Page 54 of The Jilted Lovers Club
I take a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. “Maybe nottome,” I say, “but you seem to have a very strong opinionaboutme.”
“You’re right,” she says, stepping closer. She takes the coffee from my hands and puts it on the counter. She moves even closer, placing one hand on my hip and the other at my chest.
“Come on,” I murmur, looking down at her. I want to move away, but my feet are firmly planted on the ground. I feel dizzy from her proximity, completely consumed by her. It’s cruel. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you my opinion,” she says, her voice husky. Then she brushes her mouth across mine with the softest of kisses. Barely a whisper. Testing. Tasting.
And I break.
I grab her hips, pulling her against me like I’ve been waiting a lifetime. Her hands slide around my neck, and my mouth claims hers. It isn’t sweet—it’shungry.It’s all the conversations we haven’t had, all the tension finally snapping.
I can’t get close enough.
“Zowies?” Lottie asks.
I break away from Jordy, laughing even as the confusion sets in. What the fuck just happened?
“I don’t understand,” I say, reaching for the Cheerios and pouring a small hill on Lottie’s tray. “You said all those things to your mother.”
“And I bet you thought that call was about you,” she teases.
“Huh?”
“I was talking about my boss.” Her hand lands on her hip, and she gives me a pointed look.
It takes a few beats for me to register what she’s saying. “You mean, Alexander Winslow?”
“Yes,” she says, rolling her eyes. “We dated for a minute, before I started working for him. I realized quickly that we weren’t compatible.”
Just the thought of that man’s hand on her … I want to pop his fucking head off his body. I still remember that too wide grin he had as we went over the paperwork with Bob to sell The Till. Just knowing he aimed that slimy smile at Jordy makes me feel like I could commit murder.
“What’s his deal? Is he still fucking with you? I mean, unless you want him to. But aren’t there laws against that?” I clench my fists at my side, and she glanced at them, her face looking amused as her eyes flicked back to my face.
“I’m an independent contractor,” she says. “And did you not hear what I just said? No, I don’t want him. That’s what I was trying to tell my mom.”
I scroll back the mental tapes, trying to remember what I heard.
“You said I’m generous and putting a roof over your head.”
She shakes her head. “No, I saidhe’sputting the roof over my head. I’m paid well for what I do, and I get to keep my New York apartment thanks largely to that paycheck.”
“You said the money was an issue.” Even as I say it though, I realize what a fool I’d been.
“It is,” she says. “He’s made of money. He lives completely different than me. If I were interested in a relationship with him, it would mean giving up my autonomy and bending to his world. Money is nice and all, but it’s not everything.” She touches my arm, sliding it down until our hands clasp. “It didn’t matter if he bled money, I knew I’d never love him.”
There’s something in the way she says it—love—how she’s touching me when she says it. It makes me feel hopeful. We’re nowhere near the meaning of that word, but fuck, it feels like a possibility.
One that I want.
“And you?” I ask, turning toward her, loving the way her fingers feel laced with mine. “Are we unmatched?”
The corner of her mouth quirks up, and she shakes her head.
I lift her chin with my finger so that she’s looking up at me. “Are you attracted to me?”
She bites her lip, then nods.
“Even though we’re from different worlds?”
