The Dirty Series 1(37)

There’ll be time for that later.

Her body in the curve-hugging outfits she wears is fucking irresistible, but I don’t push it.

Until the fourth day.

I’m coming back from a session with my trainer, expecting to find her still asleep in her bed…but she’s not there. The bed is neatly made, even though Gloria will be in to do that later.

I find her in the walk-in closet. I had most of her clothes brought here while she was still in the hospital so she’d have them if she needed them, but she hasn’t changed to another outfit for relaxation.

She’s dressed for work.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I keep my tone light and joking, and though she smiles at me when she turns to face me, her eyes are serious.

“Going back to work.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do.” She turns back to the full-length mirror, putting in her other earring.

“Cate, you need to take it easy. You shouldn’t be back to work for at least another week. Maybe two. I made it clear to Ms. Sarzó—”

“You did what?” There’s anger in her voice.

I could do any number of things, but instead I step forward and cover her mouth with mine, tasting her sweetness.

Instantly, she melts against me, and I fold her into my arms.

When she comes up for air, I bend my head to her ear. “Stay in bed with me today.”

She doesn’t resist when I lead her by the hand to the bed, strip off all of her carefully arranged clothing, and proceed to fuck her so slowly, so gently, it brings tears to her eyes.





Chapter Twenty-Six





Cate



Words don’t begin to describe how sweet things are with Jax.

Or how intense.

He didn’t want me to go to work yesterday, and it was all too easy to give into him. I know his dominating nature is still there, waiting for just the right opportunity to reappear, but my stay in the hospital seems to have calmed him.

It’s only temporary, I know.

I can’t say I mind seeing this softer side of him. The way he’s cared for me over the past week is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.

In the middle of our second day of full-time lounging in his enormous living room, I was completely overwhelmed by the desire for movie theater popcorn.

“Do you like going to the movies?”

I was curled up against his chest, tucked under his arm, and he twisted to look down at my face.

“I don’t mind the movies,” he said. “There are definitely a few theaters I’d choose over others. Why? Do you want to go out? I don’t know if—”

A look of worry crossed his face, and my heart warmed up to see him so concerned that a trip across town to the movies might be too much for me. It wouldn’t have been, but I rubbed his arm and laughed a little. “No, no. I just love movie theater popcorn. I’d watch three hours of previews with a bucket of that popcorn and be so thrilled.”

By the time I was finished talking he was pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Who are you—?” I laughed, still half disbelieving that this was real life.

“Michelle? Are you occupied at the moment?”

I couldn’t hear her reply.

“I’ll cover the fee if you go to the theater on Broadway between 83rd and 84th right now and return with two buckets of popcorn. Fifty as a bonus if it’s here while it’s still warm.”

Anything.

He’d get me anything.

All my life, I never aspired to wealth like Jax’s. It seemed like such an impossible goal and such a burden at the same time, and I do see that—how he takes his responsibilities so seriously.

In the middle of the movie we’re watching—The Devil Wears Prada, in a twist of irony—he puts his hand on mine. “If you could be doing anything for a job, what would it be?”

“Wow. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

I’m silent for a few minutes while I turn the question over in my mind.

“I didn’t start out loving fashion,” I say finally.

“No?”

“No. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. But I didn’t think it would pay the bills, so in college I double-majored in marketing and creative writing. When I moved to NYC I got a job at Basiqué in editorial, and I probably would have stayed there if my boss hadn’t recommended me to Sandra as a potential assistant.”

“So you’d be a writer?”

“Maybe one day. But I always thought—this is so stupid, because the Internet exists now—that it would be really fun to own my own publishing company. Now it would be more complicated, having to come out with digital books and all that, and probably nothing like what I’m imagining it was in the old days, but…that’s what I’d do.”