20. Jackson
TWENTY
Jackson
I didn’t sleep well. Tossed and turned all night, my stomach in my throat from thoughts of seeing Blakely this morning, and wondering if she’s been thinking of me the way I’ve been thinking of her. I showed up to work earlier than usual, needing to get lost in a transmission to keep my mind off all the uncertainties floating through my head. It doesn’t work as well as I’d hoped, my eyes straying to the street every few seconds, waiting to see her Maybach pull up to the curb. The second it rounds the corner, my heart accelerates, beating so fast I feel it in my ears. Her long, toned legs slide from the back seat, and desire simmers low in my gut as she walks inside.
The wrench slips from my oil-stained hands and I scramble to grab it, clearing my throat and focusing back on the Stingray’s transmission, wondering how the hell it’s possible to miss someone who you’ve only just realized you wanted to see.
Last night, I planned to take her to the beach. Pack a picnic and spend some time together to explore whatever this is.
Dip our toes in the water. Take things slow , the way she asked for us to.
Not that I wouldn’t dive in if I thought that’s what she wanted. Once I make a decision, I’m invested, and over the past twenty-four hours, I’ve had a lot of time to think, my brain going back and forth over pursuing something with her.
Whether we should keep it a secret. Probably. Whether it would even be worth it. Definitely.
I’m not an idiot; I know going public wouldn’t look good. A nine-year age difference with a girl not even in her twenties is sure to push us in the limelight for all the wrong reasons. People love to jump into other people’s business and this has drama and judgment written all over it.
She’s always been stunning, but this feeling is deeper than the surface and it came out of nowhere, hitting me in a way I didn’t know was possible, leaving me dizzy with lust.
Part of me wonders if it’s real or if it’s the vulnerability we’ve shared that’s giving me a false sense of familiarity, like a bond that isn’t really there.
It’s possible, I guess, to have manufactured feelings based on an encounter. But what is life if not the sum of all our experiences?
Regardless, there’s this sudden need to know her pooling in the center of my chest, threatening to rise up and drown me. I woke up Sunday morning with visions of her in my head, the memory of her voice in my ears, and the whisper of her taste on my tongue, my body buzzing with happiness.
And that’s a welcome change of pace.
It’s another hour before I find an excuse to go inside and see her. I wash the oil from my arms and hands, and then I head through the glass doors, my heart sinking when I realize she’s not at the front desk.
Walking to the corner, I make myself a cup of the watered-down, complimentary coffee we keep for the few clients who come through. The caffeine in the break room is better, but I can’t bring myself to leave this area, wanting to take in Blakely’s reaction when she first sees me, so I can get a feel for what’s going through her head.
The flat-screen TV drones above me about some senator from Oregon and I lean against the counter as I watch, desperate to find a reason to stay inside until Blakely reappears.
“Senator Wells officially announced his second bid for the presidency. This comes after years of speculation as to whether he would run again after the devastating loss of his son, Alexander.”
A picture floats on the middle of the screen. A young, polished man in a black tuxedo smiles wide into the camera, his arm wrapped around a stunning blond in a floor-length gown. His frame towers over her, but for some reason, it’s not his size that captures my attention—it’s the look on his face that strikes a chord. The plastered-on grin so similar to the one Blakely wears when she’s trying to fool the world.
“Alexander Wells went missing ten years ago, on the night of his engagement to the oil heiress Olivia Sanderson. He has never been found.”
“Fan of politics?”
My stomach jumps as I spin, noticing Blakely in front of the reception desk, her arms crossed over her chest.
I shrug, grinning. “I’m always a fan of knowing what’s going on in the world.”
She nods, her eyes perusing the length of my body. “Yep. I see that for you.”
My brows rise as I set down my coffee and walk toward her. “Do you?”
She waves her hand in my direction. “You have that whole ‘worldly’ vibe going on.”
I smirk. “Do I?”
The prettiest shade of pink dusts across her cheeks as I stop in front of her, my fingers reaching out and trailing down her arm, the urge to touch her too strong to resist.
“Ye-yeah,” she stutters, the grin slipping from her face. Tension sneaks its way through the air, pulling tighter with every touch of my hand.
“And what do I look like now?” I rasp.
She swallows, and the motion makes my stomach clench, my cock lengthening as I wonder what her throat would feel like.
Take it slow.
“Like you want to eat me whole,” she says.
Pushing a strand of hair behind her shoulder, my lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Accurate.”
She drops her head, glancing at me from under her lashes. “Can I tell you a secret?”
My teeth grind as I stop myself from wrapping my palm around her waist and dragging her into me. “You can tell me anything, princess.”
She rises up on her toes, leaning close. “No one’s ever done that to me before.”
Her breath sends shock waves down my spine, the idea of being the first man to taste her making my knees weak and my mouth water.
The phone rings, making us jump apart, and she shakes her head, giving me a small smile before she saunters to her desk and answers.
I follow, reaching over the high counter, grabbing a notepad and pen from the desktop. Her eyes follow my every move as I write, curiosity shining through her gaze.
Holding up the paper, I wait.
Will you go out with me tonight?
The most beautiful smile blooms on her face, scrunching her nose and puffing her cheeks. It’s so damn real , and my heart slams against my chest, wanting to find a hundred different ways to make sure it stays.
She twirls the phone cord around her finger and nods, her free hand coming up to stifle her grin.
I cover my heart with my palm as I walk backward before spinning around to leave. I’m sky high, floating in the clouds of my crush, and maybe that’s why I don’t notice Karen watching us from the hallway until I’m almost at the doors.
My stomach shoots to my throat as our eyes meet, her brow furrowed and her mouth partially open. I paste on a smile and wink, tipping an imaginary hat, hoping that she hasn’t been there long. That she hasn’t seen just how gone I am for the boss’s daughter.
But as I walk back into the garage, there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that knows she saw it all.