Chapter 20 Too Close
Too Close
SARAH
Several hours later, my ex-husband was the last thing on my mind. My voice was hoarse and my legs weary from pacing Jamie’s room. He’d made me repeat my presentation about a hundred times. It was good, he said, but it still didn’t sound like me.
“Do you believe in what you’re saying, Cooper?”
“Yes!” I was frustrated. He was calling me Cooper again.
He was Dick Boss again. Sort of.
“Show me. Forget about them. Show me.”
I tweaked it. And tweaked it again. I spoke, and Jamie kept saying Stop. Do it again.
I was just about ready to tell him to forget it and go back to what I had written down in the first place.
That’s when Jamie opened the minibar and held up a tiny bottle of whiskey. “It could relax you. Not a requirement at all but—”
“Give it to me,” I said, too tired for pleasantries.
I’d just been thinking earlier of how I missed the peppermints Reilly Contracting kept in the boardroom that always calmed me down.
Same with the photos of the hills around Quince Valley on the walls; evening shots with the stars visible in the darkness overhead.
Seeing the stars helped me remember how meaningless my nerves were compared to the vastness of the universe.
Whiskey could work, too.
Jamie emptied the contents into a glass. “This will help you hear what you sound like when you don’t care what other people think.”
Jamie had just pinpointed exactly why it was always so hard for me to feel relaxed when putting myself out there. I worried too much about them, and not enough about me.
“Are you saying I should drink before my presentation tomorrow?” I asked, reaching for the whiskey.
He didn’t laugh. “No. Just for tonight.”
Our fingers touched when he passed me the glass.
We’d touched so rarely, every instance was catalogued in my brain. His fingers brushing mine as he pointed to a blueprint last year. His back under my hand that time at the wine bar.
His hands under my sweater, grazing the curve of my hips as I sat in his lap watching the stars.
Heat shot lightning-fast up my fingers. It rocketed up my arm, spreading right across my chest.
His words echoed in my ear. Just for tonight.
My eyes met his and I swallowed. Hard.
His hand slipped away. “Drink,” he said.
Yes, sir.
I lifted the glass. My tongue darted out first, wetting my lips.
Did I imagine it or did Jamie flinch?
The whiskey burned on the way down, but I barely noticed.
I immediately felt looser. Warmer. Like a few fucks had been shaved off the pile.
I licked my lips again, swiping up the last drops of the whiskey.
Now there was no question. Jamie’s eyes had dropped down to my mouth.
For a moment, I pictured water running down his chest at the pool, slipping into the line of hair that disappeared into his shorts. I pictured the robe he wore at the door earlier. Was he slightly out of breath when he’d answered? Was there more than just a normal bulge pushing against his robe?
On your knees.
“Can I have another?” I asked, my voice no more than a croak.
Jamie, who’d brought his gaze back up so fast it’s possible I could have imagined them leaving mine at all, narrowed his eyes. “One more. Any more than that and you’ll start making mistakes.”
I was this close to whispering What if I want to make a mistake?
But he’d turned around again, pulled out another tiny bottle.
This one I savored, taking only a sip to start.
He’d been right about the whiskey.
The presentation went better that time. A lot better.
After a perfect run-through, he made me do it again.
Sadist.
But by the time I rehearsed my presentation for the last time, I was pausing at all the right moments, leaning forward like the audience was my best friend. I even improvised a couple of jokes that made Jamie’s lips twitch. The closest I’d get to a smile.
At the end, Jamie stood up from the chair he’d been sitting in, bringing his hands together in a slow clap.
“Very good, Cooper.”
Warmth poured over me like honey at his praise.
I’d done it. The presentation was exceptional. I’d sounded like the version of myself who knew, unequivocally, my worth.
And it was Jamie who’d gotten me there.
I downed the last of my second whiskey to hide the silly grin on my face. The burn of the alcohol rolled down my throat and through my chest. Even though he’d already told me I did good, I needed more. I was greedy for it. His praise was like a drug.
“Did I nail it, Jamie?” I asked.
His gaze was hot, fiery like the whiskey. “You nailed it.”
Then he smiled. And I was so elated, I didn’t watch myself at all. I threw my arms around his neck, my lips offering a peck against his cheek.
“Thank you, Jamie,” I said, clinging to him.
To my boss. Who… hated me?
But what kind of hate was it to dedicate hours to helping me be my very best?
Jamie was hard against me. Unyielding. But I didn’t let go. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was my newfound confidence. But this was a challenge. I’d gotten him to loosen up before, this had to do it again.
When he didn’t move, my confidence wavered, just a little. I started veering into panic. I loosened my hold.
But then his hands—those big, rough working hands—met my ribs. His fingers notched into place like they belonged there, his thumbs only millimeters from the undersides of my breasts.
I was suddenly acutely aware of how they were pressed up against him.
How my nipples had turned to hard points.
How our cheeks brushed so close that with just the tiniest quarter turn, he could kiss me.
Some desperate part of me screamed that I should scrape together what dignity I had left and step away.
But that part was buried so deep right now it didn’t exist.
I didn’t move away. Instead, my hands curled into his hair.
He made a rumbling, unconscious sound.
My mouth opened in response and a returning sound came out of me. Half breath, half oh. And as it did, I felt something else stiffen. Something big against my stomach.
I was making Jamie hard.
On your knees.
Oh God.
My boss’s hands slid down to my waist then, and I made yet another undignified sound. His big, rough, warm fingers scraped at me in a way that made me want to drag them between my legs.
My knees went loose, and I slid my own fingers down to his shoulders, pulling back so that our faces were inches apart; so we were breathing the same air.
Liquid heat poured through me as I met his eyes. As I felt the heat of his breath against my lips.
This was wrong. So wrong. But nothing had ever felt so fucking good. Nothing.
But Jamie wasn’t holding on to me to keep me there. He closed his eyes. His grip, now on my hips, tightened even as his thumbs circled, scoring lightning scorched arcs into my flesh.
“You need to move away from me, angel.”
Jamie’s voice was a deep, rough note that thundered through my chest.
His thumbs still moved, plunging themselves into the soft flesh of my belly like they were detached from the words coming from his mouth.
Then he made a rough sound, possibly a curse, and gently moved me backward, possibly lifting me off my feet to do so. I couldn’t tell.
The only thing I knew was his hands releasing me, and a stark coldness everywhere that had been warm a moment ago.
Jamie turned, his back to me as he leaned onto the dresser with both hands. “It’s late,” he said quietly. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”