“You’re going to do what you always do—you’ll go in there and fight all of your emotions and kick some corporate ass. Then you’ll come home and wallow in your Ben & Jerry’s, be miserable, and cry yourself to sleep. Eventually, you’ll waste all your chances for a real connection and sabotage your own happiness.” She shrugs and refuses to break eye contact.
I gasp at the cruelty—and accuracy—of her statement. “What the hell, Ashton?”
“Sorry, Cat, but it’s true. You knew things were wrong with Neil, but instead of leaving him, you got engaged. Before him there was Eli. You stayed with him for years because he was safe and you thought you deserved the sheer hell he put you through. I’m not trying to hurt you.” She scoots over and puts her arm around me, pulling me into a hug. “I’m just telling you that whether this guy was your client or not, you’d find a reason to destroy yourself over him.”
My heart clenches at her words. It hurts so much coming from Ashton. I know she loves me, but I hate what she’s saying. “I don’t understand why every guy I meet or date lets me down.”
“You need to stop looking for this perfect guy. You need to get out of your own head and start having fun. Once the product is released, who knows where you and this Jackson guy will be? Maybe you’ll like him. Maybe he’ll be the world’s biggest piece of shit. Either way, you need to figure you out before you fret about all this. Monday morning, go to your meeting, be the kick-ass girl I know you are, and blow them all away.” She smiles reassuringly before picking up the empty wine glasses and bottles and heading into the kitchen.
I grab a pillow and clutch it to my chest. She’s right. It’s not like I even know Jackson or have any connection to him, other than this crazy feeling I get when I’m around him. I need to focus on my life for once. I don’t have to take anyone else into account. The realization is liberating. Now I need to figure out a way to make my body stop reacting to Jackson and all his sexiness.
Chapter Eight
For the third night in a row, I’ve slept like complete shit. I tossed and turned all night, tormented by images of Jackson and me rolling around in my bed. It was pure heaven. Then I woke up and realized none of the amazing things he just did to me were real. Now I’m all keyed up and have to go to a meeting where I’ll spend the majority of my time trying not to stare at his gorgeous face. I groan and roll over, punching my pillow, wishing that I could call in sick today. But I’m no chicken shit, so I throw my covers off and head into the bathroom.
I strip out of my clothes and enter the waterfall shower, turning on the side jets. The hot water relaxes my muscles as my mind wanders to—who else?—Jackson. I need a plan on how to handle him—he makes me feel too much. He’s even taken over my subconscious while I sleep. Last night’s vivid dream of Jackson touching me, licking me, and claiming me rushes back, rekindling my need for relief. I close my eyes, letting the steam envelop me as I start to remember the way he played with my body, as if he’d been doing it for years.
The warm scent of my vanilla body wash relaxes me as I gently rub the soap over my curves. I lean back against the cold shower tiles and slowly move my hands to my breasts, circling the soap, imagining it’s his mouth on me. My nipples harden as I tease myself. I start to gasp and moan, fantasizing that his hands and voice are coaxing me on, telling me how much he wants me. The demand to release becomes stronger as I get lost in the sensations. My hand slides down my slick skin until it finds my clit, circling the bundle of nerves, pushing me further and further into ecstasy. My muscles clench as I envision Jackson’s fingers, his body covering mine and entering me. I insert one finger, climbing higher, higher, moaning and quivering. My release comes fast and hard as I increase the friction, finally erupting. I’m panting as bursts of light blur my vision.
Eventually, I come down from my euphoric state, finish my shower, and manage to dress myself without any major catastrophe. Hopefully the release will alleviate some of the tension in my body and make it easier to deal with Jackson. I make it to the train without a minute to spare, but at least it’s nice and quiet. I’m hoping I can hold on to this blissful feeling all day.
Once I arrive in Manhattan, a new set of emotions overcomes me. Raw strength and determination flow through me. There’s something about working in New York City. You can almost feel the power in the streets. It’s a breeding ground for success. Being here, working here, living here—it’s invigorating.
Standing in front of Jackson’s building, I see my reflection in the glass. I certainly look the part. I have on a soft cream blouse tucked into a pair of high-waisted gray suit pants. My long hair is pin straight, my dark brown eyes look soft with only a wisp of mascara, and sheer lip gloss accentuates my lips. My black heels elongate my tiny frame, making me feel tall and bold. With my posture straight, I enter the office, heading up to face Jackson and start kicking ass.
The same sweet receptionist guides me back to the conference room where my initial meeting was held. I’m a little early, so there isn’t anyone else in the room yet. I’m removing items from my bag when I hear the door click open. Jackson’s voice floats through the space.
“Yes, I’m aware of your opinion on the matter. However, I’ve made my choice.” He sounds irritated.
A second voice responds, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. It’s a female, though, and by her tone I can tell she’s trying to make him listen to her.
“I don’t care or agree with you,” he responds to whatever the comment was. Another long pause as I strain to hear her response. The door inches open a little more.
“Well, Ms. Carlson, it’s a good thing I’m the CEO.”
Shit! Piper! My blissful mood drains away.
The door opens and Jackson steps aside to let Piper come in first. She looks up and grimaces when she notices me standing here. Jackson enters. It’s as if the world stops moving. His presence would cause the energy in any room to shift, but I can’t help wondering if I feel it more intensely than everyone else. It’s—he’s—intoxicating.
He looks over at me and smiles. “Good morning, Catherine.”
“Good morning, Mr. Cole.” I smile and look at Piper. “Good morning, Piper. Nice to see you in a color other than nude.” The last thing I wish for her is a good morning. However, pleasantries are necessary, and I refuse to let her to take yet another thing from me. But I allow myself the small dig.
She snorts and rolls her eyes.
Bitch.
Jackson doesn’t notice her catty behavior. He sits at the head of the table with Piper to his left and me in the chair on his right. He’s so close. I can feel the heat radiating from him.
“Okay, let’s get started,” Jackson says.
We spend the next hour debating and discussing the best way to present the soon-to-be-released makeup line. Piper tries to undermine my opinion at every turn, but I hold my ground. Jackson sits back and interjects only when he feels the need. It seems more like a volleyball game than a meeting. After another hour, she’s finally done arguing and agrees with my vision on how to get the company on track.
“Well, ladies, I think we’re about done here. It’s been rather entertaining.” Jackson chuckles and stands, gathering his papers as he does.
Piper leans over to him, trying to keep her voice down. “Mr. Cole, I really think we should talk privately about our options.”
A flash of irritation cross his face as he gruffly replies, “Piper, again, I’m well aware of your opinion and the answer is no.” Jackson meets my eyes and grins.