Page 11 of Jacob

She coughs as if finding her voice, then whispers, “How long have you liked me, Jacob?”

I sway my head slowly back and forth, not answering her.

“How long?” she pushes, her voice more demanding now.

I tut then say, “Don’t go searching for something that doesn’t exist, Skye.”

She catches me off guard when she turns in my arms to face me and I have to grip the vanity unit tighter to stop me from running my knuckles across her jaw. “Don’t. Push. Me,” I almost growl, desperate to hide the need for her burning through me.

She cups my face with her tiny hands, and for a moment, I stop breathing.

“Tell me. How long?” she urges as she tilts her head toward me slightly.

My breath hitches when I think she’s about to kiss me. “Nothing to tell,” I grit out as I pull her hands off my face and move back, ending our moment.

I walk in the direction of the door to exit this self-inflicted misery.

I unlock it, pausing but not turning back to look at her, because I’m not sure I have the restraint to walk away if I do. “There is no game to be played. There is nothing between us.And as of tomorrow, new rule: no more knee-high socks. Or I will fire your ass.”

She giggles.

Almost an entire week with her in London.How will I survive?

I slam the bathroom door behind me.

May the torment continue.

5

JACOB

One month later

Owen’s cheek rests heavily against the breakfast bar in my kitchen. With his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open, he’s drooling all over it. “I should go and see Skye tonight,” he slurs.

That’s a bad fucking idea, but I don’t say that; instead, I say, “You need to go to bed.” I knock back a huge glug of my protein shake.

Owen never deserved her.My Skye.

I add, “No woman on planet Earth will go within a mile of you because you smell like a pig swamp.”

“I don’t stink.” He pops one eye open.

“You fucking do. I can smell you from the front door,” Lincoln announces as he swaggers in.

Lincoln pulls a stool from my breakfast bar and makes himself at home as he grabs a handful of grapes from my fruit bowl, popping one in his mouth.

“Fuck off, pony boy,” Owen mumbles.

“Well, at least someone’s getting pussy around here.” Lincoln grins.

“I don’t struggle for pussy,” I lie. Well, I don’t normally struggle, but for some reason, since that night in my office, I can’t bring myself to call Verity to hook up again.

I’m lying to myself, too. There is a reason.

Skye.

“Verity?” Lincoln asks, chuckling to himself. “Just date her already.”

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