So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(171)

I’ve thumbed through half of the magazines by the time Jackson returns.

I raise the journal. “I’m impressed. You have wide and varied tastes in reading material.”

“I like to keep up with what’s new and interesting to people. I have staff that research and bring things to the table, but I’m active in the day to day stuff of the show as well as hosting.”

I nod. “Well, you obviously take your job more seriously than a lot of people might give you credit for. You work hard. That’s admirable.”

His chest puffs out a smidge as he comes to the back of the sofa and slides his hands over my shoulders. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Bull scrambles off the sofa, grabbing his toy and following Jackson.

We take a tour through the basement. There’s a wine cellar in one part, and a game room and exercise rooms also take up large portions of the walkout basement. The wide doors lead to a lanai located on the side of the house.

The main level has an extra couple of rooms I didn’t realize were there, one office and one bedroom. Out through the huge glass doors is a breathtaking view of the city below. A beautiful blue pool blends with the horizon.

“Wow, is that a negative edge pool?” My hand goes to the glass, but I pull back at the last second so I don’t leave a smudge in this perfect, flawlessly kept home.

Jackson hits a button at the end of the picture window-type doors. They slide open almost silently. Suddenly the inside feels like we’re outside. For December, the day is superb, with the shining sun, and a touch of warmth in the air.

Jack leads me onto the patio surrounding the pool. The pool sparkles like sequins on a turquoise evening gown, all the way to where the water flows over the edge into infinity.

Bull sniffs at the edge of the water.

Jackson deepens his tone and says, “Don’t even think about it. You just had a bath.”

He turns to me. “The pool was already here. I probably wouldn’t have built it, but I’ve enjoyed the shit out of it.” His voice rolls over me like warm caramel sauce on ice cream.

“I can only imagine.” My breath has officially been stolen.

Bull and I follow Jackson to the top floor.

Master’s level, he calls it. Yeah, master of my libido. A giant king sized bed sits on the far wall, perfectly made up, not a wrinkle in sight. I could wrinkle it up pretty good with Mr. Tremaine right about now.

And that’s all it takes. One thought, and my pussy pulses.

Jack opens the double doors at the end of the long room. “And here’s the master bath, all ready for you.”

“What? Me?” I pull in a breath, trying to calm my suddenly abnormal heart rate.

He takes my hand, massaging my pinky knuckle, and pulls me into a room almost as large as the bedroom.

Holy-rich-fuck-smokes.

The free-standing tub must be hewn from one piece of stone, black with small hints of other colors. It reflects its surroundings like someone spent an afternoon polishing it. Steamy bubbles rise well above the rim like so much cotton candy.

I swallow hard. I so don’t belong in this room. The chasm between Jack’s world and my own just grew by about fifty million dollar-length spaces.

“What’s wrong, Peaches?” Jack pulls my hand to his mouth and lays a slow, sweet kiss on my palm.

I whip around, heading for the doors. “I probably should get home. This is so not my speed.”

He takes my elbow, pulling me up short and right into his arms. “What speed? I don’t understand. I thought you’d want to clean up and get the blood out of your hair.”

“Yeah. No.”

He cocks his head. “Why not?”

I lay my hand over the circular, tribal tattoo on his naked chest. The one I’d really like to lick. But no. It’s not even an option.

“I can’t tell you how kind you’ve been. Honestly, it’s a wonderful side of you that I didn’t expect. But this,”—I tap his chest—“this can’t go on. You and me? Two totally different worlds. I don’t even understand why you’d be attracted to me. I’m so far removed from the girls I’ve seen you with on the covers of the rag sheets.”

He takes my hands and pulls them to his lips. “What you see isn’t always what’s real. This is Hollywood. The land of make-believe. You see what the press wants you to see, what my PR team pushes out to the public. Don’t worry. You’re my type.”

I purse my lips. “What type is that, exactly?”

His eyebrows go up, and he has that deer in the headlights look. But then, that sexy ass grin blows me away. “The smart type. A woman who’s driven to succeed at whatever she chooses to do. One whose natural sex appeal calls to mine so loudly that I can’t walk away.”