A Wicked Game(25)

He came back, scooped her up into his arms, and took her to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He kissed her temple. “Taking care of you.” Jack stepped in the bathroom and set her down.

Tori stepped in the Jacuzzi tub, welcoming the heat of the water clambering up her legs. Jack followed her in and slid down, taking a seat. He pulled her to him, and she sat in front of him. Tori rested her head on his chest, sinking until the bath bubbles touched her chin. Closing her eyes, her muscles loosened with the warmth of the water enveloping her.

A mix of excitement, fear, and doubt filled her chest. She hadn’t planned for any of this to happen—or to fall hard for him. Giving it some more thought, how could this not have happened when, during the past three months, she’d spent more time with him than with her friends? When she’d spent more time at his place than at hers? Did he feel the same way she did? God, she hoped so because she didn’t know how she’d react if he didn’t.

“Victoria,” he said.

She shifted, burying her face in his chest. “Yes.”

Jack stroked her arms. “I’m leaving.”

Her back stiffened. The water temperature changed from warm to cold—at least, it felt that way to her. Those simple words had the power of a punch, leaving her out of breath. “Where are you going?” she asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

“Tokyo.”

“Tokyo?” Shit. He couldn’t go any farther away.

He exhaled. “Yes. I have some business issues I have to deal with.”

She squeezed her eyes close. Of course this would happen when she felt most vulnerable. “When are you leaving?” Tori bit the inside of her cheek, hoping the self-induced pain would take her attention away from the heartache building little by little in her chest.

He remained silent for a moment. “Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? You haven’t even packed.” Did he have any idea of what this did to her? Tonight had been a great deal for her, letting him do with her body whatever the hell he pleased, and for what? He’d be leaving tomorrow. She wouldn’t make a big deal, that wasn’t her style. Even if she did, it’d be useless. He’d had many opportunities to tell her before now. She hated to admit it was evident that he’d decided not to say a word. What did he expect her to say? How would any other woman feel or react to something like this? She had willingly surrendered her body to him, thinking there could maybe be more. What a stupid thought.

“Yeah, I’ve got my stuff ready at my other place.”

Tori swallowed back the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry—no, she couldn’t. “How long will you be gone?” She hated asking those questions. She sounded like the girlfriend she wasn’t—and would never be.

“A month or two, tops. It depends on how things go.” He wrapped his hand around her nape, his fingers kneading her tense muscles.

She could ask him why he hadn’t said anything until now. She should, but what would she gain? He’d leave, she’d stay, and there’d never been anything close to serious between them. She took deep breaths, trying to control her disappointment, sadness, and most of all, the damn tears pooling in her eyes. His leaving wasn’t a real breakup because he couldn’t break up something that never existed.

“I hope things work out for you.” She pushed away from him, ready to stand, but he held on to her waist.

He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tori, I’ll call you every time I get a chance. All right?”

She studied his expression, wishing she could see deeper than his troubled blue gaze allowed her to. “I’m sure you will.” She choked out the words. Deep inside her she knew he wouldn’t call. She hoped he’d prove her wrong because it’d hurt too much if he didn’t.

“I promise.” He kissed her.





Chapter Sixteen





One week later

“Hi, Jack. It’s Tori. Um… I called to say hi. Hope all is working out for you. Call me when you have a chance.”

Jack glanced around his hotel suite, playing her message a few more times before he saved it. He looked at the time and ran a hand over his face. The sixteen hour difference between LA and Tokyo wasn’t exactly on his side, or maybe it was. He wanted to call her, even if just to hear her voice on her voicemail, but thanks to his friend’s unsolicited advice, he had a lot of thinking to do.

Who the fuck believed three months were enough time to decide whether to continue seeing someone or not? Three months weren’t enough. Fuck. Six months wouldn’t be long enough either—not in his opinion. He couldn’t put a timeframe on stopping or continuing to date someone. Things worked out or they didn’t, regardless of time spent together. Who does that? Fucking Ethan. He had him to thank for the confusion pestering his mind.