Chapter 20
. . .
Drew
Will still has his left hand under my chin, demanding all of my attention.
I’ve never wanted a man’s mouth to cover mine more than I do right now.
I’m scared, excited, nervous, and hopeful. Of course I’m going to feel his kiss all the way to the tips of my toes, and when I do, he’ll haul me into his bare, chiseled chest and peel my soaked sleep shorts down my legs, just as he promised he would.
I want this. I know it deep in the pit of my gut, and even though agreeing to a kiss is the worst idea for us both, it’s surely futile to ignore its inevitability.
He looms like a Viking, waiting on me to finally give in and let him command the next however many hours between us. But regardless of my need, I’m still hesitant to throw caution to the wind and tell him yes.
Will’s lips inch closer to mine, and our breaths mingle.
It’s been so long since I last kissed a guy, and nerves flutter around my body like I’m a preteen at the school dance, desperate for her date to make the first move.
Fortunately for me, Will is the kind of guy who needs no encouragement, a confident grin overtaking his expression while he pins me in place with his gaze.
“How long do you plan on leaving me hanging here? I’m asking for a friend.”
His hand slides from beneath my chin to the nape of my neck, and I imagine this is his favorite way to kiss a girl. His large palm feels dominant, and because all willpower has left the building, I wet my lips on reflex.
“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” I counter.
“No,” he whispers into the shell of my ear. “I have all night and all morning, too, if necessary.”
I tingle all over, sparks firing into every nerve ending.
Women don’t stand a chance when it comes to the charm this boy can unleash whenever he sets his sights on what he wants.
“I …” I break off and force another breath into my lungs. “I want to kiss you, but I’m scared, knowing everything will change when we do.”
Will’s eyes drop to my mouth. “True. I’ll be insatiable, needing to taste you each chance I get.”
“And what about our careers?” I ask, excitement giving way to fear. “Nothing will be the same once we cross that line.”
His fingers toy with the loose hair at the back of my neck. “Or maybe nothing has to change at all.”
I balk. “Oh, come on. We both know I’d have to quit as your publicist, and then questions would be asked about why we could no longer work together, and then—”
And then he’s kissing me, and every single spiraling thought—positive or catastrophic—exits my brain as it fights to keep my body upright while processing how this could possibly be the first time we’ve done this.
It feels natural and spectacular at the same time. I feel like, despite knowing I’m not a virgin, this is the only time a man has put his hands on my body and truly made it count.
He promised just one kiss, although he never specified how long it would last. I hope it never ends.
“God, Jesus,” he mumbles against my lips.
“Don’t stop,” I quietly beg, and now he’s smiling against them too.
Will runs his hot, wet tongue across my bottom lip. “Do you want more of me, Drew?”
Since words have failed me, I nod and whimper, opening my mouth in response to his question.
He takes what he wants and palms the back of my head, driving the kiss deeper, until the lines of professionalism aren’t all that’s blurred.
He’s consuming me, until I’m not sure where our bodies begin and end, and with every stroke of his tongue, I’m happy to be the victim in the game of cat and mouse we’ve been playing since the day he helped me with my grocery bags.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When Colton assigned Will as my client, I anticipated the unexpected, but I always felt like I knew the man standing in front of me, who’s now pulling another strangled whimper from my throat.
In reality, I’m not sure I know Will Jones that well at all. At least not this part of him—the side that is soft and gentle.
Floating his fingertips across the waistband of my sleep shorts, he blends dominance with the right amount of respect, and when his hand dips an inch below my shorts and pauses, my voice is raspy when I say, “I thought you didn’t seek permission, but rather forgiveness.”
Will groans into the side of my neck, and when he pulls me into his body again, I feel how hard he is. It’s unmistakable.
I freak out, lurching back to put distance between us. “I—I can’t,” I force out, missing his hands all over me.
I’m cold without his touch and frustrated at myself for craving it at the same time. It’s like he can read my thoughts when he closes the gap I just created, although he doesn’t place his hands back on my body.
“I need you to be specific, Drew. Are you saying you can’t do this with me or that you don’t want to?”
And that’s the million-dollar question. The one that will keep me awake tonight in bed because I have to climb in there alone.
“I don’t want to do this.” The lie falls from my tongue far easier than I thought it would.
Will studies me for a beat, those dark brown eyes figuring me out like a mathematical equation.
Maybe that’s all I am—a challenge to keep him occupied this season because he sure as shit has the Rogues fans eating out of his palm.
Right now, he can do no wrong in the public eye, and suddenly, I’m hit with another pang of fear.
If any of this between us got out, then it would be my career on the line and not his.
I’d be branded the unprofessional publicist who took advantage of her position and bagged the hottest rookie.
No one would see—or want to understand—that we both played a part.
Ultimately, it would be me who paid the price, throwing away everything I’d worked for.
All because I had fallen into the same trap that had caught so many women before me.
The red flags are all here, waving around in the high breeze that usually precedes a full-blown storm.
I’d be a fool to ignore their warning.
I’m nothing but a conquest and another notch on Will’s bedpost—and likely one he’d go on to regret when everything went up in smoke.
“You’re a bad liar.” Will cocks his head to one side, waiting for me to confirm the truth in his statement.
He needs to leave, but I won’t be the one to ask him. Resisting a night together is hard enough.
When I don’t speak, he takes my hand back in his and walks me the few steps to the couch. I take a seat and stare up at him as he sets the duvet over my lap and picks up his shirt, pulling it back over his head.
“Where are you going?”
Will scrubs a hand over his mouth, and I know it’s to disguise his smugness. I sound about as needy as I feel right now.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He tips his head at my kitchen area. “Are you hungry?”
Starving. But I just took a six-foot-four hockey player off the menu, so my options are limited to the pink toy sitting in my nightstand. The same one I used last night while thinking about him.
I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
Still standing, Will leans over my body, his hands braced on either side of my head. Sexy confidence oozes from him. The gold pendant he’s wearing dangles from his neck, and on closer inspection, I see it’s a compass.
“How about a hot chocolate loaded with everything?”
“No,” I reply, wondering how I could justify our mouths accidentally finding each other again. “I already had one tonight, and I’ve been comfort eating all day. If I keep going, then I won’t get in the suit I picked out for New York.”
Will’s eyes lower down my body, bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. “Your body will always be perfect, and it’s not how you’ll fit in your suit that concerns me …”
“More how you will remove it later?” I finish for him.
He doesn’t say anything more, simply holding me captive in his gaze before he finally releases me, picks up the bouquet of freesias, and makes his way into the kitchen.
Will fills the sink with water and drops the flowers in. Next, he opens the refrigerator door and inspects its contents. I wince at what he must be thinking. Other than half a bell pepper and a couple of bottles of water, it’s full of everything he loathes.
“You don’t need to say anything, by the way. I can hear your thoughts well enough from over here, and I know they’re in breach of rule number four.”
Heavy footsteps fall behind me, and then I’m over his shoulder. He cracks his palm down on my left ass cheek, and I squeal in shock and delight, giggling as he maneuvers me until I’m exactly how he wants—legs wrapped around his waist and arms looped around his neck, like a koala.
With one strong arm beneath my ass to hold me in place, Will moves about the kitchen, making me the hot chocolate I didn’t ask for, but really wanted. To him, I must weigh nothing.
“Why are you comfort eating, Drew?” Will asks, shaking a can of whipped cream.
I watch as he squirts a generous amount on top of my drink and then moves to the exact cupboard where I keep the sprinkles.
Does he remember where I store them from the one time he helped put my shopping away?
My face burns when he finishes adding sprinkles and wraps a second hand under my ass.
“You should know that I would never ever tell anyone about us or what we do. It’s our business, and you’re safe with me.”
Us?
I reach up and absent-mindedly play with his chain; the compass looks like it was stamped into an old coin, which is weathered and worn.
“Is this meaningful?” I ask, attempting to deflect the conversation.
Will’s hand wraps around the one I have on the pendant. “I’m not answering that question yet, and anyway, you still haven’t answered mine. Why are you comfort eating?”
He sets me on one of the stools at the island and slides the hot chocolate between my hands. This is another element of Will Jones I never knew existed—patience and a deep intrigue in others.
Swiping a finger through the cream, I bring it to my lips, and Will watches me the whole time.
Inappropriate satisfaction curls inside me as I become aware that I wield a level of power over him I never thought I had. He absolutely wants this finger between his lips.
“I have my reasons”—the cream slides down my throat—“none of which I’m able to share as your publicist.”
I’m back in his arms in seconds, and he marches us toward the couch, sitting down with me straddling him. We’re face-to-face, nose-to-nose, and I know if I placed a palm over his heart, I would feel it beating at a rapid pace to match mine.
“Tell me, Drew.” His voice sounds pained, desperate. “You can’t play with me and claim that you don’t want something to happen between us and then suck on this finger”—he lifts it to his lips and kisses the tip—“like you’re imagining it’s my dick.”
Heat pools in my center. If I sit in his lap much longer, I’ll no doubt leave a mark on his sweatpants.
“I need to climb off.”
Will shakes his head and sinks his fingers into my hips. “You belong right here.”
More heat between my thighs.
“If I don’t, then I’ll need to throw your pants in the washing machine before you leave.”
The satisfaction I was feeling earlier is nothing compared to the way he looks at me.
“Do I turn you on, Baby?”
“No comment.”
He doubles down, grip tightening. It feels like he’s squeezing all the air from my lungs.
“What happens between us stays between us, Drew.” Will repeats his earlier sentiment.
“I don’t doubt that it would,” I reply, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean I’m safe. All it would take is for one person to see us and start spreading rumors, and my career would be toast.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he reassures me in a stern voice. “So, why don’t you go ahead and give me your next objection? And then I’ll tell you why that’s a nonissue too.”
I chuckle. “There are too many obstacles to list them all, and you won’t change my mind on this. I like you a lot, but the risks for me are too steep.”
Will pushes his head back into the couch and opens his thighs a little wider. I sink further into him—physically and emotionally. “Then I guess I have to be patient a while longer.”
He lifts me from his lap and tucks me under the duvet before moving across the room to retrieve my hot chocolate.
“Where are you going?” I ask when he hands me the drink and heads for the front door.
From over his shoulder, he just grins. “Heading back home so you can comfort eat a bit more and think about everything you’re missing with me.”
He winks, and I melt like the cream running down the sides of my mug.
“Have a good night, Drew. I guess I’ll catch you on the flight to Brooklyn.”