Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sinclair
“Arietta was right,” I mumble when I almost run into Jameson’s bare chest.
This wasn’t how I expected to start my day.
I know I should look up, but holy hell, the man is sporting something huge in his boxer briefs.
I’ve heard of the phrase morning wood before, but this is my first time witnessing it in the flesh. Technically, the very thick and long flesh is hidden under his black boxers, but the outline gives everything away.
Jameson Sheppard is packing a lot.
This is not just big dick energy. This is big dick reality.
“Arietta was right about what?” Jameson asks in a gravelly voice that wakes up my nipples.
I tug on the front of the T-shirt I’m wearing.
Thank goodness it’s long enough to cover my silk panties.
I would never have left my bedroom if I had known that Jameson was still in the penthouse. Since it’s past eight, I thought he’d be at Carden’s offices by now.
“Nothing,” I mumble.
“Are you all right, Sin?”
I don’t correct him about my nickname this time because his voice is so delicious at this moment. I kind of really want him to keep talking.
“I’m fine,” I snap back, finally trailing my gaze over his tight abs and muscular chest. When I reach his drop-dead gorgeous face, my nipples literally ache.
He stares at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “Did you just wake up?”
“Yes,” I lie.
I slid on a pair of jeans and a hoodie more than an hour ago to take Dudley out for his morning walk.
When I got back, I half-stripped because I had every intention of taking a hot shower.
Before that could happen, I was sidetracked by a text from Arietta asking if I had thanked Jameson for the dessert last night.
“Me too.” He sighs. “I need to get ready for work, but I thought I’d see if we had anything to eat for breakfast.”
I shake my head. “Spoiler alert. We don’t.”
The corners of his lips rise in a half-grin. “I figured that out. I’ll do an online grocery order today. I think I know what you like. Do you have any special requests I should add to it?”
Since my tastes haven’t changed since he left town, I shake my head. “Whatever you order is fine with me. I can pay for half of the food.”
His hand leaps to his chin. His index finger runs a path over the dark shadow of stubble on his jaw. “Let’s take turns paying. I’ll cover this order. The next one can be on you.”
That’s fair, so I nod. “Sure.”
“Do you have big plans for today?”
My gaze drops to his boxers again. He’s not at full mast anymore, but it’s still damn impressive.
He clears his throat, breaking the trance I was in. “I know. I know. Your work is a secret. If you tell me anything, you’ll have to kill me.”
Holding in a smile, I nod. “You know it.”
He takes a step to the left. “I’ll see you later?”
“I’ll be here,” I say. “Maybe tonight we can start going through some of Denia’s things.”
He swallows hard. “I guess we need to tackle that soon. I’ll cook dinner, and right after we eat, we’ll dive into that.”
I’d argue that there’s no reason for us to eat together, but it’s just a meal. We’ll eat quickly and get to work on the required task of sorting through his grandmother’s belongings.
“All right,” I agree. “I’ll see you then.”
He doesn’t say anything as he brushes past me, sprinting down the hallway.
Against my better judgment, I watch him, noticing the breadth of his shoulders and how cut the muscles in his back are.
“Stop it,” I scold myself as soon as the door to his room closes. “You hate him. Don’t forget that.”
A soft bark from Dudley startles me. He jumps up from where he’s been sleeping next to me on my bed.
A quick look at the corner of my laptop screen confirms what I already suspected. It’s past six p.m., which means Jameson must be home.
I close my laptop, slide off the bed, and skim a hand over the front of the white sweater I’m wearing.
After Jameson left for work this morning, I took a very long and hot shower. Then, I unpacked a few of my things and dressed for the day. I opted for the sweater and my favorite pair of jeans. I’ve had them for years.
After that, I planned to head to Brighton Beck’s studio to meet up with him to talk about the launch party for our book. That never transpired because he met me halfway at a diner for lunch.
It’s been a productive day but now the real work begins.
Not only do I have to eat dinner with Jameson, but I’ll be spending the evening going through some of Denia’s possessions. I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t know how it will play out.
“I’m home!” Jameson’s deep voice carries through the hallway. “Did the grocery order arrive?”
On bare feet, I set off toward the door of my bedroom. I don’t make it more than two steps into the hallway when I spot Jameson headed my way.
I’ll never get used to how good he looks wrapped in a suit.
“It was delivered about an hour ago,” I answer his question. “I put everything away and started dinner.”
That sends his eyebrows up. “You cooked? Tell me you’re better at that than you used to be, Sinclair.”
I bite back a smile. “I am better.”
He raises his chin in the air. “I don’t smell anything burning. In fact, something smells pretty good. Is that roast chicken?”
I nod. “And garlic mashed potatoes. There’s a side of honey glazed carrots too.”
It’s one of the few complete meals that I cook well.
I started my recent culinary journey by learning how to cook spaghetti sauce.
Since then, I’ve watched online videos of some of my favorite celebrity chefs.
The roast chicken dinner idea came straight from the kitchen of a woman who won a cooking competition.
All of her recipes involve simple ingredients, so pulling this meal together took no time at all.
“I’m impressed.” He studies me. “I’ll wow you with my culinary skills tomorrow night. I’ll whip up the best tacos you’ve ever tasted.”
“I can’t,” I say quickly. “I have plans.”
Plans that I can easily cancel, but why would I do that? I won’t rearrange my life just because Jameson shot back into it.
“Oh.” That one very small word that just left his lips holds a lot of meaning.
I know Jameson. Or at least I used to. He only ever says ‘oh’ when every other word in the English language escapes him. It’s a sure sign that he’s been caught off guard.
His gaze trails over my face. “You have plans.”
I nod. “Yes.”
I wait to see if he’ll ask me for more details, but he shakes his head briefly as if he’s chasing away every possible scenario that has crept into his mind.
“Maybe we can do tacos another night,” I suggest. “When I don’t have plans.”
I’m having too much fun not to drag this on.
“Yeah, sure.” He tears his gaze from me to glance down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Is there time for me to shower before dinner?”
“Plenty of time.” I nod. “The food is staying warm in the oven, so whenever you’re ready, we can eat.”
“All right.” His left hand rakes a path through his hair. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
His eyes catch mine, and I see a host of questions in them, but he doesn’t say another word before he heads toward his bedroom.