“Blake.” Oh, the warning in his tone.
He’s close to snapping and I’m a bitch because I want to keep mashing that button until he explodes. What will happen when he does? Will he rip off my clothes and fuck me right here on this couch? Will he haul me out of his house and slam the door in my face? I don’t know, and because I don’t know, I can’t stop myself from inciting him. “Jonas.”
“I might be an asshole, but even I have lines. Fucking the college-aged daughter of my friend and boss under his roof crosses that line.”
He’s right, and I know he’s right, but that doesn’t stop me from saying, “We’re not under his roof now.”
Jonas pulls back the tiniest bit, staring down at me like he’s sure I’m joking. I should be joking. If sex was a bad idea at that Christmas party six years ago, it’s an even worse idea now. If I want him to say yes to working with me for this account, fucking him will muddy the waters irreparably. And if I do and then he says yes and it gets out…
Our industry isn’t particularly large. I’ve never worried overmuch about image or tried to play a role to get me ahead. But even I can’t deny that reputation matters.
Why would it get out?
I shut down the little voice, because I can already see the answer written all over Jonas’s face. The rejection. He sure does like telling me no, and he confirms it when he shoves back. “No.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Blake.”
“I get it. Really, I do.” My body might be a little slower to come to terms with it. A steady heat pulses through me and I feel simultaneously too light and far too anchored in my skin. I push to my feet and try not to hold it against him when he takes a measured step back as if determined to preserve the distance between us. “I think it’s best I, uh, go to bed.” It’s not late, but the alternative is staying in his presence a moment longer than strictly necessary. I’ve already proven I have garbage self-control when it comes to this man. There’s no need to press my luck any further.
“Yeah,” he says slowly, and he really needs to stop watching me like that because it’s getting the wires crossed in my head. “Do you need anything out of your car?”
“My bag. I—”
“I’ll get it.” He’s gone before I can argue, leaving me blinking after him. I have the sneaking suspicion that Jonas just ran from me, but I can take a hint. Eventually. I have a healthy self-esteem, but I have no desire to keep throwing myself at a guy that’s rejected me twice. No matter how sexy he is or how he watches me like he wants to consume me whole. I look at pumpkin donuts the same way, and I don’t want to fuck them.
Jonas returns a few moments later and, from the way his white shirt is plastered to his chest, it’s still raining hard outside. The fabric clings lovingly to the curves of his pecs and the… No. No, no, no. I am not going to stand here and ogle him, and I’m certainly not going to let my eyes linger at his hips to see if there’s a cock imprint on his jeans.
Instead, I snag the bag out of his hands and flee upstairs.
4
It takes all of five seconds in Jonas’s bed to realize I’ve made a horrible mistake. The feeling starts when I brushed my teeth in his bathroom with the spare toothbrush, and only gets worse when I pull back the sheets and the scent of him hits me. He must have more than his fair share of pheromones or something, because just that hit has my thighs shaking. I almost march back downstairs and demand to take the couch, but it would mean another interaction with him, and I’m not certain I can do it without making an ass of myself. Again.
I grit my teeth and climb into his bed.
Oh, fuck, it’s amazing. The sheets are flannel and instantly banish the chill of the room. It would be positively cozy if I wasn’t so horny that I’m about to come out of my skin. Every shift of my body has the sheets rubbing against my bare legs, my arms, and sends another hit of Jonas’s intoxicating scent straight through me.
I bite my bottom lip hard, but it does nothing to dispel the lust weaving its way through me. I should just close my eyes and count my exhales until I drift off, but I’m too restless. I’m a night owl by nature. If I were home, I would still be up for hours yet. Obviously, that’s not an option here. Better to close my eyes and will myself to sleep until morning and my escape from this house.