Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Leave now. Get out before I’m in too deep and drag him down with me.
He didn’t act drunk, but I’m going to chalk up this night and the emotions we tangled ourselves up in and blame it on the alcohol and holiday.
Jackson’s friendship is worth protecting, even from myself, because I couldn’t stop myself from falling for him.
Falling?
No. That’s not possible.
This is too much to think about at six in the morning.
It will be best if I just start that walk home now to get it over with. After all, there is no shame in my heel game. And these red soles are still stunning even at this hour.
I open the door and head for the elevator, also not ashamed of leaving at sunrise. Why would I be? I have needs and desires, and I enjoy feeling pleasure. Weaker men tell me I fuck like a man because I can walk away right after. What can I say? It’s a specialty of mine. Clearly. But if their egos are too fragile, then we have no business tangling in the sheets either.
Cutting through the lobby straight to the sidewalk to call a cab, I raise my arm into the air. I think cabbies know this time of hour is golden for getting low-key fares. One pulls to the curb, and I hop in, giving the driver my address.
As the cab drives away, I don’t bother looking back, but my chest twists in doubt. Maybe I shouldn’t have left while he was sleeping. What’s he going to think when he wakes up? Or maybe it won’t matter because it usually doesn’t.
Last night mattered.
It did to me.
I’m sure it did to him.
We both know it was different. The night was infused with feelings, even if we did put off delving into deeper conversations.
Should I have left a note or made coffee or something to ease that blow? Unlike most men, nothing about Jackson is delicate. He gives as good as he gets and never thinks twice about walking away when he knows it’s not right.
Will he know we’re not right together?
By the way we kissed, I’m thinking everything might be a little messy in his mind as well. Why’d we cross that line? Was it a statement for us to make, to taste and test before we walk away? Were we proving something or making it worse?
It wasn’t just a kiss to me. I felt that embrace in my toes. I’ve never been kissed like that—kissed with so much emotion that reached inside me and cradled some deep hidden part of me. His touch sets my body on fire and my heart beating like a drum. He consumes with a look, and then I’m supposed to walk away like my soul wasn’t just devoured.
Kissing Jackson St. James is everything I ever dreamed a kiss would be. But we’re not supposed to be real. I’m a friend with benefits, at best. That’s the zone I feel most comfortable residing in when it comes to him and whatever this is between us.
But there’s one thing I can’t deny.
That kiss just changed everything.
5
Jackson
Marlow’s gone.
Just as the front door clicks closed, I open my eyes to find the empty spot where she slept curled in my arms not fifteen minutes ago.
I should say I’m surprised, but I’m not.
She was unaware that I saw the debate warring through her body language while she got dressed, unsure if she should leave, and checking on me. She doesn’t know that her voice filtered in from the living room when she called Tealey early in the morning hours.
No, she doesn’t know that I was awake. But I know she struggles with matters of the heart. Can’t say I don’t either, but I got myself into this situation, so all’s fair in love and war as the saying goes.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I know she didn’t want to leave. But I can’t help but wish she hadn’t and chose to stay.
6
Marlow
“Hello?”
“Just got up, and I’m having coffee,” Tealey says. “Rad, naturally, has already worked out, showered, made breakfast, and now he’s squeezing in some work before—”
“How many cups have you had?”
“Two, but who’s counting?”
I feel like I just got dropped into the middle of a conversation. “I haven’t had my coffee yet, though, so slow down, Teals.”
She laughs as I pad down the hall toward the kitchen just after eleven. The silk of my pajama top and the shorts I slipped on after showering when I got home catch in the air behind me, and I shiver from the chill.
As if she’s been dying to call me all morning, she asks, “What are we doing today? We always hang out on January first and usually relive all the juicy details from New Year’s Eve, but I haven’t heard from anyone.”
I drop the capsule in the coffee machine and push the button. “You know my story already, so I’m not sure I’m up for anything.” That’s when I spy the document still on the counter. Ugh. No, I’m in no mood for that today. I shove it in my junk drawer and then walk to a window lining the wall of my living room. “I have a slight headache, and I need food.” I open the fridge and scan the mostly empty shelves. “At times like these, I really miss living with you and Cam.”