I do that in one day?

  “I thought if I came over, we could go back to bed and wake up together.” Say yes, please God, say yes. I kept my voice low. I tried to sound sexy but I thought I came off as desperately needy. I didn’t care, as long as she agreed and didn’t kick me out on my ass.

  She took my hand and nodded towards the door I hoped was her bedroom. I happily followed.

  Score!

  From the look of her messy bed, she had not slept much last night, either.

  I peeled off my shirt and jeans, leaving my boxers intact and attempted to arrange the covers. As I pulled them back, I caught her reaching for something and throwing it in her nightstand.

  I cocked an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.

  She blushed. “I was having a little trouble sleeping last night...so I took out my electronic boyfriend.”

  She could tell I had no idea what she was talking about. She slowly opened the nightstand and took out a pink vibrator, then quickly tossed it back in the drawer.

  “We are never to speak of this again, do you understand?”

  I nodded my head yes. If it got me in her bed, I’d agree to anything at this point.

  We got comfortable. We fit together perfectly, her back against my chest, spooning in complete harmony.

  “This doesn’t mean I’m going to play hooky with you today, Jackson. I have a lot of work to finish and a meeting to prepare for on Wednesday.” I heard her trying to suppress a yawn.

  “I could hang around and be your assistant. I could get you coffee, lunch, pick up your dry cleaning,” I teased. I would definitely do those things for her today if it meant I got to spend the day with her.

  She reached her arm over and scratched my sweet spot, the one spot that had me putty in her hands. “First let’s get some sleep, then we can see if you are cut out to be my assistant.”

  I could do that, sleep, then convince her she needed me waking up next to her every day for the rest of her life.

  The sleep that eluded me last night hit me hard.

  “Holy fuck, Jackson, it’s nearly noon.” Her screeching dragged me out of my slumbered bliss. I pulled her closer, not letting her escape the bed.

  “Jackson, I have to get up. I’ve got shitloads of work to do.” Her tone, although exasperated, showed no signs of resistance.

  She turned to face me. “A good assistant would make sure that I followed my schedule.”

  I did ask to be her assistant today. “I guess that means I need to go out and get coffee?”

  “Yes, coffee would be a good start. Letting me out of this bed would be another one.”

  My hand roamed her body and grazed a ridge on her shoulder. It was not the first time I’d brushed that ridge. A scar, covered with a tattoo of a semicolon. An odd choice for a Tattoo, I thought. I’d meant to ask her about it. I wasn’t sure now was the appropriate time to bring up something this personal.

  She was clear about getting to know each other. Something about this scar, this tattoo, told me it needed to be approached delicately. This morning while she was trying to get out of bed for work was not a delicate situation.

  After her shower, she gave me instructions to her favorite coffee shop. “Tip the barista decently or next time you go in, you may not want to drink the coffee,” she teased.

  At least I thought she was teasing.

  I did what she asked and made my way back to her studio. The place was incredible. Her equipment was placed elegantly according to what kind of photos were taken. She had stations set in different areas of the shop.

  “I like that you have each theme sectioned off. This must save a lot of setup time.”

  I wondered if her sense of order had anything to do with her PTSD. I read that people who have suffered need order. Another issue was the need to be in constant control. Angelic definitely had control of her environment.

  Being in charge of my new company was the first time I had ever taken control. I let my father’s money control how I behaved. I let the hordes of women who used me only for sex be in control of my personal life. I let my mother’s guilt control my emotions about relationships.

  I like the feeling of being in control of my life for once. I was beginning to understand Angelic. She needed the control. It had taken her years to gain that, just as it had taken me years to achieve it.

  “Do you want to see something really cool?” Her eyes lit up and shone like crystals.

  “Lead the way.” I could give up control to her. I think subconsciously, I already had.

  The sign on the door read DARK ROOM.

  “Angel, do you still use film?” I was floored that anyone in this digital age had the knowledge to pro
perly deal with the time consuming effort of processing film.

  “You bet. There’s nothing that can take the place of the quality of good old fashioned film.” She dragged me into the room. “I’m not currently processing so you don’t have to leave your phone.”

  I followed her to the row of photographs left drying on a line.

  “Look at these, Jackson. They’re amazing, aren’t they?”

  She was not exaggerating. The photos hanging on the line were nothing short of spectacular. There was no other word to describe what was before me.

  “I want these for the campaign.” There was no asking, no false accolades at how beautiful they were. I knew the minute I set eyes on them, I needed them. Untouched. Perfect.

  “I’ll add them to the portfolio.” She was direct, no games or scheming, hoping to cash in on her talent. “Doesn’t your own photographer have the equipment to do this?”

  I remained silent.

  “Does he work out of your office, or does he have his own studio?” She turned to face me like I should know the answer to these questions.

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I hired him based on his references and his portfolio. He had some really great work in them. Nothing like what I am seeing here, though. Shit, if I had seen these before his, I definitely would had thought the guy an amateur.”

  I didn’t want to diss my own photographer, but his work was nothing compared to Angelic’s.

  “I know I gave him a budget for equipment and an office. I guess that means he works out of my building.” I knew I sounded like I had no clue. Which I didn’t.

  “That’s ok,” she laughed, “we can cover that on Wednesday. Can you send me a copy of the mock ups. I would like to know what your vision is for this campaign. Just for reference. I don’t want to waste my time sorting photos that don’t fit the image you want to project.”

  I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I definitely wanted to see the photos of that beautiful sunset you took from the lighthouse.” I brushed my lip across her exposed neck. She shivered in my arms.

  She was not any more immune to the chemistry between us than I was.