Page 140 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

My stomach twists in forewarning.Dammit.I’ll be distracted all night if I don’t at least have a peek at the contents.

My heart beats heavy in my chest, my throat constricting as I set my clutch back down. The envelope scratches against my palm as I rip it open and pull the sides apart.

Eviction Notice.

Despite knowing this was coming, the weight of the announcement crushes me. I blink back the tears forming in my eyes. As an art director, I can’t afford this apartment without help from my dad. I look around the space, my home, and know that Bob Marché can’t afford it any longer either since he filed for bankruptcy.

Another knock is heard.Jackson.

I swipe my clutch from the counter, leaving the documents behind and hoping to forget about them for the night as I head to answer the door.

What am I going to do? Where will I go?

There’s no time to answer questions. Hell, there have been months to prepare, and I still haven’t come up with a solution. I was hoping for a miracle that didn’t come through.

A third knock raps against the door, this time louder. I can deal with this mess tomorrow since this might be the last time I get to celebrate. Whatever it takes, I’m determined to enjoy tonight.

When I swing open the door, I’m hit with a gorgeous smile and clean-shaven face that shows off the strength of the jawline. Jackson’s dressed in what looks like a tailored Tom Ford black suit, and the light in the hall shines in his blue eyes. I swear they twinkle for me when he winks. He looks so handsome that I momentarily forget that we’re nothing more than friends with the occasional benefits.

Jackson’s always been a bit of trouble, but trouble might be just the thing I need tonight.

Giving me the same smirk that got me into bed this past summer, he asks, “Are you ready for me?”

CHAPTER 1

Jackson St. James

If Marlow Marché knows how to do one thing, it’s torture me.

Sexy ass.

Tight dress.

Killer curves on full display.

Her gaze locks with mine from across the room. Our arrangement has been a highlight of the past four months.

Who knew that these added benefits with one of my closest friends would end up being the best sex of my life?

Or that sneaking around with her would be more fun than publicly parading any other woman in this city?

We’ve agreed it’s been fun to act like there’s nothing to see here, to pretend that I don’t know what it feels like to be buried deep inside her heat, or like she hasn’t made me privy to the fact that she likes to be bent over and taken from behind. We’ve fucked every way imaginable, yet with midnight fast approaching, I can’t stop thinking about kissing her tonight.

I realize now that I would have been content staying home on New Year’s, celebrating with her at my place or hers. Low-key. Order in. Have some drinks. Kick back and then have sex.

She’s been doing a fine fucking job of torturing me since the moment she opened the door. But now, from across the room—locking eyes with me as another man vies for her attention—it’s another level. Tired of the distance, I weave my way through the party, heading straight for her. Eyeing the curve of her exposed lower back where it meets the top of her ass, I lower my gaze to the short red dress highlighting her great legs and then back up. The graceful line of her neck is on display under a loose twist of her hair, drawing my attention to that spot I tease with my tongue near her ear that drives her wild.

It’s warm in here, so I tug on my collar.

Slowing when I pass from behind, I lean in close and whisper, “I’ll be on the balcony if you’re looking for someone to kiss, Marché.”

Turning back, I catch her gaze dip to get a good look at my backside before those bright blues reach mine. “And why would I be looking for someone to kiss, St. James?” She takes a sip of her champagne, acting prim when I know how she shreds my clothes when we’re alone. Those buttons don’t stand a chance against her desire to see me naked.

I don’t either, but I never did when it came to Marlow.

We may have beenjust friendsall these years, but I always gave in to her whims. And more recently, to her sexual desires. Not without a little,or a lot, of teasing as a lead-in. But we both benefit from the deal we made.

I tap my watch and wink. “Ten minutes.”

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