Chapter 5
Aubrey
Jamie keeps calling me his abayarde, and I wish I knew what it meant.
It’s definitely Spanish, but even after entirely too many hours of the app I’ve been using, I can’t remember the word.
If I had known he was bilingual, I never would’ve slept with him.
Not only did he ruin my pussy for all other men, but now I’m fucking swooning because of some cute pet name he’s given me… and I don’t swoon.
When I don’t take his hand, he pivots and walks toward the kitchenette, his perfect ass on display. I reach for my phone, doing a quick search for the Spanish word, misspelling it, but it autocorrects. As I read through a few of the possible translations, I grumble, mostly to myself, “Asshole.”
“I’m not an asshole,” he calls over his shoulder. “But if you’re up for it, I’ll fuck yours.”
Annoyed with his quick wit and finally knowing what the hell he’s been saying all night, I call after him, “You basically called me a fire ant!”
He returns to me with intent in his stride, cock already half-hard. “Give me your key card.”
“What? Why should I? You’ve been calling me a bug all night?”
“No,” he laughs. “I’ll explain later, but give me your key card.” He flaps his hand palm-side up expectantly.
I shouldn’t. Then again, he works here, and if he wanted to, he could likely have a copy made if he’s besties with someone at the front desk. “Why should I give it to you?”
“Because I worked up an appetite, so I’m going to grab my favorite dish here at the hotel for us to share.”
“You’re serious?” My eyes narrow. When he doesn’t budge, I cave. “Okay, fine. I’ve actually been craving something spicy ever since we touched down in Ottawa, so if your favorite dish has a bit of kick, I’m in. Card in my purse, outside pocket.”
“I’ve got just the thing.” His lip quirks up as he reaches for his clothes. “Don’t move. I’ll be back in a few.”
Once Jamie is dressed, he leaves with my key card, and the moment the door clicks shut I rush to the bathroom for a shower. There’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep well tonight without a quick clean-up.
After the fastest rinse-off of my life, I put on one of the hotel robes, and make my way to the kitchenette.
The bag Jamie brought in is still sitting on the table and I open it, finding a small box of tiramisu.
My stomach grumbles, and as much as I’d love to have a few bites, I put it in the fridge and wait for him to return with whatever magical dish he’s whipping up.
I retrieve a bottle of sparking water and wince as I take a seat at the table.
I’m a little sore, but in the best way. Smiling to myself, I let out a satisfied hum—turns out, all I needed was a little one-night stand to tame my feral hormones.
While I’ve had a few casual encounters over the past year, they were nothing like this.
This wasn’t a heated, rip-each-other’s-clothes-off sort of sex.
It was something else entirely. He was gentle but firm, commanding but checking in. And, God, that mouth of his.
A few minutes later, the click of the door unlocking draws my attention. Jamie enters, and the moment our eyes meet, my breath catches. Perhaps my hormones weren’t tamed after all. How the hell is he hotter now than he was twenty minutes ago?
He helps himself to a couple of plates in the kitchenette cabinet, calling over his shoulder, “Hope you like empanadillas.”
“You mean empanadas?”
“They’re similar, but smaller and crispier.
I convinced the chef to start making them in the other restaurant a while back.
” He sets the plate in front of me with three of the little buttery pies and explains, “They don’t serve spicy ones, so I had them make these with more love than they usually do. ”
“Thank you, but you really didn’t have to. I’m sure the regular ones are equally delicious.”
“Well, if it earns me more time with you this week, I’d say it was worth it.” He takes a seat beside me and breaks one of the little pies open with a fork, exposing what looks like beef or maybe lamb.
“What do you mean more time?”
“Eat up. You’ll need your energy for later.”
I typically hate when men tell me what to do, but I can’t deny that he’s not wrong.
I split mine open like he did, the steam wafts up to me—definitely beef.
I breathe a sigh of relief, since I’ve never been fond of lamb.
I nibble a little bite, and an involuntary moan escapes me. “Fuck, these are good.”
“Good enough to earn me a lunch date tomorrow?”
He can’t be interested in more than my pussy. Not only am I now makeup-less, I live in an entirely different country. My internal question slips past my lips before I can stop it. “Why the hell are you even still here?”
He smirks, then he lets out a small, huffed sigh. “Why not? I’d like to get to know you better.”
“Don’t you think it’ll look bad if we’re seen together?”
“It’s just lunch. It’s not as if I’ll have you spread wide on the dining table while I make you come all over my face in front of a world leader.”
I snort-laugh. “Fair.”
“So, is that a yes?”
What’s the harm in a little friendly meal in public? “Sure. We can have lunch together, but you need to keep your hands and mouth to yourself.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t maul you unless we’re alone.”
I don’t dare probe further about the insinuation that he’ll eventually maul me if given the opportunity. Unfortunately, I like the idea a bit too much.
We finish our late-night snack as Jamie tells me about tomorrow morning’s panel.
It’ll discuss children’s food insecurity and feature specialists in education, nutrition, and social work.
From the sounds of it, Jamie did a lot of the legwork for this summit, and I can’t help but wonder how much he knows about why I’m here in the first place.
A few months ago, on election night, Isaac broke his fifteen years of no contact with Olivia to congratulate her on becoming the youngest and first female Governor of California.
She didn’t even tell me—her best friend—that she spoke with him, because even she knew talking to him was a terrible idea.
They may have only dated for a few months in college, but she never truly got over him.
The next day, she volunteered at a woman’s shelter and it made international news.
It wasn’t a publicity stunt, but it certainly helped her approval rating.
She used the media attention to highlight a few of our campaign promises—including expanding California’s school lunch programs. President Taylor caught wind of it and asked Isaac to host an event to bring world leaders together to help children worldwide.
Livy was invited, and even though the last thing she needs is to spend a week with her first love, we accepted.
So, here I am, about to get snowed-in at this beautiful hotel with some of the most powerful leaders on the planet… and Jamie. He works for Isaac, so it isn’t as if I can avoid him all week. What’s the harm in leaning in? A little Canadian fling? It’s not like he’ll catch feelings, or I will.
Jamie clears our plates, pressing a soft kiss to my temple as he stands. “I’m going to take a quick shower. We should get to bed soon since we both have an early morning and I fully intend on waking you up with at least three orgasms before we have to meet everyone downstairs.”
Well, so much for not catching feelings…