Page 9 of Jacob

“Thank fuck for that. My father would never forgive me if we lost you.” He lets out an audible breath.

I push my chair back and pull myself to full height to face him, but I’m still tiny by comparison.

“What were you doing here on a Saturday night, Skye? Should you not have been out at a bar crying into your cocktails over Owen? That’s what Owen’s been doing over you.”

“I had no plans on Saturday and I had a great idea for a logo.” I pause to study his face. He seamlessly pulls off looking moody and handsome at the same time, which is no mean feat. “And I’m not sad about Owen.”

Jacob’s forehead furrows in confusion. “You’re not?”

“No.” I shrug. “We were coasting, and you know it.” I close the space between us. “I didn’t love Owen. Not romantically.”

“You didn’t?” His Adam’s apple slowly moves as he takes an audible gulp.

“It was fun to begin with, but when the fun ended, there was no foundation to our relationship. We ended up being friends with benefits.”

He winces as if he’s in physical pain.

I continue, “I’m not sad or mad.” I bite my lip teasingly, circling the focus back to him and me. “And I’m glad I was here on Saturday night, or I would have missed the show.”

“Did you like it?” he asks, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my cheek.

Unblinking, I reply in a whisper, “Every minute.”

He doesn’t respond, but his breathing becomes heavier.

“You have a beautiful body, Jacob. I like your new tattoos,” I murmur as I trace my fingers over the buttons on his shirt, knowing that I am skating on very thin ice and this could backfire badly but I’m desperate to see if he reacts.

He clenches his jaw, making the veins in his neck strain, highlighting his pounding pulse.

“I’m trying to be fucking good here, Skye. You aren’t making it easy.”

I look down to discover his dress trousers working hard to conceal his huge erection.

I sweeten up my voice, playing with him to get an answer. “You called her Skye.”

He pauses, letting his eyes drop down my body and then back up to my face. “I did.”

“Why?”

“I can’t answer that,” he replies, sounding almost pained.

“Do you like me, Jacob?”

He blows out a long, slow breath. “We could never happen.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Do you have feelings for me?”

Every inch of him smells like desire and sin, and his face looks like he’s fighting a battle with his conscience. Finally, he speaks. “You are Owen’s ex-girlfriend, and I have an agreement with my boys.”

“Is that the stupid pact you three made when you were fourteen?” I scoff.

“Yes. And it’s not stupid.”

“And all these years later, it’s still in place?” I lay my hand on his chest, trying to soothe the stress and anger that seems to surge through his body. He hisses as if I’ve burned him.

“Yes, our bro code still stands. So, I suggest you take your hand off me.” He grits his jaw. “And you have never been interested in me, so we have nothing to worry about here.” The hunger in his eyes tells me a different story.

“But what if I am interested now?” I skim my fingers around his shirt collar. To a passerby, I look like I’m straightening it, but they can’t see my fingertips skimming over his neck or hear the way his breathing reacts to my touch.

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