Page 25 of Big & Bossy

I want you, and I want you for real.

One by one, memory after memory hit me like a ton of bricks. His scent, his skin, his warmth, his lips—it was too much. Distracting enough to send my guard crashing down, allowing myself to become enveloped in him.

My body betrayed my mind.

Before I could even register what I was doing, my lips were pressed against his lips, my body pressed against his body. My arms wrapped far too naturally around his neck, pulling him closer. He sighed into me, that faint taste of whiskey on his breath mixing with the familiarity of his mouth. His body had changed in the last ten years, had grown stronger, manly. I’d barely been able to keep myself from looking at it, but with him now in such close proximity, I couldn’t keep from feeling it nor did I want to.

“Fuck,” he grunted, one arm snaking its way back around my waist, forcing me to arch into him.

I could feel my heartbeat pounding against my ribcage as he kissed my lips, my jaw, my neck. My breath caught in my throat when his free hand roamed, crossing the border where my short skirt met skin, wrapping his hand tightly around the muscle in my thigh and lifting my leg. Jack held it to his hip, forcing me to hook myself on him, and dear God I knew damn well if he went any farther, I wouldn’t fight it.

“Mandy, your two o’clock is here.” Sarah’s voice cut through the speaker beside my head loud enough to shock me to my senses. “Would you like me to send them up or are you still busy?”

My arms fell from Jackson’s neck, my hands shaking as the sinking realization hit me. I let him kiss me. “Oh my God,” I breathed. I dropped my leg, forced myself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Jack’s arms reluctantly released me. He took a step back, putting much-needed space between us, and the smile that crept across his lips was so smug that I wanted to slap it off of him. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with the intimate aspects of this.”

“Oh shut up, Jack.” I needed to respond to Sarah. But I didn’t have the nerve to do it, didn’t have the willpower to leave this weird little moment Jack and I had cultivated. I watched him with bated breath as he pushed his hair back, fixed the collar of his shirt, and adjusted the hard bulge pushing through the front of his pants, a cocky smirk on his face.

He leaned forward and I turned, convinced he was diving in for round two, but instead he pressed his finger against the speaker’s button beside my head. “Send them up.”

“Jack,” I hissed.

He chuckled as he stepped away, leaving me slumped against the wall, shaken and confused. “You might want to fix your makeup before they get here. Your lipstick is a bit smudged.”

A second later, he was out the door.

————

My two o’clock came and went in a blur. I shouldn’t have accepted some of the ludicrous things that Angela, my client, wanted me to do for her home. I definitely should have quoted her more money. Or at least said no to her myriad of requests.

But I didn’t do either.

I didn’t know what to think, do, or say. My brain was too full of fog, too focused on what I’d allowed to happen between Jackson and I. Why did he kiss me? Why did I let him? It pinged around in my brain far longer than I wanted it to, sitting heavy like a stone in my stomach.

I was trying to rattle him, not provoke him. Wearing skirts and letting my hair loose was a step outside of my comfort zone, one that I was willing to do because I knew how much it affected him. I wanted to make his life a living hell, not my own. I wanted him to see what he’d left behind and what he could have had, not make him want it again.

Maybe that was naive of me.

Or maybe he was playing along. That was the only explanation that made sense and it was the only one that put my mind somewhat at ease.

Harry had tried calling me a few times. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t bring myself to look at my phone, not with the countless amount of emails popping up every second trying to get me to comment on my ‘relationship’ with Jackson. Constant DMs and tags on social media, half of them derogatory… I didn’t need that in my head.

————

By six o’clock, the crowd downstairs still lingered. They knew I hadn’t left yet and, apparently, they were convinced they’d get a comment from me the second I stepped out the door. Fucking vultures. I paced my office, trying desperately to think of a plan of how I could sneak out without being caught, but it didn’t seem there was one.

When was Jackson’s protection going to start? I groaned to myself as I sank back into my chair, resigned to sleeping here if I had to.

The door to our private offices opened. I straightened, a chill going down my spine as I realized any of the people downstairs could have easily come up, Sarah wouldn’t be able to stop them. It wasn’t exactly hidden which floor we were on.

I grabbed my phone from the desk, prepared to enter the three numbers we’re taught from birth to know by heart, as a shadow loomed at my doorway. Before I could scream, Harry’s head popped around the corner. “Still here?”

I breathed a shaky sigh of relief, my body still flooded with adrenaline. “Shit, man, you couldn’t have called out?”

“I didn’t know you were here,” he chuckled. “What’s with you? You usually aren’t so easily spooked.”

I leaned forward on my desk, dropping my forehead onto my arms. “I thought one of the vermin downstairs had gotten in.”

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