“You know what Chloe said to me this morning?” he says, flopping into the chair across from me as though I want him there.
“That she regrets moving in with you?” I mutter without looking up.
“She said, and I quote, ‘Jackson, if you were a spice, you’d be flour.’”
That makes me glance up. “Flour’s not a spice.”
“Exactly!” He throws up his hands, completely outraged. “She said I lack flavor! Me!”
I rub my temples. I hate this guy.
Jackson backstabbed me in literally the worst way possible, but there’s something almost childlike about him. Like a Labrador who got too big too fast and still thinks he can fit on your lap. None of that changes that he’s dumb as shit, and fucking an asshole though.
Good luck with that, Chloe.
That’s what she needed all along. Someone she could mold. Control. Keep beneath her heel. With Jackson,shegets to be the prize. The pedestal. The adult in the room. She could never have that with me. I was never going to bow to her, beg for attention, play small.
We were equals.
Chloe didn’t want an equal—she wanted someone to raise.
And me? I wanted a partner.
Which brings me back to Rorie.
Everything about her flips a switch in me I didn’t know was there. Lust, yeah, but not the shallow kind. It’s something else. It’s bigger. Scarier.
Sure, I want to ravage her in so many creative ways. Pin her against every surface and leave her questioning reality, like the world only makes sense when we’re skin to skin.
But I respect her. And I want to protect her.
Also hand her the damn world and watch her light it on fire.
She’s not casual. Not even close.
And the terrifying part?
I could see myself dating her.
I didn’t plan on thinking that. Ever. But it’s there. Itching at the back of my mind like a splinter refusing to be ignored.
Jackson props his feet up on the corner of my desk. “Speaking of spice… who’s got you all twisted up like a pretzel? You’ve been staring at that screen like it killed your dog.”
“Get out,” I say.
“Can’t. Too invested now.” He leans back and folds his arms behind his head. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that woman from the other night, would it?”
I don’t answer.
He grins. “The one who hijacked your moment?”
My jaw ticks.
Jackson whistles low. “Damn, man. She’s got you by the balls?”
Understatement.
Yeah, it’s true. I haven’t stopped reeling over Rorie Adams.
