Zak
ZAK
“Fuck!”
I groan, opening my eyes to find the room lighter than I expect. It takes me a second to remember where I am, and another to take in the fact that Jaime Smith is naked and swearing angrily in my room.
Sitting up with a sleepy grin, I watch as she frantically searches for her underwear, pulling the scrap of white lace up and making me wish I’d torn it instead of taking it off carefully. She might be freaking out, but she looks like a fucking dream.
Yawning, I palm my hard cock as I watch her full breasts swing with the movement of searching for the rest of her clothes, her dark nipples tantalizingly tight, calling out for my tongue. My mouth salivates at the thought of tasting her again.
“You’re already late,” I say, my voice still thick with sleep. Throwing back the covers, I fist my cock lazily. “You might as well have a little morning work out before you leave.”
Jaime turns, her beautiful face twisted into a scowl, but as her gaze falls on my hard dick, lust clearly passes over her features for a second.
“Stop it,” she says, turning away. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. My parents are going to be pissed as hell.”
Swinging my legs off the bed, I walk over to where I dropped my pants and pull my phone from the pocket. “It’s six a.m.,” I say. “They won’t even be awake yet. Relax.”
Jaime shows zero signs of relaxing, so I take hold of her shoulders, turning her toward me. She huffs, looking adorably disgruntled for someone wearing nothing but a thong.
“Take a second,” I say gently. “Your house is like, two minutes away. Your folks were up until at least one in the morning. You really think they’re going to be awake so early?”
Her lips press together as though she’s going to argue, but then she sighs. “Probably not.”
“There we go.” I stroke down her arms, gathering her hands in mine. “Now get your ass back in bed and I’ll order us some breakfast.”
As much as I’d have loved for a repeat of last night, I know it’s not going to happen, and my dick slowly deflates in reluctant agreement.
“ . . .”
“Look,” I say, letting go of her hands and reaching for the room service menu on the desk. “I’m going to take a shower. Order some coffee and whatever else you want. Give me until six fifty. You can still be home before seven.”
Jaime sighs, taking the menu from me, and I turn and head into the bathroom for the world’s quickest piss, shower, and tooth clean in history.
I’m being selfish. I know I am. But I want a few more precious minutes with Jaime like this. Where she’s mine, and only mine. A few minutes pretending I don’t have to hand her back to someone else. My muscles tense at the thought. Is Louis staying at her house? They’re clearly not sharing a room if she’s not worried about him noticing she’s gone. Have they slept together yet? I push the thought away as my stomach rolls.
I’m in the bathroom for all of eight minutes but when I step out, a fluffy white towel around my waist, the room is empty.
Slumping against the doorframe, I stare at the menu abandoned on the bed, and the floor empty of clothes. She even picked up my tux and draped it over the chair.
A little part of me knew this might happen, but I really hoped it wouldn’t. If it wasn’t for the state of the unmade bed, I’d think she’d never been here at all.
My good mood obliterated, I tug on some clean underwear and pull a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from the closet. When my phone bleeps, my heart skips. But when I pick it up, it’s just my mom asking what time I want to go for breakfast. Why she’s up this goddamn early, I have no idea.
Sinking to the bed with a sigh, I plug it in and tell her I’m ready whenever she is. It’s then that something catches my eye. Lying on the bedside table, are the sparkling pins from Jaime’s hair. I pick one of them up, watching how the sunlight catches on the tiny crystals. I’m still staring when a knock sounds on my door.
Tossing the pins in my toiletry bag, I open the door to find my mom standing there in a long blue t-shirt dress and gold hooped earrings, looking fresh as a daisy.
“Who the hell pissed in your cereal?” she asks, frowning up at me.
My eyebrows shoot up and I choke on a laugh. “Mom!”
She reaches up and cups my cheek, her eyes searching mine. “Seriously. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” I swat her away. “It’s really early, and I’m a twenty-one-year-old athlete who hasn’t eaten since the tiny food last night.”
She hums, clearly not believing me, but lets it drop, not speaking again until we’re seated at a table with fresh coffee and orange juice in front of us.
“Are you hungover?” she asks.
I raise an eyebrow over the rim of my coffee cup. “No. Are you?”
“Is it something to do with Mason’s daughter?”
I groan, putting my coffee down on the table. “Mom, I thought we’d dropped this. I’m just tired and hungry. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” she mutters, standing to go and fill her plate at the buffet. “And you’re a big fat liar.”
For a second, I consider telling her, but I don’t want what’s happened between me and Jamie to taint whatever relationship she’s building with the Smiths. A partnership with PEO could mean huge things for her company and I don’t want to jeopardize it.
Sitting back in my chair, I watch the ocean outside the window and replay the events of last night. Did I push her? Did I make it too hard for her to say no? I don’t think so. Fuck. I told her there was no way I’d touch her knowing she was engaged to someone else, but she proved me a liar. I guess Mom’s right.
I don’t regret it, though. It easily replaced what happened in Sol’s room as the hottest night of my life. Jaime is just as perfect as I imagined, and the memory of her laid out, naked and begging for me, is going to be one I never forget.
I meant what I told her, too. She’s mine. The second she kissed me, she claimed me. No backsies. And I’m not going to let her go without a fight. She said she doesn’t need anyone to rescue her but damnit, I’m going to try.
How, I have no fucking idea.
For the hundredth time, I consider calling Sol or Alex but my phone is still charging up in my room. Besides, Alex is all loved up, and Sol is going through whatever messed up shit he has going on with Wes. I don’t want to bother them with my stuff. Or maybe I still don’t want to hear what they have to say.
Either way, it’s going to be two weeks until I see Jaime again. We fly back to Chicago today for Christmas, and I won’t be back in Oregon until January second. A lot can happen in two weeks. I’m pretty sure nothing physical has happened between her and Louis yet, but what if it does? What if she falls for Billionaire Ken?
On paper, he’s a better match for sure. They have family history. They’re both stupid rich. He’s annoyingly good looking. I can practically see them on a yacht somewhere, laughing and enjoying life while sipping champagne.
I hate it.
My muscles tense as something Jaime said in Joe For Joe echoes into my memory. Lack of direction . Fuck. Louis Chevalier has more direction than most people on the planet. A goddamn empire to head. It’s almost laughable that Jaime finds me even the smallest bit tempting. I have nothing to offer her. No big career plans. No sparkling future. All I have are more lacrosse trophies than I have room to display and a reasonable inheritance.
Frustration builds and builds until I’m ready to throw my empty coffee cup across the room. Why the hell haven’t I spent more time trying to figure shit out? I couldn’t care less about economics, and I know last night’s dinner wasn’t the best showcase of the business world, but I know in my gut I don’t want to join Mom’s company. Which leaves me . . . Absolutely nowhere.
Slumping in my chair, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I might be lacking in direction, but I’m a good person. I know that. And I also know that Louis might be a perfect match on paper, but no one will care for Jaime better than me.
I may have chased her time and time again, but last night it was Jaime who came to the hotel looking for me. It was also Jaime that kissed me first in Sol’s room. Who asked me to fuck her. For all the pushing from my side, Jaime’s also done more than her fair share.
She says she doesn’t want rescuing, but she also said she doesn’t want me. One of those is clearly a lie. But what if it’s both? For the first time, I can’t see the right play.
If I step back, will she find her way back to me? Or will I end up seeing her wedding photos in magazines next year, wondering whether I could have stopped it? Does she even want me to? No one can make Jaime Smith do anything she doesn’t want to. Surely if she really didn’t want to marry him, she wouldn’t?
By the time Mom gets back with a plate laden with fresh fruit and pastries, I’m more confused than ever.