Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
kate
“Uh-huh,” I say, listening to my creative director, Jeremy, drone on about how he has to film at this extremely exclusive, pricey location in New York City.
One he knows is way outside the client’s budget and completely unnecessary for the project.
It’s the same conversation we’ve had twice this week because he’s trying to wear me down, and it might be working.
I loathe these conversations when I repeatedly have to say “no.” But someone has to keep him in line, or our clients and the agency would quickly end up in bankruptcy due to his expensive tastes.
“Not gonna happen, Jeremy. You know this is way outside of their budget. Not even in the same galaxy.”
“I know. Doesn’t hurt to try. Sometimes you find magical ways to make my dreams come true. Can’t this be one of those times?” Jeremy’s attempt at a pouty face on the video call does little to soften my resolve.
“Not a miracle worker. Nice try, though,” I reply, taking a sip of my Diet Coke and hoping we can finally move past this request—once and for all.
“Fine,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face and leaning back. One of these days, he’s going to topple over in his chair, and I’d better be able to watch it happen. “When are you back in the office?”
“The week after next. Or, at least, that’s the current plan.
Is there something you need me for in person before then?
” My muscles tense slightly as I mentally run through what I could have possibly forgotten that might require my presence in Chicago.
Nothing comes to mind, which doesn’t help my growing worry.
I lightly drum my fingers on Jake’s matte-black desk, ignoring the fingerprints I’m leaving behind.
Although this desk probably looked gorgeous in a magazine when an interior designer pitched it, it’s the definition of impractical, showing every smudge and water stain.
Everything in Jake’s home has a similar vibe—beautiful yet unrealistic for everyday life.
“Nothing I can think of. Just curious when I might get to see you again.” Jeremy leans forward, getting closer to the camera.
“Are you ever going to tell me more about this mysterious new boyfriend? I’m dying to get the deets on the man who swept you off your feet and caused you to throw caution to the wind for once.
He deserves a medal for getting you to live a little. ”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “He’s a great guy and makes me incredibly happy.”
I’ve been coy about my relationship to everyone at work, planning to wait to share Jake’s identity until we officially go public.
While I don’t anticipate any of my colleagues would blab about it, Anna says you can never be too careful.
She’s seen the most loyal friends of almost all of her clients turn into leakers to earn a quick buck or gain fifteen minutes of fame.
“I’m sure there’ll be more to share at some point,” I answer. “Until then, I’m trying to keep everything between the two of us.”
Jeremy’s eyes go wide as his mouth drops open slightly.
“Are you dating a client? Please tell me it’s Franco,” he whispers.
A dreamy look appears on his face, which I can only assume is him fantasizing about our newest French luxury beauty client and its marketing vice president, Franco.
“That man is utter perfection. And his French accent gives me the most inappropriate thoughts.”
I chuckle softly. “Definitely not Franco or any other client. Let’s get back to discussing your ideas for Sarah’s next campaign. She wants a meeting next week to run through creative concepts.”
The rest of the hour flies by as Jeremy and I discuss our major clients with active projects.
This weekly deep-dive meeting is one of my favorites because it gives us time to ping-pong ideas without having the pressure of the entire team in the room.
It’s fascinating how quickly the tone of brainstorming changes when you add more people—everyone watching what they say, almost defeating the purpose of having the meeting.
Frankly, I prefer these unfiltered sessions with Jeremy, even when he’s being dramatic about the budget, because we’re able to challenge each other without worrying about the message it sends to our team.
Although I love being a leader, the mental load can be exhausting. You have to be constantly “on” and are judged for everything you say and do. Having one bad day can wreak havoc within your team, causing people to assume something is wrong with the company, the client, or their jobs.
“That’s it on my end,” I say, exiting out of the presentation I was sharing. “Anything else you want to—”
“Hey, sweetheart. Are you free?” Jake asks as he walks into the office.
“Is that your boyfriend? Tell him to come say hi,” Jeremy shouts, moving closer to the camera as if it will allow him to see who else is in the room.
“Goodbye, Jeremy,” I call out, giving him a quick wave and ending the meeting before either of them can say anything else.
Today is not the day to subject Jake to an inquisition from Jeremy.
Chelsi was child’s play compared to the number of questions Jeremy will ask, and absolutely none of them will have anything to do with Jake’s intentions.
If I had to guess, Jeremy will focus on whether Jake can set him up with any country musicians.
It wouldn’t surprise me if Jeremy has a running list of men across every industry he’d like to get to know a little better.
That’s why introducing the two of them is going to require time for me to prep Jake on what to expect and copious amounts of wine.
And if anyone would accidentally blab to someone else about Jake’s identity, it would be Jeremy.
He rivals my mom for the biggest gossip.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting,” Jake says, crossing the room until he’s next to my chair.
I take in his broad frame, starting with his tousled sandy-blond hair, down to his chiseled jawline, to the tight fit of his navy T-shirt that shows off the hours he spends in the gym every week, to the light gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
One tug is all it would take. A single pull of his drawstrings.
Damn it. This is the power he has over me. One look and I’m practically soaked. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate during a budget meeting when your panties are wet. Zero out of ten. Do not recommend.
“Jeremy and I were done. How’s writing going?” He’s been holed up in his recording studio, trying to write another song for the new album. Based on the state of his extremely disheveled hair, it’s either going really well or very poorly.
“Finished a new song. Planning to record a demo later. We’ll see whether it makes the album or not,” he replies, pulling my chair closer until our knees are touching. “Was hoping I could take a break. Get some inspiration.” The tone of his voice sends a pang of heat straight to my core.
A quick glance at the clock tells me how much time I have before my next meeting. “What do you have in mind?” I squeeze my thighs together to stop the warmth spreading further.
“Oh. I think you know,” he replies in a raspy tone, placing his hands on the arms of my chair, caging me in.
He leans forward, dragging the tip of his nose along my cheek until his lips brush my ear.
“Why do I have a feeling that you’re already wet for me?
That I’m going to find you completely soaked.
” He nibbles on my earlobe as the heat from his breath sends goosebumps rising on my neck and arms. “Should I find out?”
I nod, biting the corner of my lower lip. Sometimes I lose the ability to speak when he’s this close to me and his warmth cascades over my skin, my body begging to be touched. Unwilling to do anything until his hands and mouth are on me. He’s so fucking intoxicating.
“Hmmm. How should I take you? Bent over the desk? Bouncing on my cock while I sit in the chair?” He slowly trails a single finger down my neck until it reaches my collarbone and barely slips under the neckline of my sweater.
“On your hands and knees on the floor? Sprawled out on the rug? Or the couch? So many options. Never enough time.”
I whimper, curling into his touch, desperately wanting more. “I only have twenty minutes until my next meeting.”
“Like I said, never enough time.”
His mouth descends onto mine, furiously kissing me and intensifying the fire between my legs into an inferno. His tongue expertly strokes the inside of my mouth, eliciting uncontrollable moans from me that urge him on.
Without warning, he pulls me out of the chair and into his arms, quickly removing my sweater and bra.
“Fuck. You’re so beautiful,” he says in a raspy tone as he rakes his eyes over my body, darkening when he stares at my pebbled nipples.
“Tick tock, Jake. Time’s a-wasting,” I tease.
It’s moments like this when I can’t believe this is my life.
That I have the privilege of being so deeply loved by such an incredible man—one who accepts me for who I am.
Not to mention our sex life is out of this world.
Completely beyond my wildest expectations.
I place my hands on my hips and jut out my chest to make it clear I know exactly where he’s looking. I stare back at him, not allowing myself to touch him. I want him to make the move. To dominate me. Control my body. Make me feel things only he can.
“Is that how it’s going to be?” he asks, pulling his shirt over his head and locking eyes with me again.
“Have you forgotten how easy it is for me to make you come? How your pussy begs for my touch? My mouth. My cock.” He wraps his arm around my waist, bringing his bare skin to mine.
“Should I remind you how much I own your body? How much you love to have my cock buried deep inside you?”