“That’s not true. You don’t tease. You’re not that guy.”
“What if I want to be that guy?” I asked, not completely understanding my own damn question.
The last thing I needed was to become immersed in this back-and-forth with Sophie, but no matter how many times I told myself to let it go, to stop talking and just sit back down so she could finish her job for the day, my feet propelled me toward her as if they had a mind of their own. Like I was nothing more than a puppet being controlled by my desire, the same desire I’d managed to keep imprisoned for all of seven days. I reached for her hand, and this time she didn’t pull away.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her gaze locked on to mine.
“I don’t know.” I’d told the truth, unsure what was going to happen next. I knew what I wanted to happen, but would that scenario truly come to fruition, or would one of us break the trance we seemed to find ourselves in and make the right move, which was not to cross any boundaries?
“You said you didn’t want this to happen.” She dropped her hand from mine but didn’t retreat. In fact, she stepped closer, her body resting against mine. “You’re not a nice guy, Jackson.”
“I know.”
“You act like you don’t want any distractions, refusing my advances—rightfully so, by the way—and make me want you more than before. But I agreed not to pursue you. And I agreed that things between us wouldn’t become awkward, yet here we are. I’m more confused now than before.”
“I know. Me too.”
“But you’re the one making this move. Not me,” she said. Her voice held conviction, but her posture was riddled with uncertainty.
“We can go on pretending not to feel something for each other, even if that thing is strictly sexual. But you and I both know that if we don’t scratch this itch, it’s only going to get worse.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the one who said you’d become unbearable with jealousy if I gave myself to you? Is that not true now?”
“Fuck! I did say that, didn’t I?” I started to smile, but she shook her head, and my expression evaporated.
“No, you don’t get to make jokes right now, even though I do enjoy seeing that side of you.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not, which is more annoying than you can imagine. But….”
“But what?”
She stared at me a moment before answering, “If we do this, scratch this itch, as you say, is that all it’ll be? One time?”
“Is that what you want?” I asked, curious as to what her answer would be.
“I’ve spent all my mental energy trying not to think of you in any other capacity other than my boss to the degree that I don’t know what I want now.”
She had every right to be cautious. In fact, I should’ve followed suit, but I was finding it harder to keep my need to touch her contained. I parted my lips to speak again, but Trevor walked into the room, stopping when he saw how close Sophie and I stood.
“What’s going on?” he asked, tilting his head and shooting daggers at me.
“Nothing,” Sophie answered. “We were just finishing up.” She sidestepped me and headed toward the door, never looking back at me. “He’s all yours.”
I moved toward Trevor, refusing to make eye contact because I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. He mumbled, “Mm-hmm,” as I passed him, and it took everything in me not to punch him.
As I stepped into the ring with Mickey, another sparring partner, I took several deep breaths. I needed to concentrate on my training and not on the woman who had my head all twisted up.
It was my fault, however, for stirring things back up between us.
27
I didn’t know what to think about my interaction with Jackson this morning. Just when I thought we were back on the strictly professional road, he veered off and told me he wanted to sleep with me. I was seconds away from agreeing when Trevor unknowingly saved me.
I busied myself in the office until Jackson was done training. While I worked on him afterward, the only thing we spoke about was his shoulder, and as soon as I was done, I hightailed it out of there and disappeared into my apartment. A part of me thought I should perhaps give up this job because things between the two of us were becoming complicated.
Abby’s name flashed across my phone. As I hovered over the Answer button, there was a knock on my door. It could only be one person. Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I debated not answering. I didn’t have it in me to engage in a back-and-forth with Jackson right now. Or hear his apology, if he offered one. Or remind him that it would be a bad move to give in to temptation.
