CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Exactly noon on the dot, her cell buzzed with an incoming text. She scanned Sid’s message, her stomach horrendously jumpy. If you’re not down here in 2 minutes we’re hunting your ass down.

Yeah, she’d deliberately put off the inevitable like a complete chicken shit wuss. Now Sidney and Marissa were obviously on to her. It wasn’t so much about avoiding the boatload of grief rightly about to be heaped on her. Full disclosure—she wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, either. But she had no problem eating crow for the greater good. It was the least she owed Jack for the endless smack she used to talk about him.

What she absolutely didn’t want to face though? The queasy sensation in her gut insistently reminding her she was in way over her head—and her heart—with him. Sid and Marissa knew her too well. They’d see through any BS she tried to concoct about her feelings for him. Then she’d have to actually address all these squicky emotions giving her a bad case of indigestion. She’d have to put a name to them. The dreaded name. And who the fuck wanted to open that can of squirming worms?

Grimacing, she picked up her phone and shot off a reply. Be there in less than five. Grab me a slice of pizza if you’re still in line. 

Sid’s response pinged an instant later. Vegetarian, right? *ducks for cover*

She volleyed back with an appropriate barfy-face emoji followed by an equally suitable middle finger icon. That important task done, she slid her cell inside her purse. Plunking her chin in her hand, she stared at her computer screen, silently willing it to provide the answers to life. Or at a minimum, how the hell she was supposed to go about untangling this wretched mess.

The obsessive crush she used to have on Jack? Child’s play compared to the current insanity taking over her whole being. This exhilarating, sometimes nauseating, thrill-ride rush put the twistiest, scariest roller coaster to shame. Yes, there was the intense spark between them that never seemed to dull—hence why they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other. But it went deeper than that. For her, at least. It wasn’t merely chemistry. It wasn’t only toe-curling sex. It was a powerful connection...one she felt all the way to her sou—

Ugh. No. She’d already made the mistake of letting that word slip loose. Gotta keep it reined in before she completely doomed herself. She glared at her monitor. “You’re thoroughly useless.”

Reg’s voice carried from the other side of the cubicle. “Did you say something?”

Normally she would have jumped right on that easy opening, but she was too tired and edgy to put in the proper effort of fucking with her coworker. Damn, she really was broken. Sighing, she shoved up from her seat and hooked her purse’s strap over her shoulder. “I’m heading down to the cafeteria. Want me to bring you anything back?”

Being considerate proved to be a huge mistake, evidenced by the four minutes it took Reg to compile his complicated menu request. By the time he wrapped things up she’d forgotten half of his order and her left foot had fallen asleep. Probably from sheer boredom. “Restaurant workers routinely spit in your food. You know this, right?”

He gaped at her blankly. “Huh?”

“Nothing.” Pocketing the cash he’d handed over, she pivoted and schlepped toward the exit, her gait awkward thanks to her stupid numb foot.

Downstairs, Marissa and Sid were holding down the fort at their regular table. Spying the Modern Bride magazine wedged between the plates of food, Jane expelled a relieved breath. Something to shift the spotlight from her. Yesh!

Her besties simultaneously swung their gazes to her as she approached, their twin expressions of unabashed curiosity shooting the tail feathers off of her fragile hope. Shit. She dropped into the chair adjacent Sid and casually reached for the magazine.

Marissa swiped the periodical and thunked it onto her lap. “Sooooooo, how did this weekend go?”

So much for postponing the inevitable. She exhaled heavily. “I presume Sid told you about her run-in with me and Jack?”

“Uh...no.”

Aw, crap. This is what she got for assuming everybody on the planet lacked the ability to keep a secret. Well, she’d inadvertently sprung the cat from the bag. No stuffing Whiskers back in there after the fact. “Long story short, Jack is Master Kink.”

While Sid appeared understandably pole-axed by the news, Marissa only smiled. Frowning, Jane snitched a French fry from one of the plates. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes. I already knew he was Master Kink.”

She nearly choked on the fry. “What?”

Marissa cleared her throat delicately. “To be fully honest, I wasn’t one-hundred-percent certain at first. Not until Trig confirmed it.”

“What?” Apparently, that was her go-to word of the day. “How the hell does my brother know?”

Marissa’s cheeks reddened. “Don’t be mad at me, but I brought up the possibility of Jack’s alter ego to Trig after you mentioned you’d contacted the agency.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to swing that little tidbit by me?”

Uncharacteristic obstinacy stamped Marissa’s face. “Of course it did. But if I’d told you, you wouldn’t have gone through with your date. Which means you wouldn’t be sitting here positively glowing right now. So you’re welcome.”

“The glow is my pissiness burning through my skin.”

Sid’s hand shot upward. “Could we please back this convo up to the part about Jack being Master Kink? Are you saying he’s a gigolo?”

“Not anymore,” Marissa supplied before Jane could get a word in. “He owns the agency.”

“No shit.” Sid leaned back in her seat, her dazed expression a permanent fixture on her face, apparently. “Let me get this straight. He came out of retirement to have sex with Jane? I mean, he did figure out she was the one who contacted his company, I’m assuming.”

“Basically,” Jane mumbled.

“Interesting.” Sid stroked her chin. “Also interesting how chummy you two seemed at the store yesterday—two days after your initial date with him, I might add.”

Best to ignore the emphasized section of that observation. “Chumminess is required on Cookie Sunday, the holiest of days, you fucking heathen.”

“Uh huh. Did you spend the whole weekend together?”

The craftiest lie in creation wouldn’t bypass Sid’s BS detector. She’d have to strap on the Level Five evasiveness to navigate this loaded minefield “Maybe. So what?”

Marissa grinned. “You don’t do weekends.”

“Hell, you barely give most guys five seconds to find their socks before kicking them out of your bed,” Sid added.

“It’s a standing rule they have to keep them on. Huge time saver.”

“Precisely.” Sid gaped at her like she’d sprouted a second head. “My God. You’re in love with Jackass Brewster.”

“No, it’s lust. Entirely different thing.” Sweaty and overheated, she resisted the urge to mop her forehead, which would only be a dead giveaway of her nerves. Either she was suffering early hot flashes or the side effect of encroaching hellfire.

“You are soooo in love with him.” Marissa looked like she was seconds away from peeing herself in excitement.

Stifling her groan took up all of her energy. “This is the problem with you engaged people. Always wanting to sic that Cupid bastard on the rest of us innocents.”

Sid grunted. “Denial—apparently no longer just a river in Egypt.”

Wrong. She wasn’t in denial at all. She knew full well that little prick in Pampers picked her off with his fucking crossbow long before she did the actual dirty deed with Jack. But for the sake of her self-preservation, she was going to do what any sane person should do in a situation like this...

She’d studiously ignore the fact she’d been pegged.

~*~

This was an epically bad idea.

With that certainty orbiting through her noggin, she stared at Hunks for Hire’s bricked exterior.

On the other hand, she was the reigning queen of bad ideas. Shit, bad ideas came to her for suggestions on even worse ideas. Showing up unannounced to surprise Jack at work probably only scored a seven in the EBI handbook, all things considered. 

Clinging to that flimsy assertion like a sugar addict to a Krispy Kreme donut—or you know, her to a Krispy Kreme donut, because hello, they’re fucking delicious—she sucked in a fortifying breath and climbed out of her car. She’d spent all day devising a plan. There was only one guaranteed way to keep her heart ball-gagged. She’d have to put her vagina center stage. Not the best analogy ever, but it got the job done. Just like she was hoping to.

Her mission? Rocking Jack’s jockeys off. Well, that and appeasing her nosiness about his office space. She pictured something akin to the Playboy Mansion, circa 1970’s. Not likely the case, but one could dream.

She stepped through the front entrance. No leopard print or hidden grottos anywhere. Disappointment was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Hi, there. Can I help you?”

She swiveled her attention to the desk stationed to the left of her. A dark-haired woman she guessed to be in her mid-fifties sat behind a computer, peering at her above the frames of some seriously retro Cat Eye lenses. Clearing her throat, Jane draped her hand on her hip in a half-assed attempt at a leisurely pose. “Hi. Is Jack Brewster in?”

“He stepped out for a moment. Should be back shortly.” Unmistakable curiosity stamped the woman’s features. “You’re welcome to leave a message for him if you prefer.”

Right. Probably not the best route to go considering the sensitive nature of her booty call visit. “I’ll wait.”

“Sure. Would you care for some coffee or tea?”

With the way her nerves were already buzzing? Definite pass. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Okay. We have chairs over there.”

Taking her cue, Jane shuffled to the indicated area and copped a squat. Roughly two minutes after she did so, two men sauntered into the lobby. Judging from their too-close-to-be-coincidental resemblances to each other, it was a safe bet they were brothers. With their cover model good looks and evident dedication to keeping Lifetime Fitness in business, it was also a safe bet they worked for the agency.

Gigolo Brothers. Jack was a fucking genius. No wonder he could afford his mansion and Maserati. The next time she spent the night she was checking his mattress to see if it was stuffed with one-thousand-dollar bills.

The pair approached the desk and the woman sighed. Not in dreamy rapture, as plenty of females would have done in her shoes. No, this was full on exasperation. Easily recognizable, seeing how Jane was a frequent recipient of similar sounds.

The slightly taller dude parked his ass on the corner of the desk and cocked a smile that likely resulted in countless panties being flung at him on a daily basis.

“No.” Whatever unspoken question the woman was responding to, she was clearly having none of it.

“Aw, Mama Cherrie...”

Oh Lord. He had a slight Irish brogue. The hits just kept coming. Ovaries must spontaneously combust all over the damn place whenever he walked into a room.

Mama Cherrie squared her chin. “Forget it.”

“You don’t even know what we’re going to ask,” the second man prodded with an equally delicious whisky-dipped accent.

“Does it involve Andie?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then it’s a double no.” Mama Cherrie shoved her glasses further down her nose and gave both men a fierce case of stink eye. “Appropriate, eh?”

The seated hunk started to grumble something but stalled short as the door across the way opened. Jane scooted forward in her chair, fully expecting Jack to cross the threshold. No such luck. Although, the person ducking into the entry was certainly familiar. She blinked at Trig. “What are you doing here?”

Her brother swiveled his focus in her direction with enough speed, it was a damn miracle he didn’t suffer whiplash. He appeared equally mystified by her appearance. “Sis?”

That single word drew every eye to her like a tractor beam.

Mama Cherrie’s glasses dropped even lower as her eyes widened. “You’re Jane?”

Appears someone’s been singing my praises around this joint. Wild guess who it might be. Resisting the urge to chuff under her breath, she pushed to her feet. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

Mama Cherrie abandoned her post behind the computer. “This is more exciting than Christmas. Can I give you a hug?”

Like she’d say no to someone who put her in the same league as Santa. “Of course.” She squeaked an oof as the woman embraced her with spine-cracking enthusiasm.

“I call shotgun on the next one.” Tall Irish Dreamboat swaggered toward her with a grin and outstretched arms.

“Not if I beat you to it,” his doppelganger challenged as he cut in front of him with an identical wolfish smile.

As it turned out, she found herself squished in the middle of their cozy clinch the instant Mama Cherrie released her. Coincidentally enough, not the first time she’d been in a similar position, though she was wearing more clothes this time around.

The entry door swung open again and Jack stepped inside the lobby. She cleared her throat as he gaped at her. “Not gonna lie. It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Jack’s gaze briefly flicked down to the hand one of the brothers had wedged beneath her ribcage before returning to her face. “This is...unexpected.”

Hard to tell whether he was referring to her being group-hugged by his employees, or her being there, period. “I was in the area and thought I’d stop by.” Truthfully? Two hours ago she’d scribbled down the address from his website and decided to blow off work early, but why get technical about it? “Hope it’s okay.” With his shuddered expression, she wasn’t entirely sure what to think.

“Yes.” His clipped response fell several notches below reassuring.

Uncertainty percolating inside her, she slipped loose of the beefcake sandwich. Jack’s palm immediately curved around her hip and he herded her past the blatantly intrigued gawkers. Frazzled by his unreadable mood, she shot a wobbly smile over her shoulder. “Lovely to meet you all.”

The second Jack closed the door of what she presumed to be his office, she gulped down a thick lump of apprehension. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No.”

“Is that a no, I shouldn’t have? Or no, I’m wrong? Because it’s kinda impossible—”

He tugged her into his arms, his mouth cutting her words short. His kiss held a rough, possessive quality that liquefied her bones. Melting into him with a needy whimper, she slipped her fingertips through his hair and dragged him closer, parrying his tongue thrusts with equal ferocity.

He pulled his head back, the intensity in his eyes slamming straight through her. “I’m one-hundred-percent on board with you coming.”

She shivered at the sexy growl in his voice. “Was that unintentional innuendo?”

“No. Absofuckinglutely intentional.”

“Thank God.”

He reached behind him and locked the door before guiding her to his desk. After claiming his seat and settling her on his lap, he pressed his phone’s intercom button. “Hold my calls for the next five minutes.”

She chuckled. “There you go being overly generous again.”

“I’m in a giving mood.” He slid his hand under her skirt and inside her panties. A distinctly satisfied sound rumbled from his throat. “You’re wet.”

“All you have to do is look at me and it’s Soaksville City. I’m beginning to think you’re the Wizard of Orgasms.”

“Do me a favor and relay your theory to Knox and Sawyer the next time they cop a cheap feel. No point them wasting their time since they’ll never compete with my superpowers.”

Ah, so that’s what triggered his possessiveness. “Your misplaced jealousy is adorably sexy.” Twining her arms around his neck, she leaned in for another kiss. He obliged the request, his tongue boldly sweeping into her mouth the same moment his fingers strolled over her clit. She wantonly rubbed against his questing hand, her grip on his nape tightening. She broke their kiss with a gasp. “You’re not off the mark though. You’d give Orgazmo a run for the money.”

“I’ll take that as a challenge.” The smokiness of his gaze positively swoon-worthy, he eased two fingers inside her and effortlessly zeroed in on her G-spot. Lush ripples of pleasure shimmered along her nerve endings and she wiggled restlessly. He continued his exquisite torment, increasing the pressure with each passing stroke. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this scenario over the last year and a half?”

“What, finger-fucking me in your chair while your employees and my brother are right outside the door?”

He winced. “Damn, I forgot about Trig. He’s supposed to be helping me with a website redesign. This will be potentially awkward.”

“I once overheard him banging Marissa in a public bathroom. Consider your conscience cleared.” She groaned in protest as he scooted her off his lap. “Jack, it’s fine. I promise.”

Without warning, he bent her over his desk and yanked her panties down. Her pulse revving in anticipation, she struggled to lasso her breath. That proved to be a nearly impossible feat as she detected the metallic rasp of his zipper releasing, and a second later, the recognizable rip of a condom foil. A heady cocktail of excitement making her woozy, she gripped the edge of the desk. “Good grief. I’m seconds away from passing out.”

“Not until after you come.” He hiked her skirt around her waist. A waft of cool air from the AC tickled over her flushed skin, but it was his plump cockhead nudging her pussy that triggered her shiver. He pushed inside her a fraction. “This what you want?”

“You know it is, you teasing bastard.”

“No teasing intended. I fully plan to deliver.”

“Doesn’t seem that way from where I’m stand—” She nearly choked on her unfinished taunt as he pumped inside her with one hard, breath-stealing thrust.

“You were saying?” he prodded, sexy arrogance dripping from his tone.

Head spinning, she white-knuckled the desktop’s edge. “I...have no damn idea.”

“Good. I’m done with this talking business anyway.”  He backed up his stance by gripping her hips and pulling her tight against him, lodging his cock impossibly deeper.

Okay, clearly they were on the same page because speech was suddenly out of the question. Her groans, however, didn’t have any trouble sneaking past her throat. Mindful of the audience outside the door, she bit her lip, barely managing to smother the loudest of the incriminating sounds determined to rat her out. Being the devilish monster he was, Jack made her task that more difficult by cupping her pussy from the front, his too-skilled fingers playing her clit like a maestro.

The decadent sensations coursing through her made it crystal clear she wouldn’t last long before succumbing to the demands of her approaching climax. But, holy hell, she wanted it to never end. The hot, decadent friction of his cock. The slippery dance of his fingers over her clit. The forbidden thrill shooting through her veins. Every bit of it was beyond delicious.

What she craved the most? The man responsible for all of it. Jack. She was drowning in the sheer intoxication of him and had zero desire or sense to scramble for a lifejacket. Hell, she was completely in over her head. Done for. Even her damn vagina—her most trusted ally—couldn’t save her pathetic ass.

Her heart, her brain, her entire body buzzing from the overwhelming crush of her emotions, she trembled and reached behind her, grazing her nails over his khaki-covered thigh. “Jack, I—”

He ducked his head and sucked the side of her neck, the intense pressure of his mouth log-jamming the remaining words in her throat. Probably a good thing. Who the hell knows what might have popped out otherwise?

The tempo of his thrusts speeding up, he deftly circled her clit, pushing her past the breaking point. Thank goodness for his palm cradling her, otherwise she’d have one bugger of a bruise from the desktop. Even that likelihood would have been completely worth it in exchange for the mind-blanking bliss shattering her cells as her orgasm swept her up.

Jack’s free hand clamped over her mouth a millisecond before her ecstatic scream escaped, muffling the sound. She squirmed and shuddered, the overwhelming orgasm threatening to buckle her knees. His breath ragged, he tightened his grip on her, the telltale pulsing of his cock confirming he’d succumbed to his own release.

A moment later, he sank onto his chair, taking her with him. His harsh exhalations fanning her cheek, he hugged her close.

Incredible as the sex had been, this was equally addictive. Snuggled in his arms, the chaotic drumbeat of his racing heart steady against her spine. She’d never been much of a cuddler but it seemed to be her new favorite pastime.

Fuck, she was doomed.

He nuzzled his nose into her skin and chuckled. “That was a million times hotter than my fantasy scenario.”

“It was?” Needing to see his face, she twisted slightly in his lap. “How about next time I show up naked under a trench coat?”

His expression thoughtful, he stroked his chin. “By next time, you mean tonight, right? Ava has Sunny, leaving me to my lonesome. I was thinking of ordering in Chinese and bingeing on a Jurassic Park marathon.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Even the one with Chris Pratt?”

He sighed heavily. “As long as you continually remind me my ass is hotter than his while we’re watching the movie.”

“You’re assuming I’m coming over.” Like there was a shot in hell she wasn’t. But she had to make some pretense at playing hard to get. Never mind the fact she was sprawled in his lap with her underwear tangled around her knees. Yeah, best to overlook that part.

“I’ll give you the rest of the butterscotch bars if you do.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

Grinning, he leaned forward and offered her a quick smooch. “Can I help it I know the way to your heart?”

He did, all too well. Only it wasn’t cookies. It was one-hundred-percent him.

And she didn’t have one damn clue what to do about it.