Chapter 24
Megan
Ijerk awake, startled, and blink in the faint morning light.
There’s a man standing over me.
Jameson.
“Hey.” His husky, velvet voice, low and soothing, caresses my senses. “Good morning, Miss Rivers.”
He seems to be speaking to me.
I look around groggily. There’s no one else in the room. “Who’s Miss Rivers?”
“You are. Jessica Rivers. Future bestselling author.”
Oh. Right. My pen name.
No one calls me Jessica, much less Miss Rivers.
Just him.
I blink at him. He stands by his side of the bed, diffused sunlight playing across his flexing abs as he pulls on a T-shirt. My gaze follows his hands as he smooths the shirt down, covering the generous package in the front of his boxer briefs.
Is he covering up for my benefit?
Well, little does he know that I’ve already seen it all, and have zero problem with any of it. Guilt creeps through me, but I try to swallow it down. How can I not admire him?
Every solid inch of the man is delectable.
His wavy hair is mussed, and he looks sleepy, incredibly sexy.
I instantly wonder if I have bedhead. And morning breath.
I push myself up on my hands, trying to function as I suck in a deep breath of the morning air that breezes in through the stirring curtains. “My gosh. That air. Is this paradise? This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.”
The smile that flickers across Jameson’s face is devastating.
Holy Christ, he needs to smile more. Even if it kills me. Swooning to death seems like a decent way to go.
“I’m going to get dressed and shave. Meet me on the balcony for coffee in fifteen?”
“Okay.”
When he turns away, I stare at his firm, toned butt. Which I can now picture naked, vividly. Flexing as he chased his release. Clenching as he ejaculated long and hard…
God.
Everything that happened in the night returns to me in a hot rush.
He disappears into the walk-in, and I collapse back on the bed with a maybe-I’ve-died-and-gone-to-heaven moan. The sheets smell of lavender and him. Sexy alpha male. I didn’t even notice in my nervousness last night.
Waking up to him, and feeling so damn good about it, peels back another layer of my uncertainty. I can feel it falling away like so much useless resistance.
We slept side by side, in the same bed, and we survived.
I mean, I came my brains out and he didn’t know that I knew that he did the same thing, and I watched.
But hey, we survived.
Which means we’re getting comfortable with each other, bit by bit.
Maybe it’s not that big a deal to him, but it is to me. I’ve never shared a bed with any man but Troy, and the last few years, I didn’t feel very safe, relaxed, or happy in that bed.
Right now, I’m relaxed. I slept like a baby.
I try to tell myself it’s the incredibly soft sheets and the lavender. And of course, the deep, intense, rolling orgasm in the middle of the night.
But Jameson put me at ease. He gets credit for that.
Which just makes me more uneasy that I spied on him last night, watched him in that intimate, private act. I’d kidded myself in the heat of the moment that maybe he was okay with it. Because, no doors.
But that was just a desperate excuse from a horny woman.
There’s no excuse for keeping something like that from him. It doesn’t even matter if he minds that I watched or not. It’s dishonest not to tell him.
But hell if I want to confess.
What if he gets mad? Embarrassed?
Asks me to leave?
All I know is he said he’s not having sex with me. Yet. I have no idea how he’d feel about me perving on him while he jerked off.
But I know I don’t want to leave. I’d be downright sad if he asked me to go, and pissed at myself for ruining this.
As I start to slide out of bed, I barely register the bedroom door opening before Clara strides in.
I startle, covering myself with the sheet as I do a quick side-boob check. Luckily, I’m covered, because she’s followed by a man.
He wears a white coat similar to Chef’s, and pushes a rolling food service cart in front of him, but he doesn’t look my way. Dishes rattle as he swiftly maneuvers the cart to the balcony. He opens the doors wide, letting in more fresh air and sunlight, and rolls it right outside.
“Good morning, Miss Hudson,” Clara says professionally. “I trust you had a nice sleep?”
“Uh, yes. Thank you.”
“If there’s anything at all I can do to make your nights more comfortable, please let me know.”
“I-I will.”
“Shall I get the shower running for you or draw you a bath?”
When I just stare at her, she prompts, “I can select an outfit for you and have it accessorized and ready for you when you step out.”
“Um.” I struggle with this information. “I don’t really have any accessories. I’m fine getting dressed on my own. But thank you.”
In the back of my mind, all I can think is Jameson cleaned up his mess last night, right? He wouldn’t leave that for his staff to deal with?
We stare at each other for a moment as my face flushes.
“I’ll get that shower running.” Clara turns on her heel and disappears into my bathroom, and a moment later, I hear the shower water distantly flowing.
When she emerges to find me still clutching the sheet to my collarbone, she suggests, “How about this? There’s a dressing gown in the bathroom for you. If you require any assistance or have any questions or concerns, simply pick up that phone.” She indicates the one on my night table. “Dial six and you’ll get my office. Or you can simply text me. That’s Mr. Vance’s preferred way of reaching me. I’ll send you my number right now.”
She pulls out a phone and taps out a text.
“I… thank you.” I’m not sure what else to say. I’ve never had a woman I barely know bustle into my room the moment I wake to offer to help bathe and dress me.
Jameson must’ve given her my phone number. And asked her to come help me get my day started?
“My pleasure.” Clara departs, along with the food guy, shutting the door behind them, and I exhale. Then I force myself out of the luxurious bed.
I had a shower last night, but that was before I watched Jameson make himself come, gushed in my panties, and masturbated. A quick rinse and fresh panties are definitely on the agenda before that coffee.
And just maybe… some kind of outfit that’ll make Jameson want to play with his dick again would be grand.
* * *
The multiple showerheads pound down on my muscles, warming my skin and massaging me to buttery contentment. By the time I dry off and head out to the balcony clean and refreshed, light makeup on, I feel reborn.
Billionaire life is working for me, so far.
Especially the billionaire himself.
I find Jameson alone on the balcony. My belly does a happy little flip at the sight of him, relaxed and waiting for me, lounging back on a cushioned outdoor dining chair. His sunglasses are pushed up onto his head, and the breeze licks at the waves of his hair.
Apparently, his idea of “shaving” is trimming his light layer of blondish stubble, and I am here for it. The man has the exact right amount of almost-beard for my liking.
I’m usually not a total morning person, but my eyes could die happy waking to a sight like this.
The balcony is in partial sun, and he squints a little in the bright morning light, his eyes following me as I settle into the chair opposite his at the table for two.
Then his gaze moves down, settling for a moment on my breasts.
I wore my most gravity-defying push-up bra with my most low-cut sundress. The one with the straps that always fall off my shoulders. Like they’re already doing now, the top few buttons popped open so that my cleavage jiggles in his face when I sit down.
I dressed this way after a brief argument with myself in the walk-in, because I’m winging it here and I decided that being a tease might not be so bad after all. Not if it gets a reaction like what happened last night.
Because that was a hell of a reaction.
The man either hasn’t come in ages, is naturally high yield when it comes to semen, or he was just that worked up about my presence in his bed.
I’m really hoping for that last thing, because at least that means we’re suffering in the same boat.
“Enjoy your shower?” His eyes skip away, then land on my breasts again as if drawn by magnets as I lean forward to take a sip of water. There’s no trace of anything he might be thinking or feeling in his tone.
He’s very practiced that way.
But after last night, I feel like I got a glimpse behind the curtain.
He’s used to being highly composed, in control, but I saw him lose that composure completely. I saw him helpless to the orgasm he’d unleashed, his body racked with pleasure, muscles clenched and gleaming with sweat as he came. Grunting with the overwhelming release as he struggled to keep quiet, and failed.
I realize he’s staring at me, a good half minute too late.
What did he just say?
“Um, the shower is amazing. I hope I wasn’t making weird noises in there. It was so luxurious. I wasn’t touching myself or anything, I swear.”
Holy Christ. Did I just say that?
My cheeks flush hot.
“I mean… not that I…”
Just stop, Megan.
The heat in his eyes as they graze over my cleavage, then my lips, hones into something hungrier before his gaze skips away to focus on the food.
“Glad you enjoyed it.” His tone is still neutral.
Very practiced.
“This is amazing.” I change the subject, admiring the spread before us. “Coffee,” as it turns out, is nothing short of a gourmet breakfast for two, complete with omelets in little skillets, an array of meats, cheeses, fruits, and pastries.
“I had Chef roll out some things I thought you might like. Rurik noticed you went to the market for fresh food a lot.”
“Yes. Spies are handy that way.” I eye him sidelong.
He lets it pass.
“We’ve got fresh berries, jam, honey, ham, eggs, everything sourced locally. I thought you might like a taste of what Vancouver has to offer.”
“It looks fabulous, thank you. What more could a newly engaged woman ask for on her first morning as a fiancée?” I smile tentatively.
He smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It seems like something’s troubling him.
It always seems that way, really.
I wonder if he’s always stressed out because of the pressures he lives with. Financial pressures. Family pressures. Fame, or infamy, depending on how you look at the kind of media attention he seems to get.
Yet he suddenly seems concerned about me, his brows drawing together. “If there’s anything you’d like, anything you want to be different, just let me know.”
“Thank you. I will. This all might just take an adjustment period. I’m not used to being catered to at this level.” And by someone like you.
“Well, you’ll get used to it.”
I doubt that.
With that, we dig in, and I make it my mission to sample everything on offer. Jameson watches me eat, his attention skipping between my face and my breasts.
Maybe I’ve overdone it with the open buttons. Without the straps holding it up, the dress is gradually slipping down and my bra is actually showing, along with the generous upper half of my boobs. But I just keep eating. I’m hungry.
Finally, I dab at my mouth with a napkin and sit back. “I can’t eat any more. I’m sorry. I’m stuffed.”
He says nothing, just sips his coffee, a strangely black expression in his light-blue eyes. It’s confounding. I’m seriously not sure if he’s irritated with me about something or wants to fuck me up against the wall.
Intense.
“So,” I venture nervously. “It’s Sunday. What do you do on a Sunday?”
“Whatever I want to do.”
The weight of his gaze makes me want to squirm, but I try not to.
“There’s nothing that needs your attention right now? Work? Billionaire stuff?”
“Maybe I just want to enjoy my fiancée.” He hasn’t taken his eyes off me. “Megan…” His voice is low and heated. “I can see your nipple and it’s driving me crazy.”
I look down. The perky demicups of my bra are indeed showing, my boobs spilling out of them. It might be a good vibe, seductionwise, except the right one is spilling over and my nipple has popped out.
“Oh my god.” I cover my breast with my hand.
Jameson tears his eyes away.
I try to keep my voice calm when I ask him, “How long has it been out?” I jiggle my boob back into place while he politely keeps his eyes averted.
“I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” His voice is tight. “I don’t mean to flirt.”
So, a while, then.
Great.
Bra in place, I slip the straps of my dress back up onto my shoulders. What am I doing? I’m no seductress. “You couldn’t have told me sooner?”
He swallows thickly. “It was distracting. My brain wasn’t working.”
I fasten the little buttons on the bodice of my dress and take a breath, confused by all his mixed signals.
No flirting. Okay.
But my boobs are killing his brain functioning. Okay?
He’s attracted to me.
But he doesn’t want to be?
Or something.
I clear my throat, grasping for something to say. Make a joke? Deflect? Apologize for my slutty breakfast attire?
I go with “I guess I’ll need to be more careful. You know, when we’re in public.”
He finally looks at me again, like he’s afraid I’ll be sitting here naked. His gaze flicks down to my now-contained breasts and back up. “We won’t be in public a lot. But when we are, yes, it’ll be different from what you’re used to.”
“I’ll try not to let a nipple pop out.”
His jaw flexes. I suppose he didn’t find that funny.
“People will come after you, try to get photos, ask you questions. That gets worse if you start showing off your… body.” His eyes drop briefly to my cleavage again, like he can’t help himself.
“And how do I deal with those people coming after me?”
“You don’t,” he says gruffly. “My security team will take care of it. Locke is the head of my team, and that kind of thing is now his concern, not yours. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
“So, Clara and your security guys and Chef, they’ll really all think we’re engaged?”
“Of course.” He searches my face. “Does that bother you?”
“No. I guess not. But I won’t lie to Cole. Since his little sister is now engaged to his best friend, and he introduced us so recently, I feel like we both owe him the respect of telling him the truth.”
“Of course. I already told Cole.”
“What?” I almost choke on my coffee.
“Just now. While you were in the shower.” He sips his coffee and seems to misinterpret my shock when he says, “Don’t worry. Cole will honor our privacy. So will my staff. They all sign nondisclosures, so even if they gleaned that the engagement was fake, they wouldn’t talk.”
“Right. Okay. But we could’ve told Cole together.”
His eyes sharpen as he studies me. I’m not sure if he’s irritated by my tone or what. That black look is back, and it seems half hot and half cold.
But then he nods. “You’re right. I apologize. Next time, we’ll do that. But if we want this to work, I think it’s best we keep the circle of people who know the details very small.”
I consider that. “So, I shouldn’t tell my friends or my mom?”
“I think it’s best if you don’t. But I’ll leave that up to your discretion. What’s the point of any relationship at all if we can’t trust each other?”
I like that. “And what about your family? Your other friends? Will you tell them?”
“Friends, no. I won’t lie to them outright, but they don’t need to know the details. But family… it’s just not in me to be dishonest with them. They deserve the truth on this.” He takes another sip of coffee, and I can sense the tension there.
“I understand if you don’t want to get into detail about your love life with your siblings,” I offer.
“I usually don’t.”
“I don’t either. The dirty details aren’t really Cole’s business.”
“I agree. My family has been butting into my personal life lately, and I don’t mind clarifying the boundaries for them.”
“You’re talking about your brother pushing you to get engaged.”
“Yes. That’s part of it.”
“But you got engaged.”
“Because he was right. I don’t like the way he went about it, but he was right.”
“Right about what?”
He studies me for a long moment in that way that makes me forget I’m supposed to be breathing over here. Then he says, “Maybe he understands me in ways I’d rather he didn’t.”
“I get it. Cole knows me better than I want him to, sometimes. It’s a big-brother thing. They think they know what’s best for us.”
“Sometimes, they do.” He smiles a little, and I can’t help smiling back. “It’s infuriating.”
“It is.” I laugh softly. “So, what does your brother have on you? Was this a blackmail thing? Be honest.”
His smile fades. “No. But I’ve had some high-profile relationships that he disapproved of. Some of them attracted a lot of media attention. And it wasn’t always good attention. The way Graysen saw it, I broke the long-standing rule to protect our family’s privacy.”
“You must’ve had reasons.” I venture, “Strong feelings for those women.”
“I did have reasons. But not feelings. If I’m in the media, it’s generally because I choose to be. It’s all part of the marketing machine. My brother doesn’t understand that, or how necessary it is.”
I consider that. “But he wants your engagement in the media. Instead of the other media attention?”
“Yes.”
“Will that work? I mean, is it really one or the other?”
I hold his burning gaze as he takes way too long to answer that, and a trickle of sweat runs down my back. I tell myself it’s the sun, but it’s the man sitting across from me who’s burning up the atmosphere.
Finally, he says, “Graysen seems to think so. And I have a feeling the media will love you. Us, I mean.”
Yikes. The thought of myself inthe media is not something I’ve warmed to yet. I just keep reminding myself I’ll be on his arm, like that will make me feel better about it, but I’m not so sure.
What if all his gloriousness just makes me look like a cave troll in comparison?
What if people troll me, just because I’m on his arm and they think I shouldn’t be?
They probably will.
And just like getting a scathing review on one of your books, you’ll cry your face off, binge a bucket of ice cream, and move on.
“I still can’t believe I made any kind of positive impression on Graysen,” I tell him.
“Why not?”
“Well, I flung mud on your sofa. I made a scene, and quit my job in a very unprofessional way. I reamed you out in front of him.”
The crooked smile he gives me is fucking adorable. “I believe that’s the part he enjoyed the most.”
“Shit. He thinks I’m trouble.”
“Not at all. He’d never want to see me with ‘trouble.’”
I struggle for a response to that. The implication being that I’m the opposite of trouble?
Like, Jameson’s brother thinks I’m good for him?
I sip my coffee just for something to do, as this morning keeps growing hotter. Jameson just keeps looking at me, and somehow, I didn’t know that would be the hardest part. It was almost easier lying next to him in bed, in the dark. Here, I have nowhere to hide.
I need sunscreen to deal with my new fiancé. I’m burning out here.
“Look, I don’t mean to sound insecure or anything,” I tell him. “I think I’m all right. But you’ll have to excuse me if I just never saw myself as the kind of woman who’d attract the attention of a billionaire.”
“Do you mean my brother or me?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. He’s teasing me, maybe.
“I guess… both of you.”
“Then maybe the way you see yourself is not the full picture.” He adds casually, “Maybe, Megan Hudson, you don’t know how rare you are.”
Rare?
What does he mean by that?
I’m not special. Not like he is.
I decide to change the subject again. “So, you really just do whatever you want on Sundays?”
“I do whatever I want every day.”
“Wow. Now that’s freedom.”
“Yes, but I do work. I like to keep busy, and I don’t often sit still for long. Usually that means a lot of travel. Do you like to travel?”
“I don’t know. I never have.”
“Then we’ll soon find out.”
“We will?”
“I’m sure we will. Today, I’ll be getting my team up to speed. I wasn’t planning any travel for a few weeks, but that might change now. And everyone needs to know I’ve got a plus one now. You’ll go where I go.”
“Right.” My heart pounds at the thought of being his plus one. Fancy galas and posh, private clubs attended by the world’s elite flash through my mind, making my limbs feel shaky.
Good thing he’s strong. He might have to hold me up while he drags me down all those red carpets he seems so fond of.
“And,” he adds, “you’ll have your own security detail. That part is necessary.”
“Oh. Okay.” I guess that won’t be much different from the way things have been these last couple of weeks anyway, his guys shadowing me around.
Then he kills me with “You’re part of the Vance family now, and our security is high at all times.”
I think I squeak out a response to that.
“We can video call Cole later today, talk to him together, like you wanted,” he continues, like I’m not almost fainting over here. “I’ll get that arranged. And tonight, we’ll have dinner with my family. We need to tell them in person. Then we’ll make a public announcement.”
Oh, Jesus. And Mary. My nerves are flipping out already. I’m not religious, but I’m thinking I’ll start praying to every biblical figure I’ve ever heard of to help me get through this. Can’t hurt, right?
I can’t even decide if I’m more nervous about facing his family, acting as his fiancée in front of them and trying to convince them that Jameson made the right choice in me, or in front of the world.
“I’ll make the dinner arrangements and let you know what time to be ready, once I know,” he tells me. “I have a preexisting lunch meeting, so I’ll be out of the house for a few hours. I want you to feel at home here, whether I’m here or not. The staff are now here for you as well. Don’t hesitate to ask them for anything.”
“Okay…”
“And Clara will coordinate with you today, everything you need.”
“Need?”
I’m not even sure what I could possibly need that he hasn’t already offered me.
But Jameson doesn’t elaborate. He just gives me that rare, killer smile that makes me inwardly swoon.