Good. Want you thinking about me. Want you remembering exactly how I made you feel.
I pushed my pants down, wrapping my hand around myself properly. Already slick at the tip, sensitized from the memories flooding through me.Brent—
Wish I was there. Wish I could taste you again. Make you fall apart the way you did that last night.
God. I stroked slowly, remembering. The way he'd pinned my hips to the bed. The heat of his mouth, the suction, the obscene wet sounds. The way he'd looked up at me, eyes dark and pupils blown, like watching me come undone was better than anything else he could imagine.
Keep talking,I typed with my free hand, barely able to coordinate the movement.
Would start slow. Kiss you until you were begging for it. Then work my way down. Take my time even though you'd be trying to rush me.
The images flooded my mind in vivid detail. His mouth on my throat, my chest, my hip bones. The scrape of stubble against sensitive skin. His hands holding me down when I tried to move.
Miss being inside your mouth,I switched to voice texting.The way you moaned around me. Like you wanted it as much as I did.
More. Wanted it more. You taste so fucking good, Jason. The sounds you make when I'm working you. The way your thighs shake.
That did it. I came hard, biting my lip to stay quiet even though there was no one to hear, Brent's words echoing in my head and pleasure rolling through me in waves. My hand kept moving, working myself through it until I was oversensitive and shaking, the sheets damp beneath me.
For a long moment I just lay there, catching my breath, my body satisfied but somehow lonelier than before. The bedroom felt cavernous around me, the silence pressing in.
My phone buzzed:Better?
I laughed shakily, my free hand trembling as I typed.Much. You?
Yeah. Though now I'm just lying here in this hotel room counting down the hours until I can actually touch you again instead of just imagining it.Get some sleep, Jason. Dream of me.
Always.
I cleaned up and settled back into bed, my body relaxed now but my heart aching in a different way. The time until I'd see him again suddenly felt like an impossible distance.
However many days it would be of sleeping alone, waking alone, going through the motions of my regular life while half of me was a thousand miles away on the other side of the country, probably reading or staring out the window or thinking about me the way I couldn't stop thinking about him.
I fell asleep with my phone on the pillow beside me, Brent's note still open on my laptop screen across the room, and my body still humming with the memory of his touch and the promise of more to come.
However long it took, I could survive it. I had to.
Chapter 9
Brent
I'd been home from the retreat for less than twelve hours when I finally opened my email.
I'd been ignoring it all week—turning off notifications, letting messages pile up while I was at the lodge with Jason. Telling myself I deserved a break, that it could wait. That for once, I could put my life ahead of my career.
Apparently, my career disagreed.
Forty-three unread from my agent, Cassandra. Twenty-seven from my publisher. Twelve from my publicist about events I'd missed, interviews I'd declined, opportunities I was apparently letting slip through my fingers.
I scrolled through Cassandra's emails, watching the progression from professional to frantic:
URGENT: Contract offer waiting
BRENT - Publisher needs answer
WHERE ARE YOU?
This is getting ridiculous. Call me.
