Twenty-seven

Twenty-seven

JACE

I don't mean to sit and watch her as she sleeps. But the plane is silent and the lights are still dimmed inside the cabin. Her window is cracked, and rays of sunlight shine over her face. Her head is resting on my shoulder and I can smell her coconut shampoo. Desi is filling my every sense; even her hand is still entwined with mine as she snoozes, little sleepy noises escaping her lips every now and then as she shifts in her seat to try to get more comfortable.

She's trying to lean in closer to me, but the goddamn armrest is in the way. I don't know how to move it without waking her, so I just settle for the knowledge that she wants to be closer to me. At least in her dreams.

The familiar ding of the seat belt light rings, and I know we're about to start our descent. I don't want her to miss seeing Manhattan from the air, so I brush my fingertips against her wrist. Her eyelids flutter open and when that green gaze lands on me, I nearly melt. I hope my instincts earlier didn't fail me and she's reconsidering sharing her time with me.

Lifting my hand tentatively to her forehead, I push her curls away from her face. "Wake up, princess, we're about to land at JFK."

She sits up straight in her seat and bounces a couple of times. "Yeah? I'm so excited. I can't wait to see everything. What do we do first?"

I grin and reach over to make sure her seat belt is buckled. I try to ignore the pull in my abdomen at being so close to her and say, "There is a two-hour time difference between here and Denver, so it's already past one. We need to check into the hotel, get freshened up, and head over to Matt's office to meet with Edmonds. That is, if you want to. I suppose you don't have to go to the actual meeting to sign, you could just come to dinner after—"

"No," she interrupts. "I want to come to all of it. I want to be by your side every second." She slides her hand back into mine. "That's what a supportive girlfriend does, right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so."

She leans back in the seat. "Then that's settled."

After a bumpy landing that has her cutting off circulation to my fingers, we grab our luggage and hail a cab to take us to the hotel. Just like the plane tickets, I may have gone a little over the top, booking us a room at a Manhattan boutique hotel.

Desi ducks her head into the bathroom, scoping out the enormous bathtub. "I'm using that later. Don't even try to stop me," she says, winking at me as she tries out the plush bed. Like a child making snow angels, she spreads her arms and legs and slides them back and forth.

"Why would I try to stop you? That gets you naked in my bathroom. I welcome that," I say without thinking, removing my suit from its garment bag.

I'm so blurring the lines she made clear. It feels like a dick move without knowing for sure she's changed her mind.

"Desi—I'm sorry, I shouldn't—"

She gets to her feet, saunters across the room to me, and I can't help but let my eyes roam over her long legs encased in those tight jeans and the V-neck sweater that reminds me so much of the one she was wearing the day we met.

"Now that I know that for sure, it's game on, Mr. Wilder," she whispers, trailing her fingernail across my chest before disappearing into the bathroom with her toiletry bag.

Well, okay then. It looks like my anxiety can fuck off for once. I was right. She wants to try again. My phone rings, interrupting the moment—thankfully, because I was about to be in a pretty embarrassing physical situation in a second.

"This is Jace."

It's Matt, checking that we arrived and are still on to sign the contract at four. I assure him that Desi and I will be there, then hang up and fall back on the bed. I can't believe this is finally happening. The dream I've spent years working toward is on its way to becoming my reality. My stomach somersaults with a mixture of nerves and excitement—a volatile combination that makes my hands shake. My eyes flutter shut as I try to center myself.

My breathing returns to normal just as Desi steps out of the bathroom in nothing but black lace panties and a push-up bra.

"Sorry. I forgot my dress out here," she says innocently, like she isn't standing there in front of me looking like pure temptation and sex with a side of sin.

She gives me a once-over and her eyebrows knit together. "Jace, are you all right?"

"I—" I shake my head, trying to break the spell she has on me. "I was until this fucker," I say, pointing down at my crotch, where the erection that deflated when the phone rang has returned in full force.

Desi laughs while walking to the closet and taking a purple dress off the hanger. "I should apologize, but it's good to know you still like me that much."

"That's the understatement of the year," I mumble, sitting up on the edge of the bed so I have a better view to watch her while she dresses.

Desi slides the sleek dress over her head, shimmying into the clingy fabric. She moves her arms behind her to zip it, and after a couple seconds, her eyes widen and her cheeks flush. "Oh, dammit."

"What? What's wrong?"

"My dress. Can you zip it for me? I think I ate one too many Zebra Cakes—damn Glen for introducing me to those—and now it feels too tight." She's clearly embarrassed and trying to deflect using humor. I know a thing or two about that.

I stand and guide her around until her back is to me. The smooth skin along her spine calls me to run my fingers over it. I picture sliding the strap down her shoulder and letting it pool on the floor at her feet. Again, I wrangle in my hormones and zip the dress. The way the silky, dark-purple fabric clings to her curves is sinful. She has me thinking all sorts of depraved thoughts.

"You look really good in this dress," I say, my lips close to her neck, and watch as her skin rises in goosebumps.

She turns her head just enough so she can see me over her shoulder. "Thank you. You're sure it's not too tight?"

"No, it's perfect," I whisper and take a chance that might backfire on me. I press my lips to the top of her shoulder, desperate for one small taste of her skin.

Her sharp intake of breath has me holding mine, but when she turns around, there's a smile on her face. I would do whatever I can to see it over and over again.

After I put my suit on and ask for a bit of extra assistance straightening my tie, possibly just to get Desi close to me again, we're on our way to Matt's office. The city is bustling, with people rushing this way and that, and the noise is overwhelming as always. My senses are overloaded, but I'm absolutely enamored watching Desi's reactions to everything around us. The smile on her face is wide and so are her eyes, trying to take in as much as possible.

"Jace, this place is amazing. It's even better than I thought it would be. Thank you for bringing me here. We haven't even gone anywhere yet and I am about to explode from excitement," she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her curls mimicking the action against her shoulders. "Where's Matt's office?"

"We're going to have to grab a cab." I lift my hand and flag the first yellow car I see, opening the door for Desi and then climbing in next to her. The drive itself isn't that far, but the traffic is horrendous. I'm starting to get nervous that we're going to be late, and the first impression Edmonds has of me will be a terrible one. He might decide to back out, that he can't count on me, that I'm irrespon—

"Downtown Denver is a grain of sand compared to this place," Desi says in awe. "Everything is so tall! And all the people . . . it reminds me of trying to fit a new outfit into my overstuffed closet," she says out of nowhere, completely oblivious to my inner spiral.

I can't help it; I laugh at that comparison. I swear, this woman is like a natural anti-anxiety medication. She can ease my worries without even realizing it, and there's just something so pure about that.

We stop in front of a high-rise office building and I help Desi out of the taxi. With her arm looped in mine, we enter the modern lobby and the woman at the front desk directs us to the fifty-second floor.

"Fifty-two floors?" Desi hisses. "That's a lot of floors to take an elevator for. What if it—"

"It won't," I assure her as we wait for the doors to open, and I usher her in. "I promise." Wherever she was going with that train of thought, I don't want to jump on for the ride. There's no worry she can voice that I haven't thought of at least once before.

The elevator stops at several floors as we travel farther up, and people pile in. The man next to us moves closer, and I notice Desi inch even nearer to me. Not that I mind, but she was practically standing on top of me to begin with. Glancing at the guy who's crowding us, I see him raking his smarmy gaze over her, snagging on her hips and chest.

My nostrils flare and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back flush against my chest, even closer than before. My voice is a firm warning when I say, "Keep your eyes off my girl, man."

The older man straightens his tie, his hand adorned with a golden wedding band, and mumbles an apology before exiting on the next floor.

Desi's chest expands with a sharp inhale and when she exhales, I feel her whole body relax against me. I know she's all right when she looks up at me and teases, "Your girl, huh?"

I lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Saying my roommate seemed weak, and it was a moment where I had to pull some macho-man shit."

"Feel free to do it anytime—it reminded me of that night outside the club except this time I didn't have to endure the dude's hands on me, and I still got to hear you get all alpha-hole possessive."

"Alpha-hole? I don't think anyone has ever called me that."

"Too bad, because I think it's a turn-on."

I smirk. "Good to know."

The elevator signals our floor and I take Desi's hand as we scoot through the couple of people around us. If we thought the lobby was nice, Matt's office is the lap of luxury. Rich, dark furniture, amber light, and the scent of leather in the air. The young man at the front desk has perfectly coiffed hair and a slim-fitted suit. He guides us to a conference room and taps on the tall walnut door before entering.

Matt sits at the head of the conference table with an older man. They each have their hands clasped on top of folders and crystal glasses of water within reach.

Matt stands and gives Desi a once-over. It's the harmless flirtation we've both come to expect of him, and while it doesn't bother Desi in the least—in fact, I think she finds the attention amusing—I must admit I'm becoming slightly perturbed. Maybe I am an alpha-hole.

After an appreciative whistle, he says, "How do you do it? Four hours on a plane and you still manage to look like a million bucks. Why couldn't you get your man to clean up this good?"

She leans forward and kisses the air at both of his cheeks before turning back to me and tugging on the lapels of my suit jacket. "Thank you, but I think Jace not only looks phenomenal, but like he's about to sign the most promising young graphic designer in the business."

"On that, I will agree with you. Come take a seat." Matt points to the empty chair across from the other man. "This is Maxwell Cartwright, my attorney. Maxwell, may I introduce Jace Wilder and his better half, Desideria."

We shake hands.

"I apologize in advance if this all seems rushed. I just got a call about a last-minute will reading at my Connecticut office. I wasn't planning on heading out tonight, but getting this family to agree on a time has been the bane of my existence," Cartwright says.

"No problem at all," I answer with a smile. "I'm happy to get it all signed and taken care of sooner rather than later."

Mr. Cartwright double-checks the contracts, making sure it's the agreement that gives Matt a stake in my company. The attorney takes his time going through each section, ensuring we both agree on all the stipulations. He hands me the fountain pen and the contract, saying, "If there are no other questions, I just need your signature."

Emotions rise to the surface, and to my horror, tears fill my eyes. Jace, get it together. But there's no chance of that at all, not when Desi reaches over and places her hand on my thigh.

"All those countless hours working for this have paid off. I'm so proud of you," she murmurs, leaning toward me and placing a kiss on my jaw.

"Thank you, Desideria," I say, pressing my lips to her forehead. "I couldn't have done it if it weren't for you. Not like this. You carved this path for me, and I'll be forever grateful." I blink away the tears and she just smiles, shaking her head, and I know what she's telling me with that single look.

I didn't do anything, you did, but I'm not arguing with you right now.

The door opens and in walks a handsome young man with slicked back blond hair, a sprinkling of freckles across his nose, and lightly tanned skin, the Gen-Zer who is making all of this possible with his incredible talent.

Bryce Edmonds.

He is a hell of a lot more composed than I was the first time I met Matt in person, shaking his hand with a confidence I still struggle to convey.

Next to me, Desi stifles a strange noise that I recognize as her snort-laugh, and she taps my thigh. I snap my head toward her with a what the hell expression on my face.

"Sorry, frog in my throat," she says, scratching behind her left ear before taking a giant gulp of water, sliding her gaze from me to Edmonds.

I narrow my eyes as I follow her line of sight and nearly fall out of my chair when I see the telltale mark behind his left ear. A sun that is several shades lighter than his skin, that probably no one else would notice unless they were looking for it.

I'll be damned. Bryce Edmonds is an angel.

I jump to my feet, not wanting to create an awkward lull in the flow of things. I don't need to be overthinking right now. "Bryce. It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"You too," Bryce responds, shaking my hand. "Ever since our conference call I've been researching your work, and I already admire your style."

I place a hand on Desi's lower back, guiding her forward. "I'd like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Desi."

She flashes Edmonds one of her most charming smiles, and my chest warms at the sight of it. Thankfully, I don't have time to dwell on what that means because she's off on a roll. "It's so nice to meet you. I cannot tell you how often I've heard your name around the house. Jace was starting to talk about you more than his PlayStation games, and I knew then that if you didn't sign with him, he'd be devastated," she jokes, and everyone in the room laughs, including Edmonds, and I give her hip a playful pinch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, and I apologize for taking up so much of Jace's time. I'm sure you'll be glad to have his undivided attention again."

She glances up at me and winks. "Oh, don't worry, he found plenty of time for me."

Little hurricane. . . I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss her temple. "Come on, let's get this paperwork signed so we can go eat dinner. If I know my girlfriend, and I think I do, she's starving right about now."

We all take our seats and get settled in. "You aren't wrong," she says, and I tap the tabletop twice.

"You all heard that," I say, pointing a finger around the table. "Mr. Cartwright, I'm going to need you to draw up a legal document stating that Desi admitted I wasn't wrong."

Everyone laughs, and the rest of the meeting carries on just as smoothly as it began.

When the last document is signed, everyone stands, and Mr. Cartwright wishes us fun celebrating. We head out of the office and the elevator takes us to the garage floor. A large, black SUV with tinted windows and a man in a black suit waits for us. He opens the back door and the four of us crawl inside. Desi remains quiet during the ride, while the digital design nerds talk about the latest trends and new technologies that will make our jobs easier.

She's looking out the window, presumably watching the hustle and bustle of the city, when I scoot in a little closer and slide my hand into hers, intertwining our fingers. When she turns her head toward me, I run my thumb over hers, letting it drift to the inside of her wrist.

"Are you okay, Desideria?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she whispers, angling her head to mine so our lips are only inches apart.

She really is going to be the death of me.

I force myself to back up just enough that I don't end up making out with her in front of my new business partners. "Is this too much geek talk for you?"

"No. It's entertaining to hear how passionate you all are about your work. I'd go as far as saying you almost show as much enthusiasm as I do for shopping."

I chuckle. "That's a big claim."

"I know," she says, fighting to keep a straight face.

We reach the restaurant and file inside. The host greets Matt by name and leads us through the dining room to a booth in a quiet corner. Other than a few meticulously placed lights in the ceiling, the restaurant is illuminated by candlelight. Oil lamps hang from the walls, their light dancing across the crystals of the chandeliers. Our table is dressed in a black cloth with white napkins folded beside polished silverware. This is the kind of place where you need an in to get a table.

I start to sit so I can scoot in toward the wall, but Desi stops me.

"Wait, let me."

"But you're wearing—"

"I know, but I'm left-handed, remember?" She winks at me, and my entire body heats. "If I sit on the other side of you, we'll bump elbows all night."

"Fine, go ahead," I say, stepping aside.

After we all get settled, we peruse the menu as Matt orders wine for the table. Desi leans over and whispers, "Are you sure about this place? These prices . . . everything you've done for this trip has been so extravagant. I can help pay if you need me to."

"This meal is on Matt. He insisted, so order what you like. And trust me when I tell you that he can afford it. And even if he weren't paying, neither would you." I slide my hand over the top of her leg and brush my thumb over her thigh.

She shifts in her seat, and I swear, she spreads her legs just enough to allow me to slide my hand higher if I want to. And of course, I do. "All right, then," she says, her voice a little wobbly.

I behave for a few minutes, simply toying with the hem of her dress with my pinkie, sweeping against her skin every few seconds. But the more she shifts under my touch, the higher her skirt rides, and my fingers follow. I'm desperate to touch her, desperate to know if she's as wet for me as I'm hard for her.

This has been fun and all, teasing her with the little touches while at dinner in a public place, but I didn't think this all the way through . . . didn't count on the consequences for myself. That if I were to have to stand up right now, I'd be really embarrassed.

But I can't help myself. I slide my hand up another inch and glide my pinkie over the center of her black lace panties to find her soaked.

I glance at her, and she's politely listening to Matt and Edmonds talk about the newest Illustrator update. Her chin rests on her knuckles and her lips are tucked between her teeth. God, her neck and chest are so pretty when they're flushed. I'm getting to her. Good. I want her to be as starved for me as I am for her by the time we leave this table.

I rejoin the conversation like I never left, but I keep up the steady back and forth of my fingertip over her panties, and to her credit, she doesn't bat an eye. But I know Desi, and she is going to be ready to strangle me by the time we get out of here.

"Desi?" Matt asks, and I realize it's the second time he's said her name. I press my pinkie harder against her center, and she nearly drops her fork, shooting me a glare that's more of an aroused, pleading stare. I tilt my head toward Matt and her face heats as she turns to him.

"Oh, sorry, I was so zoned out. Just thinking about how good this risotto is," she says, lying through her teeth. My touch grows bolder, stroking her harder over the lace.

Matt laughs and takes a sip of wine. "Fair enough. I was just wondering what it is you do. I don't think Jace ever told us."

"Oh, I'm sort of in between gigs right now. Just taking some time to figure out what I really want. I have a position in my father's company, but I wanted to take some time to explore my options first before I take it."

"Smart. You're young and have time to make up your mind. I'm sure Jace will eventually need someone to keep him organized with all the accounts coming in. It could be beneficial to work together."

"I don't know about that." I trace the leg of her panties. "You know what they say about mixing business with pleasure. Desi would be a distraction for sure."

The distraction in question reaches for her glass of wine but finds it empty, then snatches mine and downs it. "You're a distraction yourself, mister," she manages as my finger hooks inside her underwear and grazes her wet skin.

I pull away, satisfied with how much I've frustrated her. "Far be it from me to distract you," I say. I don't know what's gotten into me, but I lift my hand to my mouth, pretending to swipe away something at the corner, slipping the wet tip of my finger between my lips.

I just tasted her at this table in front of everyone, and now I don't think my dick could be any harder. I really did not think this through.

It's probably good that when I slide my hand back onto her thigh she's crossed one leg over the other, denying me access. I pinch the skin on the side of her knee playfully, and she bats her eyelashes at me, saying, "Don't worry, I won't distract you back at the hotel if you have some work you need to get done."

Matt clears his throat with a hand over his mouth, and he and Bryce exchange an amused glance. When he moves his hand, his lips are curved into a knowing smile. "Are you two okay? Do you need a minute?"

"I'm perfectly content. Desi, do you need a minute?"

She flashes me a bright smile. "I'm one hundred percent good to go. I'm good for the rest of the night, in fact. I'll take another drink, if you don't mind," she announces, holding up her wine glass.

Oh. She's either really not amused or she's just giving me a hard time. I'm going to try to go 2–0 against my anxiety today and hope I didn't just royally screw things up.

"Far be it for me to deny the queen her wine," Matt says.

With all hands to oneself and the conversation back on track, we continue with our dinner. We talk about graphics, copyright, the dangers of AI, even movies and music, making sure to include Desi in every conversation. She especially impresses Bryce with her knowledge of Star Wars. A burst of pride fills me at that, and I wrap my arm around her and squeeze the back of her neck.

Finally, Matt waves the server over and asks for the check. While we wait, Bryce says, "I want to thank you both for bringing me on board. I can't wait to get started and really show you what I bring to the table."

I shake my head and say, "No, Bryce, I should thank you. It's an honor to have someone of your talent as the first designer on my team. I know we'll do great things together. You're a major part of why this is getting to happen for me, and I'm thankful for it."

It's true. I may have dived into work as a way to drown painful memories, but I do love it. Art makes me happy in a way little else does. That is, until a few months ago when I met someone who calmed my nerves and cared about me even when I was acting my worst. That new source of happiness is something I can't wait to drown in tonight.

Matt's driver drops us off at the hotel, and I hold tight to Desi's hand all the way through the revolving door and into the lobby, but as soon as we're out of Matt's sight, we both pull away as though our skin is burning.

It might actually be.

I try to clear my mind and will my heart to slow as we ride the elevator to our floor. I might as well be asking to fly on a spaceship and for Yoda to be real. I slide the key card into the lock and as soon as we walk over the threshold, we both start to speak.

"Jace, I—"

"Desi—"

A nervous laugh escapes her. "You go first."

"No, please," I insist, taking my suit coat off and tossing it on the couch.

She takes a deep breath and drops her purse onto the bedside table. "I'm sorry if I initiated something at dinner that I shouldn't have. I got a little out of control and that was probably really uncomfortable for you."

I freeze while loosening my tie and say in a low voice, "You've got to be kidding me right now."

"What do you mean?"

"You barely spread your legs to give me a little more room. I slid my hand all the way up to your panties and slipped my finger inside and licked said finger all at the dinner table. Now ask yourself again who was out of control," I say, taking one step toward her. "I wanted to touch you, Desideria."

Her chest is rising and falling with her rapid breaths, and all I want is to take her in my arms and kiss her until neither of us can breathe. "So much that you couldn't stop yourself, even in public? Even in front of your new co-workers?" she asks, stepping toward me and taking her hair out of the bun she'd pulled it into, letting it fall over her shoulders.

"I've never claimed that I can resist you, Desi. I just agreed to respect your wishes while you did what you needed to do." I slide my tie from around my neck and release the top two buttons of my shirt.

"Well, I'm done concentrating on that now. I've made my choices."

I pause, my fingers going still at the buttons on my wrist. My heart flutters in my chest. I'm not dense. I was adding up all the flirtations happening between us today. What they equaled was clear. Slowly lifting my gaze, I whisper, "What are you saying, Desideria?"

"I'm saying fuck resisting it, Jace. I'm tired of fighting what I want. And I want you. All I want is you."

I wait for her to take it back. For the moment when she says Wait, no, hold on, maybe we shouldn't. Maybe it will hurt too much. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jace. There's no possible way this can work out the way we want, so why are we going to hurt ourselves? It's for the best.

But it doesn't come. She's walking toward me, her gaze never leaving mine. I meet her in the middle of the room, finish removing my shirt, and let it drop to the floor. I grip the back of her neck and she cups my cheeks.

Without another moment's breath, she rises to her tiptoes and pulls my face down to hers as she repeats my words from the first time I ever kissed her.

"Fuck it."