Chapter 29
Ethan: I’m sending a car and crew to help you move your stuff.
Jamie: No need. I’m already in an Uber.
Ethan
When my doorman notifies me that Jamie’s on her way up to my apartment, my pulse kicks up and warmth spreads through my chest.
She’s here.
I shut my laptop, get up from my desk, and go to meet her.
The elevator door slides open, and Jamie steps out, wearing a tank top and jeans. Her hair’s in a ponytail, showing off those fighter's shoulders that drive me crazy, and her long, kissable neck. Weirdly, she’s only carrying a single duffel bag.
Drawing her into my arms, I kiss her. Damn, she feels good.
She pulls away too soon. "Hey, roomie,” she says with a laugh, adjusting her duffel bag on her shoulder.
"One bag?" I ask, thrown by how little she's brought. "That's all?"
She shrugs. "I travel light. Ready to make a quick getaway."
Before I can process the implications of that statement, Jamie adds, “Your team move fast. I spent the day in the office and stopped at the gym on my way here. They’re already ripping off the old roof.”
“They’ve worked for me for years and know what they’re doing. It’s in good hands.”
Jamie starts down the hallway, in the opposite direction from the living room and kitchen. “I haven’t seen much of this end of your apartment. What’s in here?” She stops at the first door and peeks in.
“That’s my office.”
She shoots me a puzzled frown. “I thought your office was two levels down?”
“Two floors down I have my official office, where Rachel works, and where I conduct meetings. This is my home office. I work here when I’m at home.”
“May I see it?”
I motion her in. “Be my guest.”
She drops her bag at the door, then turns in a slow circle in the middle of the room. “Okay,” she says doubtfully. “It’s very..." She pauses, clearly searching for the right word.
I follow her gaze, trying to see it through her eyes.
My designer made sure the room looked impressive, and my housekeeper keeps it spotless.
My desk faces the windows, and behind it, floor-to-ceiling bookcases are filled with dark, leather-bound books.
Two armchairs next to the bookcase have a low table between them.
Giving the room a splash of color is a large Picasso, the most valuable painting I own.
"Very what?" I ask.
"Sterile.” She touches the back of one of the leather armchairs. “Do you actually work in here? Or is this room just for show?”
“I work on my laptop.” I nod at the desk which holds just the laptop and nothing else. “All my papers and documents are in my other office. I run my business from the thirty-second floor. The one below my gym.”
Actually, most of my paperwork is in Rachel’s office. But her office is next to mine on that floor, so it’s close enough.
Her gaze lands on my bookshelf. “Those books look too perfect. Do they even have pages, or are they just props?"
"You got me. They're hollow and filled with emergency cufflinks."
That draws a laugh from her. Crossing to the bookcase, she trails her fingers across the covers of a set of leather-bound classic novels. “Have you read any of these?”
“No, I don’t want to crack the spines. They’re rare first editions. They increase in value over time and look good in the bookcase.”
She wrinkles her nose. “So they’re not for reading, just for looking good?”
“They’re an investment.”
“An investment like the wine you don’t drink?” Her tone is teasing. “Ethan the dragon, hoarding his books and his wine.”
“Careful. I breathe fire, remember.”
“There’s nothing personal in this room. Nothing fun.”
"Maybe you could add your feminine touch to it. Some lace curtains and throw pillows, and… flowers.” If she’s going to tease me, I’ll tease her right back.
She snorts. "Yeah, no. Maybe a big screen to watch the sports channel.”
“With a chocolate dispenser and a punching bag for when you get restless.”
“Now you’re talking.” She grins, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “See now, that’s a room I’d want to spend time in.”
I grab her duffel bag off the floor, my own lips twitching. "Come on. I’ll show you my bedroom.”
Her smile fades. "You mean the guest room?"
“What?” Frowning, I meet her gaze. “I mean my room. Where I want you to stay.”
She chews her lip. "It’s a big deal moving into your apartment, let alone into your bedroom.”
Fuck. I want to grind my teeth with frustration.
“You want to sleep alone?" I keep my tone level, not letting her see how terrible an idea that is. She’s already spooked, and this matters to me a whole lot more than I want her to know.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to move straight into your bedroom. I guess I thought…”
"What? That we should sleep in separate beds?” I step closer, close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo. "After Vegas?"
A faint blush creeps up her neck. "Vegas was different."
"How?"
"It just was." She shakes her head. “Ethan, whatever this is, it’s moving so fast, it’s making my head spin.”
I nod, tightening my jaw. “Then you can sleep in the guest room if that’s what you want,” I grind out the words, hating every one of them.
She hesitates, then blows out a breath, her eyes on mine. “Show me your bedroom.”
I lead her to my room, watching her face as she takes in my private space. Like the rest of my place, it's minimal and pristine. Wide windows, crisp white bedding, clean lines.
“Even your bedroom looks like a five-star hotel suite." Jamie says. “Like nobody actually lives here.”
Her reaction isn’t exactly what I’d hoped for. I want her to be comfortable here, and I’d thought she might focus more on the king-sized bed. I’d been picturing us spending plenty of time in there, enjoying the view between long love-making sessions.
I set her bag down. “I had Helena clear out the top drawers in the dresser for you, and some space in the closet. The nightstand on the far side is yours.”
She walks over to the dresser. “Your room is so tidy, I’d be scared to even leave a hair tie lying around.”
“You can leave as many hair ties as you like. The more the better. I like it when you wear your hair down.”
“Are you sure? Have you ever had a messy woman invade your space before?"
“I’ve never brought anyone in here. No one but you."
She blinks at me, her eyebrows lifted. Then she gives me a hesitant smile. “See, when you say things like that, it’s hard to resist you.”
“Good. I don’t want you to resist me.”
“I punch in my sleep sometimes. You might regret this."
“Don’t care.” I close the distance between us. “Punch all you like.”
She swallows hard. I can see the war playing out behind her eyes—the urge to run versus the desire to stay. When she speaks again, her voice is softer. “I don’t find it easy when things change. The idea of staying in your room is scary. It feels like we’re really moving in together.”
I nod, keeping myself from touching her with an effort. “If it makes you feel better, I have my entire construction team working on the gym renovations. In around three weeks, you’ll get your old bedroom in the gym back.”
“Thank you.”
I nod, not saying what I’m thinking, which is that I’m banking on her being too happy in my bed to consider going back.
It doesn’t matter that she only brought a small bag.
My team at the gym will carefully box up all her personal items and keep them safe.
And when she’s ready, I’ll have them brought up to my apartment. Once she’s decided to stay.
Not that I’m going to tell her that yet. She needs me to move slowly, so there’s no sense in coming on too strong and scaring her.
“You’re welcome to the guest room if you need your own space, but I can’t pretend I don’t want you in my bed, Jamie.
" I brush my fingers along her jaw, tilting her face up. “If you insist on the guest room, I’ll respect that. Even if it drives me crazy knowing you’re down the hall where I can't touch you.”
Her breath hitches. For a long moment, she just stares at me, and I can feel the weight of her uncertainty. Then, finally, she nods.
"All right, Demolition Man.” Her lips curve up. "Hope you’re ready for my mess in your bedroom, and to get an elbow in your ribs at 2 a.m."
Relief floods through me. I hide my triumphant grin as I help her unpack her bag, watching as she fills a drawer with her workout clothes. Each item she puts away feels like a victory, like she's accepting the space I’m giving her, making it hers.
"Your closet is ridiculous," she announces, peering inside. "Who needs this many suits?"
“There’s some space for your clothes. Need more?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t bring many things that need hanging.”
I catch her around the waist, pulling her back against my chest. “Then I should take you shopping,” I murmur in her ear. “You can try on clothes for me.”
She shivers, but her voice is stern. “Don’t think you can dress me like a doll.”
“You’re right. I’d rather undress you.” I press my lips to her neck where it meets her shoulder. When she tilts her head to give me better access, heat pools in my gut.
"Ethan..." It comes out breathy, almost a moan, and my cock jerks.
“You smell delicious," I murmur. Then I turn her toward me so I can kiss her lips.
She tastes like coffee and chocolate. She fists her hands in my shirt and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss until we're both breathless.
Her hands slide up my chest, and I groan as her nails scrape lightly through my shirt.
“I haven’t finished my tour of your apartment,” she mumbles against my lips.
“We’ll do it later." I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed. "Right now, I want to mess up the bed. Someone told me this room is too tidy, and I need to fix that problem immediately.”
She doesn't argue, but pulls me into another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier. I lose myself in the taste of her, in the way she arches against me when I slide my hands under her tank top.
We fall onto the bed together, and her tank top comes off, followed quickly by my shirt. When I palm her breast through her sports bra, she makes a sound that shoots straight to my groin.
"God, Jamie." I trail kisses down her throat, loving the way she writhes beneath me. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Show me," she breathes.
I do. I worship every inch of her, memorizing what makes her gasp, what makes her moan. When I finally slide into her, her nails digging into my back and her legs locked around my hips, it feels like coming home.
Afterward, she curls into my side, her breath evening out against my chest. I cradle her body against mine, and lie awake, listening to the soft sounds she makes when she sleeps.
I stroke my fingers through her hair, thinking about how much better my bedroom feels with her in it. How much warmer and more alive.
She needs me to go slow, and I’m going to try. But I know where she belongs, and it’s here, with me. And I’m going to do everything in my power to prove that to her.