Chapter 23
JETT
Thank God I’m standing behind the bar where she can’t see what she’s doing to me.
When she drank from the place my lips had been, my cock twitched. Does she have any idea of the effect she’s having on me?
I have a sneaky feeling she does. Her actions are deliberate. She means to torture me. Cari the assistant would have asked for a new drink. Maybe even something non-alcoholic. Vacation has made her carefree, happier.
Wild .
I like it.
I like that she’s not in her usual pencil skirts and smart jackets with her neat little updos, putting me in my place and giving me icy put downs.
I like that she’s here with me in the bar at midnight. Drinking from my whiskey glass. Fuck. I’ve never had to jerk off as much as I have since we got here.
That first day, seeing her in that tiny little slip of a bikini, having to rub suntan lotion into her skin. Fuck me. I had to cancel my business meeting and take a cold shower. I couldn’t focus and I’ve had trouble focusing ever since.
Lately, every time I’m around Cari, I can’t seem to keep myself in check. The pent-up frustration is unbearable.
When did it start? I know exactly when it started.
And now she’s watching me, unsure of what to say next, her confusion palpable. Her lips part as if she’s going to ask something. She looks so damn good.
“Are you going to send me home?” she finally asks, her voice soft but uncertain.
I set my glass down, wondering where this crazy thought of hers has come from. “Why would I do that?”
“Because … it was a moment of madness. I didn’t mean it.”
“Didn’t you?” I lean across the bar, not quite believing how this evening has unfolded. I wondered if she would ever bring it up—the way she wrapped her legs around me, clinging to me for dear life, and then later, grabbing my ass and pressing against me. Instant hard on. She must have felt it.
Still, I’m not sure what exactly she’s referring to, but she can’t think I’d send her away because of that. This evening is fast turning into something else. “I brought you here for a reason.”
She frowns, as if she doesn’t understand. Or maybe she does, and she’s just not sure what I’m thinking.
We haven’t seen one another since then, and I sense we’ve both been keeping our distance. But tonight, the air is charged with a boldness, a simmering, sexual attraction I can no longer hide.
She’s crazy if she thinks I’d send her away. It’s the last thing I’d do, but she’s clearly rattled by nearly drowning. We never talked about her fear of water, where it came from. I always assumed she could swim, but she panicked the moment she couldn’t touch the floor.
Maybe later, after more drinks or when we’re lying in bed, she’ll tell me.
Stop.
I shake my head at the intrusive thoughts that have plagued me since we arrived. Why did I think it would be different? It started on the plane. I should have known better. I should have known I couldn’t do this.
But right now, she’s standing there looking vulnerable and strong all at once, and I can't take my eyes off her.
“I just thought, you know,” she stammers, “with what happened in the water ... maybe you’d want me gone.”
“You panicked.” I try to keep my voice level. “You were scared. Where does that fear come from? Have you always been scared of water?”
She looks away, embarrassed. “I’m really sorry,” she whispers. I notice that she doesn’t tell me.
“Don’t apologize,” I mutter.
“But I feel embarrassed,” she insists. “Humiliated, if you must know. I’ll understand if you don’t want me around. If you want to send me home.”
“Cari, stop this. You worry too much.” She seems overly stressed about this.
“I … I touched you inappropriately, Mr. Knight.” That sentence makes my cock turn harder. Not that I thought it was possible. I try to stay calm, to not acknowledge the raging current of need coursing through me.
Eyes filled with fear assess me. Cari only calls me Mr. Knight when she’s pissed off or making a point. I tilt my head. “Hmmmm.” It takes effort to keep my voice casual.
“You don’t remember?” Her cheeks are flushed as she lifts her glass to her lips but doesn’t sip.
Don’t remember ? It’s been looping around in my brain ever since it happened. I had to jerk off again as soon as I was alone. She has no idea of her effect on me. And now her lower lip looks plump and inviting. All I can think about is how badly I want to suck it, feel it between my teeth. Feel it on me.
“Maybe you should remind me.” I find this amusing.
She hesitates, turning a deeper shade of pink. “I’d rather not.”
“Ah,” I say, my voice dropping. “You mean when you put your hands around my ass and squeezed? Or when you wrapped your legs around me?”
Her mouth falls open, making the thoughts in my head turn even more dangerous. I swear I can see her nipples hardening through her dress. My heart skips a beat. This is turning her on. Why? How? She’s such a beautiful young woman. I wish I were as young and as appealing in her eyes as that fucker she went out with tonight. But to her, I’m old— ancient , even—as well as pompous and a snob. I know because she’s told me as much.
“Yes,” she murmurs, barely audible, her eyes wide and unsure.
I lean across even more, setting the glass aside, my hands clasped in front of me. Filthy thoughts rush through my mind. A floodgate has opened, and I can't control it anymore.
“I would never send you back for doing that.” My voice is full of dark promise.
Her eyes drop to my mouth. Her glass trembles in her hand as she sets it down. My gaze keeps going to her bare shoulder. I’m desperate to trace my fingers over her skin. To feel her softness. To drop a kiss or two on it. She’s not wearing a bra—that much is clear. “You’re not wearing a bra, are you?” I ask, unable to stop myself. There are no brakes anymore. I can’t contain my thoughts or my words anymore. Not around her.
She shifts back uneasily on the stool, clearly flustered. “Mr. Knight …” Her skin flushes a deeper shade of pink.
She must think I’m a monster. She obviously doesn’t have these feelings for me. “I-I’m sorry,” I say, panicked. I can’t even think straight anymore. “You’re right. I’ve had too much to drink. I only wanted you to know that you look amazing.”
She licks her lower lip, the action sending a jolt straight through me. “Thank you, Mr. Knight.” Her voice is shaky. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to get rid of me. Brooke is having a lovely time, out here. Apart from that episode with Madison and her mother, she’s really in her element.”
I love that she’s so focused on my daughter, but this conversation is about us. “I don’t plan on getting rid of you, Cari.”
She laughs nervously, but I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. “You couldn’t anyway,” she adds with a chuckle. “I already resigned, remember?”
I hate that she’s talking about leaving again. I don’t want her to go. I’ve never wanted her to leave, but I can’t say that.
“Why are you leaving?” I want the real reason instead of the generic one she gave me.
She looks down at her hands, avoiding my gaze. Her brow creases. I only realize that she’s struggling to answer when she doesn’t say anything.
“Tell me, Cari,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. I move back a little, giving her space because I don't want to frighten her. My thoughts are X-rated, but hers won't be. She might even be scared of me.
This collision course I've been careening on for months has brought me to this moment—I tried to move out of her way, tried to block her out of my thoughts by sending her on Alicia errands, but now I must face the truth head on. Because even though I'm her boss, I don't feel like it right now. I see her as a beautiful woman to whom I am ridiculously, impossibly attracted.
It’s not just because of her looks. Cari is a beautiful person through and through. But she also keeps me in check. On my toes. She makes me better. When the bear in me comes out, she stares me down and puts me in my place. She has more power over me than she realizes.
“I need ...” She chews her lower lip again. I know she's nervous.
A ray of hope explodes inside me. Does she feel this? A buzz of anticipation fizzes through my veins. I know when a woman wants me, when she's interested. With Cari, I've second guessed myself but here in Bermuda, I feel a stronger pull to her than ever. I’ve tried to suppress it—my feelings for her, the way I think about her. How I’ve been thinking of her, for many months now.
I’ve tried and now here we are. Something keeps me bound to her. Keeps her in my thoughts no matter how hard I try to dismiss them.
“You need?” I lean forward even more, stretching over the wooden countertop, hanging onto her words. If she needs more money, I'll give it. If she needs more responsibility, she can have it. But she looks somber, and now I’m scared she’ll think I’ve overstepped my boundary. She fixes me with her russet-colored eyes. I fall deeper, mesmerized by the bursts of gold.
“I need to get you out of my system.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My hands grip the whiskey tumbler so hard, my knuckles are white. Before I can say anything, she stands, grabbing her things, and rushes out of the room, leaving me behind with my jaw hanging, my mind racing, and my dick harder than ever.
Again.