20. Georgia
Chapter twenty
Georgia
I groan, grappling for my phone to shut off the stupid alarm. Rolling over, I slap at the other side of the bed. “Noah,” I say, wincing at how sore I am. He doesn’t respond, forcing me to open an eye, ready to shake him. “Noah…”
But he’s not here. Shifting to my back, I blink at the ceiling as everything that happened last night begins to register.
The only thing I regret is you.
Prude ass bitch.
I should have never let him back in. I know the kind of person he is—it’s why I ended our relationship in the first place. I also know his other side, the manipulative side that made me forget how much of a raging asshole he is.
Then the confrontation with his friend comes rushing back, and chills skate down my spine. I push myself upright, wincing at the dull ache spreading through my body. Slowly, I lift my shirt, my breath catching at the deep, angry marks where his fingers dug into me. Shades of purple and blue stain my ribs. Fingerprints ghost along my side in a cruel reminder of how hard he held me. I swallow hard, tracing one of the bruises with trembling fingers. The soreness lingers, but it’s nothing compared to the unease curling in my stomach.
I should have woken Jackson up. Vince crossed the line. Noah’s words held a bite, but his friend’s dripped with venom. Behind his goofy smile was something dark.
A knock at my door startles me, and I drop my shirt. The doorknob twists, but I locked it last night. The knock sounds again. “Georgia?”
Jackson.
I climb out of bed and open the door. “Hey.”
“Morning. Why’s your door locked?”
Tell him. He needs to know. “I… didn’t realize I locked it.” He stares into my eyes, and I worry he can sense I’m lying. “Why are you up so early?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about doing this.” He steps into my room and captures the back of my neck before claiming my mouth. The thoughts of Noah and his scummy friend vanish as I focus on how wonderful Jackson’s lips feel against mine. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, sucking in my bottom lip. His hand wraps around me, putting pressure on my hips, and I wince. He pulls back. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I just wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped, bumped into the bed frame.”
His smile returns, and he dips, reclaiming my lips. “You need to be more careful. Maybe you should start sleeping in my bed so I can take care of you.” I sigh against his mouth. His lips part, and I taste the mint on his tongue.
“We would have a lot of explaining to do if that happened,” I say, then open wider as he increases the pressure of our kiss.
“I’m mentoring you. It’s a full-time job.” He smiles against my lips. The sound of Noah’s shower turning on interrupts our moment, and Jackson groans, pulling away. “To be continued.” He steps back, his gaze filled with desire. What I wouldn’t do to invite him into my shower and enjoy a quick morning fuck.
“’Til next time, Mr. Blake,” I tease, pushing him out of my room before I change my mind and drag him into my bathroom. He chuckles and makes his exit. When I shut my door, I press my back against the wood, letting out a sigh. “Fuck me…” How did I get so lucky to find someone like him? Amazing. Too hot for his own good. Mine.
I push off the door and get ready for work. As I make my way down to the kitchen, the dread of seeing Noah settles heavily in my chest. A part of me doubts he even remembers. I’ve been there plenty of times, on the other end of his apologies for shit he doesn’t remember.
“Morning,” I say cautiously.
“Georgia,” Jackson purrs. I cross my arms over my chest, hiding the sudden pebbling of my nipples.
When I glance over at the island, I spot Noah slung over, eating a bowl of cereal. He doesn’t bother addressing me. Asshole. I hope he pissed himself last night—another downfall of sleeping with him when he gets plastered.
“Mr. Blake, I was wondering if I could catch a ride with you today.” That gets Noah’s attention. His bloodshot eyes find mine, and his lips thin into a displeased frown.
Jackson takes a sip of his coffee, masking the humor on his face. “I don’t see why not.”
“What the fuck’s your problem?” Noah bites out.
“You’re a drunk asshole— that’s my problem,” I snap back.
“Noah, watch your language.” Jackson attempts to intervene.
Noah pushes his bowl across the island, milk splashing. “Whatever.” He straightens to leave, stopping right next to me. “And you’re a bitch.” He shoves his shoulder into mine as he leaves the room.
“Noah!” Jackson yells, but he’s already gone. He gets up and walks over to me. “What was that about?”
“It’s nothing.” Tell him, Georgia.
“Didn’t look like nothing. Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Peach. Rules.”
“Nothing fucking happened, Jesus.” I step away, but he grabs my arm.
“Watch your tone with me.” His eyes seep with anger.
“Then stop trying to accuse me of something that’s not there.” I rip my arm from his grip and walk away. Noah’s door is shut, music blaring. Thinking he has the right idea, I retreat to mine, throwing myself onto my bed. Catching a ride with Jackson is now less appealing than driving with Noah. I huff and lay on my side. Today sounds like a great day to play sick.
My phone vibrates, and I dig for it, seeing a text from Jackson.
Mr. Blake: Would you forgive me if I offered the day off? Take the boat out early?
My fingers hover over the screen to reply but stop. It does sound appealing, but being near them both sounds quite the opposite.
Mr. Blake: I can’t control myself sometimes. I get jealous of anyone who has the honor of your attention. I just want you all for myself. Forgive me for being an asshole. I’d like to make it up to you. Please say yes.
Fuck. How the hell do I stay mad after a text like that? He admitted he’s jealous. For a man like Jackson, that had to take a lot. And it’s super hot.
Me: I accept. For now. But you’ll need to apologize in a lot of other ways later.
I attach a tongue and splash emoji to clarify my terms.
Mr. Blake: The best kind of punishment. insert smiley face
My cheeks flush, and I giggle. I never imagined Jackson being accustomed to using emojis. I’ll take the cute gesture and the day off. Too bad it can’t be just us.
The ride downtown is torture. The uncomfortable silence is suffocating. Jackson tries to make conversation with Noah, but he’s in his dick mood and semi-green. Serves him right. Every so often, Jackson finds my eyes through the rearview mirror, creating a heat between my thighs. When he licks his lips, I know he’s imagining it’s my lips he’s licking. I’m tempted to suggest we stop at a gas station and kick Noah out of the car.
My eyes widen as we walk down the pier where Jackson’s boat is docked. “Um… this isn’t a boat.”
Jackson chuckles. “Pretty sure it is.” Noah doesn’t say a word as he walks past us onto the yacht. “Do you need assistance climbing on?” He reaches for my hand, knowing I don’t need any help. It’s an excuse to touch me. My hand slides into his, and a spark reverberates between us, an electric current that sends shivers down my spine. The tension is undeniable. Dangerous. “After you, Peach,” he says softly, aware Noah may hear.
I step onto the yacht, basking in its beauty. “This is seriously amazing. I’ve never been on a boat this big. Or at all.”
“I’m glad I can be your first.”
I turn, smiling at him. “You’ve been a lot of firsts.” His eyes flash with a need I understand all too well. I’m about to add another wicked comment when a voice interrupts.
“S’up, my friends?” We both look up as Vince walks up the dock and jumps on the boat. My stomach churns, and I instantly wrap my arms around myself.
“Vince, what are you—?”
“I invited him,” Noah states, cutting Jackson off.
Vince walks closer. “Thanks for having me, Mr. Blake.” His eyes fall on mine. “Hey there, Georgia.” He winks at me, sending my stomach into convulsions, then goes down a narrow hallway with Noah.
“Are you okay? Do you get seasick? We can cancel—”
I don’t realize I’m trembling until Jackson's words register. “No. I’m fine.”
“You sure? You’re pale.”
I do my best to shake off the nervousness and slap on a smile. “No, I’m good. Honestly. Probably just hungry.”
“Let’s get my girl something to eat then.” His wink soothes the uneasiness. I waggle my brows, showing him I’m indeed fine. We head down to the lower deck, where trays full of fruits, cheeses, and meats are laid out. My stomach growls. “Is that for the food or something else?”
I cock my head. “Definitely the food. This all looks so fancy.”
“Glad you like it. Eat up. You’ll need your energy.”
I wasn’t sure we’d have any alone time while sailing. The boat is practically the size of my childhood home, so finding a space away from Noah wouldn’t be impossible. I’m just not sure how smart it is.
I make a plate and head to the upper deck. We’ve already set sail. Jackson tells me he has to make a few work calls, so I spend the next hour basking in the peacefulness of the water. My eyes grow heavy and on the verge of closing when a shadow looms over me.
Noah.
“Go away,” I say, closing my eyes.
“We need to talk.”
“We sure as hell don’t. You said enough last night.”
“I was fucking hammered.”
I sit up and push my sunglasses to the top of my head so he can see how serious I am. “I don’t give a shit. That was my final straw. Every single time I give you the benefit of the doubt, you prove me right, and I’m the asshole who should’ve known better. You will never change.”
“I fucked up, Jesus.”
“You always fuck up!” I raise my voice. “You are not a good person. You’re angry and hateful. You hurt people without a single thought of how it affects them.”
“And you’re so fucking innocent?”
“At least I’m not a miserable asshole who lashes out at others because he’s too much of a coward to face his own shit.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not a chance in hell I’d ever touch you again.” He steps toward me, something feral flickering behind his eyes. His jaw clenches, his chest rising and falling like he’s holding back a scream or a punch. That fire behind his gaze is back, the same storm I’ve seen so many times before. “I dare you,” I say, my voice calm and steady. We’ve danced this line more times than I can count. And not once have I ever been afraid of him.
Because I know he won’t hurt me.
But I do see the battle raging behind his eyes—the way he’s barely holding himself together. His fists stay at his sides, twitching. His chest rises fast, too fast, like something inside him is trying to claw its way out.
He closes the distance between us and grabs my cover-up, knuckles whitening with the force of it. But even now, there’s hesitation in him. He’s not trying to scare me. He’s trying not to break.
“What? Are you gonna hit me or something?” I ask softly, meeting his eyes.
And that’s when it flickers—just for a moment. The fury stutters, something else slipping through the cracks. Confusion. Guilt. Fear. Not of me. Of himself.
“I’m—Fuck, I’m sorry, I—” He releases the fabric slowly, hands falling away like the weight of them finally caught up to him.
“Am I interrupting something?” Jackson’s voice breaks the moment.
Noah steps back without looking at his father, eyes still on mine. I don’t see hatred now. Just a man unraveling under the pressure of secrets he won’t share. “Nope,” he mutters, and walks away.
“Wanna explain that one?” Jackson asks, his tone less accusatory.
“Like he said, it was nothing.”
“Didn’t look like nothing—”
“Jackson, I know you don’t want to hear this, but Noah and I have a past. There are things you don’t know and things I’m not going to share. We were good, but a lot of the time, we were not. This breakup was not his choice. He’s angry and lashing out.”
“He needs to get over it. He can’t treat you like that.”
“He just needs time. Leave it be. Poking him will only make things worse.”
He steps closer but leaves a decent amount of space between us. The breeze picks up, lifting my cover-up.
“What the fuck are those?” Jackson’s sudden change of mood startles me, his eyes trained on my hips.
“I told you I ran into the bed.”
He extends his hand toward me, then thinks better of it and drops it back to his side. “The bed.”
I reattach the string of my cover-up, worried he’ll see the other side. Highly unlikely he’ll believe the other bedpost caused those. “Are you finished with your calls?”
He takes a short beat to snap out of his fury. “I still have some emails to send.”
“Good. Why don’t you bring your laptop out here? You can take the table in front of me. I can get a tan while you finish. I promise you the best view in the house.” His eyes travel over to the table directly in front of my lounge chair, giving him a front-row show to look between my legs.
“You drive a hard bargain, Peach.”
“I aim to please, Mr. Blake.”
He growls, wiping his hand across his lips. “I don’t know how I’m going to last the whole day without eating your sweet pussy.”
“Sounds like a fun game of who can keep their hands to themself longer.”
His eyes light with desire. He’s demanded I masturbate for him on quite a few occasions, and it’s been hot as hell. He always loses control and takes over, fucking me with his fingers, his tongue. Right now is no different.
“You touch yourself, and I’ll have your ass sore for days.”
“Game on, Daddy .”
At his growl, heat unfurls in my belly. He hates it when I call him ‘daddy.’ “Be ready to pay for that, little girl.”
“Counting on it.” He adjusts his slacks to hide his hard-on. Then, before he gives in and pulls me into his arms, he stalks off.