10. Jackson
JACKSON
"Isaid no." My voice is harsh, but I know it won't deter Aliyah.
I watch her stalk across my living room, hips swaying in the tight dress I bought her. Two weeks of this. Two fucking weeks of her smart mouth and defiant glares. We managed a day of civility before our comfortable animosity came swarming back in.
Every deal she's helped close has been flawless. But keeping her contained is like trying to cage lightning.
"I'm not one of your soldiers to order around." Aliyah spins to face me, chin lifted. "I helped with the Martinez deal yesterday. I deserve some freedom."
"You'll leave this house when I say you can leave." My jaw clenches. This has become a recurring battle. I don't know what - or who - is out there, but with each passing day, she seems to be growing desperate to get away from me. It shouldn't enrage me the way it does.
The memory of her smooth-talking Martinez still burns. The way she'd leaned close, batting those innocent eyes while feeding him exactly what he needed to hear.
"What are you afraid of, tough guy?" She takes a step closer, challenge written in every line of her body. "That I'll run? Or that I'll find something you don't want me to know?"
In three strides, I close the distance between us. She backs up until she hits the wall, but that sharp tongue doesn't stop.
"Did I hit a nerve?" Her breath comes faster, but she doesn't shrink away. "The great Jackson Amato, scared of what a little waitress might discover?"
"You're no waitress." I plant my hands on either side of her head, caging her in. "You're the damn devil in a tight dress. It's no wonder you're so good at negotiating crime deals."
Her eyes flash. "At least I don't pretend to be something I'm not."
The scent of her perfume fills my lungs - something expensive and subtle that makes my blood heat. She's close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her eyes, the slight part of her lips as she draws in a shaky breath.
"You think you know me?" I lean closer, voice dropping low. "You don't know shit."
"I know enough." Her words come out whisper-soft, but there's steel underneath. "I know you watch me when you think I'm not looking. I know your control's slipping, day by day."
The truth of it hits like a physical blow. Every day she's here, every argument, every glimpse of that razor-sharp mind behind the innocent facade - it's all chipping away at my restraint.
I scoff. "My control to keep from making you pay for all those little remarks, yes. And trust me, angel, you don't want to know what will happen when I can't hold back."
I make it sound threatening when really my cock is hardening at the thought.
"Oh, please." She rolls her eyes. "You love to act so big and scary. But tell me why you really brought me here." Aliyah's words slice through the tension. "Because this isn't about the deals anymore, is it?"
My fingers curl against the wall. She's too close, too perceptive. The truth claws at my throat - that I've wanted her since I first saw her. That watching other men look at her makes me want to break bones. She's the only person who has ever gotten under my skin, and I don't know how to handle it.
"You're a means to an end." The lie tastes bitter. "Nothing more."
Her laugh is sharp, dangerous. "If that was the case, you could pick me up when you need me. Instead, you keep me here, watching my every move."
"Maybe I don't trust you not to run." But even I hear the weakness in my voice.
"Or maybe-" She shifts closer, pressing against me in a way that makes my blood surge. "Maybe you just want to fuck me, Jackson. Maybe that's what all this possessive bullshit is about."
The crude words in her sweet voice snap something in my chest. My hand slides into her hair, gripping tight enough to make her gasp.
She's right - but also devastatingly wrong.
This isn't just about sex. It's about the way she challenges me, matches me step for step.
The way her mind works, always three moves ahead.
But I can't tell her that. Can't admit how deep this runs.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly against mine. I can feel every curve of her body, smell the heated skin at her throat. Her pulse races under my thumb when I brush it across her neck.
"Is that what you think this is?" I growl against her ear.
She shivers, but her voice stays steady. "I can see it."
The tension blooms between us, and she shifts further into me. "You know what I think, angel?" I tighten my grip on her, my control steadily slipping. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold back. "I think you want me, and that's why you're pushing. You want me to fuck you, don't you?"
She shifts until our lips are nearly touching. How the fuck did I even end up in this damn position. "Why don't you find out?"
I'm so tempted to slip my hand between her legs and prove what I'm certain of. She'll be soaked for me, and my cock is already rock hard at the thought. Her eyes flash with a challenge, and just as the last of my control starts to slip-
My phone cuts through the moment with Cole's ringtone. For a heartbeat, I consider ignoring it. But Cole never calls unless it's urgent.
"Saved by the bell." Aliyah's whisper holds a note of triumph, like she's proven something.
I release her slowly, already aching at the loss of contact. "This isn't finished."
I stalk down the hallway as I press the phone to my ear, every muscle in my body rigid with tension. "Give me a minute, Cole."
My office door slams behind me. Fuck. What was I thinking? She's been pushing my buttons for days, testing limits, seeing how far she can go before I break. And tonight I nearly gave her exactly what she wanted.
I drop into my leather chair, dragging a hand down my face. The memory of her body against mine, that defiant gleam in her eyes - it's burned into my brain. The scent of her perfume still clings to my shirt.
"Jackson." Cole's sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. "Are you listening?"
"Yeah." I force myself to focus. Something about a weapons shipment going sideways. Missing crates. Potential security breach. But all I can think about is the way Aliyah's breath caught when I gripped her hair.
"This isn't like you." Cole's tone holds a warning. "I need you clear-headed."
"I'm fine." The lie comes automatically. I'm anything but fine. My cock is still hard, and the urge to go back out there and finish what we started pounds through my veins.
"Then get here. Now." Cole doesn't wait for a response before hanging up.
"Fuck!" I slam my fist against the desk. She's gotten under my skin, burrowed deep where I can't shake her loose. Every time I think I have control, she finds another crack in my armor.
I stand, adjusting myself in my pants. This is exactly what she wants - to throw me off balance, make me question myself. I've seen her work before, watched her manipulate men twice as dangerous as me with nothing but a smile and well-placed words.
But knowing doesn't make it any easier to resist. The memory of her challenge echoes in my head. "Maybe you just want to fuck me, Jackson."
I grab my keys and jacket, already dreading leaving her alone. But Cole doesn't call emergency meetings for nothing. Whatever's happening, it's big enough to demand immediate attention.
The smart thing would be to lock her in her room until I return. But something tells me that would only make things worse. She'd see it as another victory, more proof that she's getting to me.
And she is. God help me, she is.
I stalk back into the living room, keys gripped tight enough to leave marks in my palm.
The sight that greets me stops me dead. Aliyah's sprawled on my leather couch, long legs bare beneath my black t-shirt.
When the fuck did she change? The hem rides high on her thighs, and my possessive instincts roar at seeing her in my clothes.
She's got a book propped on her knees, but her eyes gleam with calculated mischief over the pages. That familiar smirk plays at her lips - she knows exactly what she's doing.
"Don't leave this house." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "I mean it, Aliyah."
"Mhmm." She stretches, the shirt riding even higher. "Whatever you say, tough guy."
I grip the doorframe to keep from crossing the room and showing her exactly how tough I can be. "I'm serious. Cole's got a situation that needs handling."
"Oh?" She marks her page with deliberate slowness. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Don't start." I level her with a hard stare. "Just stay put and try not to destroy anything while I'm gone."
Her laugh is pure sin. "You're so tense, Jackson. Anyone would think you don't trust me."
"I don't." But my eyes linger on the curve of her neck, the way my shirt dwarfs her frame. The sight of her in my clothes does something primal to my brain. "This isn't a game."
"Everything's a game." She sits up, that calculating look I've come to know so well crossing her features. "You're just mad because I'm better at playing it."
I turn away before I do something stupid like pin her to that couch and wipe that smirk off her face with my mouth. "One hour. Don't make me regret leaving you alone."
Her soft laugh follows me out the door. "Too late for that, isn't it?"
I don't answer as I storm out. Mostly because she's fucking right and I hate it.