5. Jacob
Five
Jacob
It feels as though time is moving backwards. Every time I glance at my watch or the time in the corner of my computer screen, I swear it hasn’t moved. It feels as though one o’clock isn’t ever going to come.
I try to distract myself with work, but my focus is utterly shot this morning.
My mind keeps drifting back to how Camryn looked in my kitchen, the sun making a golden halo around her hair.
I keep thinking about the way her voice sounds when she says my name.
I can’t stop reveling in how damn good it feels to be able to look after her.
To support her when she needs a place to stay.
I keep comparing the girl she was to the woman she’s become. She’s grown up. She’s confident and smart and seems so much more comfortable in her skin than she did four years ago.
I’m still a bit in awe that I had a role in that.
“Stop,” I grind out, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. This is not a road we can go down. It’s inappropriate. Beyond inappropriate. I used to be responsible for her. I used to be a father figure of sorts to her.
It’s wrong how much I want her. Wrong. That’s the word I want echoing through my brain, but it’s quickly drowned out by a never ending peal of want.
Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, the clock hits 12:45, and I’m out of my chair like a kid headed for recess.
The Town Car is ready and waiting for me downstairs, and I slide into the backseat.
Something discordant is jangling inside of me.
Nerves? Anticipation? Something more? I don’t know, because I’m not used to feeling this way. I’m used to feeling calm, in control.
The car pulls into the busy afternoon traffic and we make our way towards campus. It’s not a long drive, but every red light is agony. I want to lean forward, tell the driver to step on it, but I don’t. Just because I’m feeling completely out of control doesn’t mean I need to act it.
When we pull up to the university gate, she’s already there.
She’s standing with her bag slung over one shoulder, a couple of books in her arms. She glances in my direction, her face lighting up when she sees the car.
A smile spreads across her full lips, and something in my chest loosens.
Melts. It’s like watching the sun emerge from behind clouds, bright and warm and a little dazzling.
I don’t move. I’m mesmerized. I stare, my fingers curling into tight fists until I feel like I’m about to snap.
Deep down, I know what the prudent thing to do here is. I should find a short term rental for her, or even a hotel suite, and foot the bill. I should step away from the situation given the intensity of my wildly taboo attraction to her.
I also know that I’m not going to do that.
She hurries toward the car, and I’m going to hell for noticing the way her breasts bounce beneath her sweater dress as she moves. My driver opens the door for her, and she slides in beside me. My blood heats when I catch the faintest whiff of that warm, floral smell.
“Hey,” she says, slightly breathless from her jog to the car.
My tongue feels like it’s glued to the roof of my mouth. I can’t stop staring at her, and her cheeks go rosy under my gaze. Her eyes are sparkling, and I have the insane urge to ask her if she’s as happy to see me as I am her.
But I don’t. God, what the actual fuck is wrong with me?
“Hi,” I finally say, clearing my throat when the single syllable comes out all raspy. The car pulls away from the curb, maneuvering back into traffic, and I force myself to look out the window, as much as it pains me to not be looking at her when she’s right there.
The car moves through the city, eventually turning onto a street lined with sleek storefronts and elegant awnings.
“This…Um, I thought we were going to go to like…the mall,” she says, her knuckles white where her fingers are curled around the strap of her bag.
“I think we can do a little better than the mall, sweetheart.”
She swallows thickly. “It’s just that…” She trails off, chewing on her bottom lip.
“It’s just that what?”
“I don’t need to go anywhere fancy,” she says, but I can tell there’s more to it than that.
I lean back in my seat, studying her intently. “What’s the fun in being a billionaire if I can’t shop like one?”
An unreadable expression flickers across her face, and she shakes her head. “I just…maybe we should just go to the mall.”
“Camryn,” I say, waiting until her eyes flick up to mine. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” She presses her lips together, and I can see it now. The worry, the hurt, the fear shimmering in her eyes. “Most luxury boutiques don’t carry my…my size. Most of them cut off at a 10 or a 12, and I’m…bigger than that.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “I’ve done my research. I’d never bring you somewhere that doesn’t have what you need, or put you in a situation that might make you feel embarrassed.”
A flush creeps up her neck, and she shifts in her seat. “I…I just…” She can’t seem to get the words out.
“Not that you have anything to be embarrassed about when it comes to your body,” I say, dropping my voice to a low murmur. “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you. Every single curve. Absolutely stunning.”
She lets out a shaky breath, her lips parting. The air between us is suddenly thick, pulsing, charged.
I want to say more. I want to tell her how much her gorgeous curves arouse me. How the way her waist dips and flares makes me want to grip her hips as I pull her against me. How the thought of her in something that hugs every inch of her body makes my balls throb.
But I don’t.
Our eyes meet, hold, and her blush deepens, her chest rising and falling faster. And it’s both the best and the worst thing, because I now see with complete clarity that the attraction between us…it’s not one-sided.
But before I can fully process that, the car rolls to a stop at the curb, pulling up directly in front of Gild, one of Toronto’s most exclusive luxury boutiques.
The glass windows showcase mannequins dressed in sleek blouses and glittering dresses.
My driver opens the door for us, and I step out first, then turn, extending my hand to Camryn.
She hesitates, just for half a second, and then puts her hand in mine. Something in me settles at the contact, and I know I’m playing a dangerous game. She’s been back in in my life for less than twenty-four hours and I’m already unraveling in way that feels mildly illegal.
And yet, now that her hand’s in mine, I find myself wholly reluctant to let go. So I don’t as we walk toward the entrance, a doorman pulling open the glinting gold-plated door for us.
The interior of the boutique is lush, with polished wood floors, cream-coloured walls, and gilded crown molding lining the edges of the ceiling.
A massive chandelier hangs in the middle of the space, and the clothes are displayed in recessed cream-and-gold alcoves, backlit and glowing softly.
Accessories are displayed on dark wood tables, arranged thematically.
“It even smells expensive in here,” Camryn says softly, and I chuckle because she’s right. The air smells like cashmere and roses. Ambient music floats from a hidden speaker somewhere.
A woman in a sleek black dress approaches us, her face a mask of professionalism.
“Mr. Brooks. The private dressing room you requested is ready for you. Would you care for some champagne?”
“Please,” I say, just as Camryn starts to shake her head.
“I have Claudia, our personal shopper, on standby if you’d like—“
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “That won’t be necessary.”
The woman nods. “Very good. I’ll have the champagne sent to your dressing room.”
I incline my head at her and then with my hand on her lower back, steer Camryn towards a rack of blouses and skirts. But when I glance down at her, she’s chewing on her lip, her gaze darting around.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, and she lets out a sigh.
“Jake, this is too much,” she says quietly. “I can’t…I mean, this place is so expensive, and…” She gestures around helplessly. “Most of these items cost more than my rent.”
I turn to her, and because my hand is still on her lower back, it’s like I’m pulling her towards me. Completely unintentional, but I can’t say I hate the result. I can feel the warmth of her skin, and I get a front row seat to the way she melts, just a little, at the close contact.
Alarm bells are going off in my head, but I ignore them.
“Here’s what you’re going to do, Cam,” I say, keeping my voice low so only she can hear me. “You’re going to let me pick out whatever I want for you. You’re going to pick out whatever you want. You’re going to be a good girl and let me spoil you rotten.”
She lets out a shuddery sigh at my words, her eyes going heavy lidded, her lips parting slightly. “Y-yes,” she says in a shaky voice. “Okay.”
Something inside me loosens, and I nod. Even if I can’t have her—that can never happen—I can pretend she’s mine for the afternoon. That I’m her very wealthy, much older boyfriend, ready to spoil and pamper her in every single way.
I take a step back, because Jesus fucking Christ, I should not be having these thoughts. I take a breath, swallow, and square my shoulders, pushing the exhilarating, ridiculously arousing fantasy away.
Clothes. I just need to focus on the clothes.
The first rack we pass has an emerald green dress that catches my eye.
It’s vaguely reminiscent of the dress she wore to prom, but made for a woman, not a girl, and far more elevated in style.
The shimmery fabric is draped in a way that makes me imagine the way it would cling to her hips.
I reach out, skimming my fingers over the silky material.
It’s soft. Luxurious. And it’s the exact shade of green that would make her skin glow.
“This one,” I say, pulling a dress in her size from the rack. An assistant is right there, rolling rack in tow behind her as she follows at a polite distance.
“Jacob, I’m in grad school. When would I ever need a dress like that?”
I tilt my head at her. “I have a charity gala coming up in a few weeks. Come with me as my d—“ I catch myself in the nick of time. “As my guest, and you can wear it then.” Maybe at the gala, I can give her the evening she deserved four years ago.
Cam twists her fingers together, looking uncertain, but then she straightens and nods. “Okay, sure. I’ll try it on.”
I’m quickly discovering how much I love it when she’s a good girl for me.
We move to the next section, and slowly the rolling rack fills with blazers, blouses, jeans, skirts, sweaters, dresses, a leather jacket.
With every single item I select, I picture Camryn in it.
I imagine the way the blazers will accentuate her waist, the way the low cut blouse will show off her cleavage.
The way the jeans will hug her hips and thighs and make her ass look like a fucking dream.
I pick a soft pink sweater, and I’m not going to lie—I pick it because of how sweet and innocent it looks.
It’s official. I’m definitely going to hell.
After a little while, Camryn’s feeling confident enough to start adding pieces of her own to the rack, and I grin at her encouragingly. I love watching her tackle an unfamiliar situation, her confidence growing by the minute.
“Okay, this is pretty fun,” she admits, holding up a shirt, scrutinizing it, and then adding it to the rack.
My smile grows. “Good. It’s supposed to be.”
Spend Daddy’s money, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.
Oh, Christ.
The thought is so dirty and so powerful and so, so…I don’t even know that I take a half step back and press a hand to my chest. I know where my body stands when it comes to Camryn, but apparently my brain’s leaning in that direction, too.
I shove a hand through my hair and pretend to be immensely interested in a display of purses on a nearby table.
It’s okay. They’re just thoughts. Thoughts are okay, as long as you don’t act on them. With time, this insane lust will dull. It always does. The important thing is to lock it down. Now.
“Jacob?” she says, her sweet voice wrapping around me. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yes. Fine. Just distracted with…a work thing,” I finish lamely. “Let’s try on your new clothes.”