He’s going to have to fall in love.
But I’m going to have to keep myself from doing the same.
Chapter Sixteen
Jett
Angelica sends me a text message at 5:30.
I didn’t overstay my welcome, did I? ;)
Hell no.
My nerve endings light up when I think about Saturday night...and Sunday morning. Angelica’s body fits to mine like she was made for me. Burying my cock inside her has to be the greatest pleasure I’ve ever experienced in my life. And somehow—some fucking how—she’s actually interested in me, Jett Brandon, not Jett Brandon the billionaire.
She asked me questions throughout the day, her voice tentative, never pushy. She listened without interrupting, the pink tip of her tongue resting on her upper lip. Concentrating on the answers. No dollar signs in her eyes.
Looking back, that’s all I ever saw in Emerald’s. She wanted my capital and my name even more than she wanted to sleep with me. That was just an added bonus.
I’ve been replaying the weekend over again in my head all day, and each time I picture Angelica beneath me on the bed, lips parted, cheeks pink, crying out, my skin heats up.
I’m supposed to be in control, but I want her to be digging her nails into my chest, riding me hard. No space between us.
It could work.
I shut down that thought. I’m not even willing to follow it through to its conclusion.
But it creeps back in.
After two nights? Not a chance.
Phew...I’ll see you back at your place then
Where are you?
Getting into a cab right now
My next text is to Stuart.
Bring the car around. Going home.
Angelica is in the lobby when I get there, eyes closed, head tilted back.
“Thinking dirty thoughts?”
She laughs a little, but when she turns to look at me, there’s a hint of a frown on her face. “Just enjoying the air conditioning.”
My reply is on my lips—You’d enjoy it a lot more without those clothes—but she raises a hand to her temple, catches herself before her fingers make contact. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, something I can’t quite discern—but it makes me think she’s not in the mood to have her clothes stripped off and her body played like an instrument, even by me.
Under any other circumstance, my jaw would already be tight right along with my chest, a disappointment that I would never give anyone the satisfaction of showing boiling in my gut. But this little movement from Angelica has me feeling something else entirely—warmth.
I want to take her hand, take her upstairs, and....
And what?
Order something she’ll think is extravagant to eat.
Show her the clothes I had delivered today, an entire wardrobe in her size, pieces for every fathomable occasion that could arise over the next couple of weeks.
I want my hands all over her, but on her shoulders, kneading the tension away.
And when it’s gone....
Then I’ll take her to the bedroom.
Instead, I start with, “Stressful day at work?”
Angelica blows her breath out through her lips, then smiles brightly up at me, shaking it off. Something about the way she’s so determined not to let it get to her makes my heart speed up. “Par for the course.”
Still, I want to know.
I put my hand on her elbow and guide her toward the elevator. “Your boss?”
“She was no picnic today.”
I press the call button and the elevator car arrives moments later, and we step inside. The seclusion of the car has my heart pounding in my ears, but I resist the urge to press her up against the wall and kiss her so fiercely it melts the foundation of the building.
Angelica stays close to me, taking another deep breath and letting it out.
“Hey.”
She glances up at me, and our eyes lock together.
“You wanted to know more about me over the weekend.”
This makes a little pink rise to her cheeks. “Still do.”
“I want to know more about you, too.”
Her laugh is clear and melodic. “I thought you said this wasn’t a romance.”
“It’s not a romance,” I say, but it feels like a lie. The elevator glides to a halt when we reach my floor, and we step out and walk across the hall to go inside my penthouse. “It’s just that I can’t very well take you to the bedroom and fuck you if your head is still at work.”
Angelica’s eyes go wide and innocent. “You can’t?” She shrugs off her purse, setting it on the table in the foyer, and tilts her head, considering me. “What would you do instead?”
This woman.
I step closer to her and give her a roguish grin. “My original plan was to order in from Sasabune, then give you a massage and take you on a tour of your new wardrobe—”