Chapter 15
Fifteen
Marie
I’m reaching for my underwear, thanking the universe for the perfectly timed interruption to my moment of insanity when I hear…
“Like hell you are.”
I pause, mid untangle of my underwear from my leggings, and glance over at a scowling Jace. “Excuse me?” I ask, my tone bordering on dangerous.
“We just had that”—a nod toward the door, and I have the feeling that I’m not going to be able to look at those wooden planks of pleasure-bringers without thinking of Jace…and the pleasure he’s brought me—“and you’re just leaving?”
“I love my job.” I manage to pull my underwear free and step into it, pulling the fabric up to my hips. I need to make a pitstop at the bathroom so I can clean up, but I’ll do that far away from this dangerous man. “So, I need to go to the office.”
I want him again.
Against the door, on the floor, in the bed—anywhere I can have him.
So, I have to leave.
“You have to work?”
I nod. “Yes.”
And Angela Rosseau—my boss’s horrible ex—has now given me the out I need. Never did I think that I would be thanking that awful woman for anything…but tonight the world has gone topsy turvy.
I start turning my leggings right side out, wrestling with the material, my hands shaking from an orgasm that nearly obliterated me. The task is arduous because I’m—and they’re—so twisted up, but it doesn’t take all my focus.
No matter how much I try to make that happen.
I hear him sigh softly as he pushes to his feet.
I hear his footsteps as he disappears down the hall.
Thank fuck he’s not going to fight me on this.
I continue working on the fabric, turning the legs right side out and am just lifting my foot, readying to pull them on when Jace’s hand slips around my waist. “Here, cookie.”
My jump means that my back brushes against his front and combined with his hand on my middle, that phone call from Jean-Michel seems very far away.
Maybe I have time to?—
“Here, gorgeous,” he semi-repeats, and I glance down, my heart convulsing in my chest.
He’s holding up a washcloth.
A damp washcloth.
Fuck. Fuck .
He brought me a washcloth so I can clean myself.
I…I can’t with this.
Not his big, glorious dick. Not his strong body and teasing words. Not him bringing me a cloth even though I’m leaving when he wants me to stay.
“What is this?” I whisper, even though I know.
Even though I can’t handle something gentle, something sweet, something thoughtful…not like this.
Even though I really want him to lie and say it’s something different.
That it means nothing.
Or maybe…that it means everything .
“You need to get to work, cookie,” he reminds me.
“It was one time,” I blurt.
“You’ve said that before.” Still holding the washcloth, he bends, sweats hanging low on his hips and picks up his shirt, pulling it over his head.
“I have to get to the office.”
“You said that too, gorgeous.”
I did. On both counts.
So, I clamp my lips closed, reach for the cloth.
But he beats me to it, pushing the material of my underwear to the side and gently wiping away the evidence of our only one time .
And my traitorous heart pulses again.
Fucking hell.
Ignoring what that bit of care does to me, I yank up my leggings, not missing the heat in his eyes when my boobs bounce from me wrestling the fabric up my sweaty body.
He doesn’t comment though—just passes me my bra top.
Which is even harder to wrestle on.
And he doesn’t look away, those blazing hazel eyes locked on me.
I get lost in them, feel the heat begin to build in my belly.
At least until he turns away, releasing me from their hold. I scramble for my socks, pull them on, and am shoving my feet into my shoes when Jace crouches down beside me.
“Here,” he says softly.
I look, careful to avoid those eyes this time.
But I can’t avoid the sweatshirt he’s holding out, the care he’s extending again.
Christ, I can’t take this.
“It’ll be chilly tonight,” he murmurs.
“I—”
He lifts and drops a shoulder in a careless shrug. “In case you don’t have time to stop for a change of clothes.”
“I—”
He doesn’t reply, just pulls me up to my feet then tugs the sweatshirt over my head.
I’m immediately engulfed in the spicy male scent of him as the fabric drops over me, pooling beneath my butt, covering the top half of me in… Jace.
“I—” But I don’t get more than that out.
I can’t .
Because then Jace is touching my cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Go kick some ass in the office, cookie.”
He opens the door, and I start to step out into the hall, stopping when his lips come to my ear and his hand catches mine, “But I need you to know…”
I still, lungs catching, words forced out, “Know what?”
“That there will be more one-times , cookie.”
Then he nudges me forward.
And closes the door to his condo.