Page 30 of Nailed

“The only thing I can be with you is an asshole, Sarah,” Jamie said, pressing his hands against the wall on either side of me. “Because if I wasn’t… everyone would see the truth.”

“And what’s the truth, Jamie?” I whispered.

“This,” he growled. Then he slid his hands in my hair and crushed his lips to mine.

The sensation of his tongue against mine undid me. Liquid flame burned straight to my core.

This. This was everything I’d wanted.

Jamie’s tongue probed my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his neck, melting against him, my whole body pulsing with need.

When he finally broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead against mine, his massive hand cupping the back of my head as if he needed to hold on to me to stay alive.

“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His voice was so low and deep I swore my chest vibrated.

In the lobby, someone laughed.

We should have separated. But it was as if there was magic strung between us, and if anything broke it, we might never get it back.

“I almost gave up on you,” I whispered. I could have said Ididgive up on him. But I hadn’t, had I? This was what I’d hoped—prayed—was under all that pain.

Jamie gripped my head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He kissed me again, this time with such tenderness tears broached my eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry. I needed you to hate me. It was the only way.”

“I could never hate you, Jamie,” I said, my voice shaking. My heart felt like delicate crystal, and I wanted him to hold it.

“I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you.”

Those words—they might have scared me. They probably should have. But my hormones were so amplified they were breaking the glass on the meter. “Make it up to me now,” I whispered.

He met my eyes, and whatever tenderness had been there a moment ago shifted, morphing into something thicker. More intense.

Need.

Voices sounded just then, loud enough to cut through our bubble. We pulled apart just as the group came into view—a half-dozen people with drinks in their hands, laughing and chatting like the world was still the same as it had been a minute ago. Jamie leaned against the wall opposite me, his arms folded at his chest with one hand up and rubbing his forehead like we were having some kind of confrontation.

But they either didn’t see or didn’t want to gawk at us, because a moment later, we were alone again, and he was on me, tugging my hair to expose my neck and ravaging me with his lips and tongue.

“We could go to my room,” I got out between kisses. My room was closer than his, just up the stairs.

Jamie released me, bringing his hand to my jaw. “Too far.”

He kept his hand there, his thumb massaging under my cheekbone like he didn’t want to let me go, but he stretched out and peered around the corner.

He took my hand, pulling me with him.

The only people in sight were the man behind the front desk, his eyes trained on the screen in front of him, and a cluster of people congregated by the entrance to the party, where the bass thumped to the beat of my heart.

To our immediate left was the massive Christmas tree in the corner—thick and wide and lined at the bottom with wrapped boxes. Past that were the main doors to the hotel; an inner and outer set separated by a large vestibule.

Jamie’s eyes shot to the hallway across the lobby, where I knew there was a conference room. But just then, the outer doors slid open. A crowd of people came in from outside with a blast of frigid air.

They were still in the vestibule. They hadn’t seen us yet. But in a few seconds, they’d be inside.

Now.

I grabbed Jamie’s hand, pulling him into the gap between the Christmas tree and the wall.

“Sarah,” Jamie’s voice warned as he stumbled after me.

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