Chapter Twenty-Three

Jake is the only reason I'll survivethese intense two weeks of work. I'm not sure how I would get through them without his uncanny ability to help me relax and blow off some steam.

The list is kind of on hold, and I'm okay with that. Instead of putting any pressure on ourselves to tick more items, we do whatever we feel like doing in the moment, which is still pretty spectacular every single time. And because he knows just how busy I am, he goes out of his way to make it work.

On Tuesday, he comes by my place for a couple of hours of naked cardio, then leaves after a goodbye kiss to let me finish what I'm working on. On Thursday, when I'm stressed and considering ripping my hair out in frustration, I send him a text, which makes him come all the way here again and fuck me silly. On Friday evening, I decide I've missed enough after-work drinks with the team, so I force myself to head there rather than meet with Jake at The Devil's Court. As soon as it's over though, I text him to see if he's still up.

Turns out he is, so he hops on his bike. By the time I get home, he's at the foot of my building, eagerly waiting. Really, getting to see him is what makes me get through all this. I hang on, knowing I'll keep getting more of him.

Now, it's Saturday morning, more than halfway through my fortnight of hell. We're in the kitchen to get ourselves some much-needed sustenance, still reeking of sex and looking the part. The sleep last night was scarce, the sex was plentiful, and I have no regrets. I needed that after the long week I had.

"Do you want bacon?" I ask him, looking into my fridge.

"Sure. Do you have more bread? There's only two slices left in this one."

"Let me check the pantry."

I give him the bacon before I make my way to fetch the bread.

It's disappointing that he has to leave right after breakfast, but it's better this way. I have to work, and he has important things to handle. Today, they're welcoming their new guest artist, a woman who comes all the way from South Africa to stay at The Parlour for three weeks to tattoo New Yorkers. According to Jake, Kaya is so famous in the business that half of her time here is already booked, and people are coming from across the country to get inked by her. So, Jake has to pick her up from the airport at eleven and then settle her in the apartment unit he keeps available for guest artists.

When I return from the pantry with more bread, Jake still looks like the only thing I want to eat this morning, wearing nothing but black underwear. By now, he has to know how mad that drives me, and he's doing it on purpose. Just so he can get a taste of his own medicine, I'm wearing only his T-shirt, and I keep finding excuses to stretch up or bend over.

I'm not necessarily saying he'll be late to the airport, but I claim no responsibility if he is. He started it with the underwear thing.

When he asks for the maple syrup, I hold back my grin and position myself in a way that puts my ass right in his field of view. Bending at the hips, I reach the lowest drawer and pull it open. I pretend to look for the syrup, knowing it's not here at all. I'm sure he can see every intimate detail of me from where he stands.

When he lets out a grunt, I bite my lower lip. "Genevieve, I will fuck you up," he threatens.

Mustering my best innocent voice, I ask, "Why?"

"I can't be fucking late."

"Then don't be late."

I close the drawer and fetch the maple syrup, which was in plain sight on the counter the entire time. "You look a little tense, wombat," I tease, handing him the bottle. The wombat joke is still going strong, and I think that every time I use it, it becomes a little more serious. I'm still grinning when I suggest, "Maybe you should try meditation."

"Next time you flash me your cunt, you're getting a spanking. That'll relax me."

"And you think that's a threat?" I chortle.

"A spanking is nothing like the occasional slap on the bum, red. A proper one will remind you how much of a bad girl you've been every time you sit down for the next two days."

He walked right into that one, so I don't have any remorse when I grab his hand and slip it between my legs under his T-shirt I'm wearing. Like he can't help himself, he cups my intimacy. "I already will," I rasp, stretching up to take his lips.

His groan lands on my tongue, and he devours me with ravenous intensity. If the kiss he gives me is any indication, it'll be fast and hard. He'll leave me with weak legs and a pulse beating in my core, and I'll love every brief minute of it.

Two of his thick and tattooed fingers are deeply shoved into me, fucking me, preparing me for his dick, when we both hear the latch of the main door being undone.

What the—

We separate just as I hear the door opening. I scramble to readjust myself, but there isn't much to set right. I'm naked under the shirt, and Jake's in his damn underwear. Footsteps come in, and I try to think past the anxiety. Only three people have the key to my apartment. The concierge, Hana, and—

"Gen?" a masculine voice asks from the entrance.

Edward.

I give Jake a panicked look. This can go wrong in a hundred different ways. Before I can say anything, Eddie comes into view, scanning the room for me. When they land on their goal, his eyes go huge with shock. Understandably, he didn't expect to find me half-naked in my kitchen with an even more naked man who's covered in tattoos and twice my weight in hard-earned muscles.

All three of us say nothing for a few seconds, staring in utter silence. This has got to be the most awkward thing I've ever been through. And I've been through a lot.

Jake's the first one to do something, clearing his throat and leaning back on the counter behind him, crossing his powerful arms over his broad chest. When I look up at him, I swear he's holding back a proud little smirk. Clearly, he doesn't mind Eddie finding us like this.

When I turn to my ex again, none of the shock has dissipated from his face. It's as though he's frozen. "Edward, wha-what are you doing here?" I stammer.

"I need my tuxedo."

"So you just let yourself in?"

"I sent you texts. Like, twenty. And I tried to call." His attention latches back to Jake, who's still silently observing the scene as it unfolds. "You're that Jack guy from the gallery."

It's a statement, not a question. But the half-naked man beside me still feels compelled to say something. "Jake. Glad to see you remembered me this time, Edward the Third," he taunts.

"Are you two…"

Jake barely holds back a snort. "Does it look like I'm her personal chef, mate?"

The confusion on Eddie's features is slowly turning into anger and frustration. "Gen, is that the man from the other day? The one who drove you to work on his bike?"

Before I can answer, Jake replies, "You're smarter than I reckoned. I am that bloke, yes."

Understandably, Jake's patronizing tone doesn't sit well with Eddie, who now looks enraged. But my ex is good at containing strong emotions, so he takes a couple of breaths and forces himself to look away.

"I'll go get my tux and leave," he dryly says.

I consider holding him back, but I can't think of a good reason why. The sooner he leaves, the better. So I watch, disoriented, while he heads to the bedroom we shared for four years.

With evident amusement, Jake says, "Oh, he's going to love what we did to your bed."

Shoot! That would have been a good reason to hold Eddie back.

I haven't opened the window yet, so the room will have the stench of sex still etched into the walls. In the middle of it, the bedding is covered in cum and sweat, and I'm fairly sure there's a substantial stain of my arousal still clearly visible on the fitted sheet, right where Jake pinned me while we had sex upon waking up earlier.

There's no way Eddie will miss any of it as he makes his way to the walk-in closet.

My heart's in my throat while we wait for him to return. The anxiety isn't because I'm still hoping something might be fixable between us, but because I care about him in some capacity. He doesn't deserve to see the remnants of my night with Jake. We dated for five years, and if the roles were reversed, I'd feel nauseated and insulted.

When I finally hear his footsteps return, my whole body tenses, my hands balled into tight fists at my sides. If only I'd taken a moment to check my phone this morning or to switch off the Do Not Disturb setting. When he appears again, Eddie is fuming, his jaw tightly clenched, and his face scrunched into a furious scowl. His tuxedo is in its protective bag, thrown over his arm. Instinctively, I make my way around the kitchen island and walk up to him.

"Eddie, I'm so sorry—"

"Don't," he stops me. "I don't even want to hear it."

I reach out to him, trying to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Please, I didn't want you to see thi—"

He grabs my wrist firmly, letting his anger get the best of him. "I said I don't want to hear it!" he utters.

"Let go of her," Jake commands, now standing right beside me. When Eddie doesn't comply, Jake's voice becomes even more threatening. "Let go, or I will break your fucking hand, you daft cunt."

That works, and Eddie releases me with a huff. I pass soothing fingers around my wrist, surprised by how hard he squeezed.

"I don't get it, Genevieve. We spent five years together, five, and I got nothing, barely scraps. Then you meet this guy—what, two weeks ago at the gallery? And you turn into a shameless whore? What the fuck is wrong with—"

Before the words can even hurt, Eddie is shoved away from me and slammed into the wall behind him, held against it by an enraged Jake. The tuxedo drops to the ground as my ex reaches for the tattooed forearm pressed against his throat. I swiftly join them, laying a hand on Jake's flexed biceps to make him release Edward.

I've never seen him like this, with murder in his eyes. The gentle wombat I know is long gone, replaced by a man who looks like he could kill.

"Did you think I'd let you call her that and let it slide?" Jake snarls. "Is that what you would have done? Like a dickless cunt who lets daddy handle all his problems?"

Eddie tries to talk, but nothing comes out except an indiscernible gurgle. He's barely touching the ground, standing on the tips of his shoes. "Did you ever stop and wonder if maybe you don't know how to fuck?" Jake growls. "That she only gave you scraps because you had nothing to offer in return?"

Now, Edward's face is turning an alarming shade of red, so I gently pull on Jake's arm, using a soothing voice when I say, "Let him go, Jake. Please, stop."

But nothing seems to reach past the pure rage he's experiencing.

"Do you want to hear a little secret, nepo boy?" he asks with a sadistic grin. "We started fucking before the gallery's opening. We'd already done it a few times like wild fucking animals—not that you'd know what that's like. And while you were busy networking with the guests like the trust fund little bitch you are, I was making her come all over my tongue and fingers in the restroom. Again, not that you'd know what that's like."

"Jacob!" I protest. Now he's going too far. While I understand why he'd want to protect me, it's clear that he's only trying to hurt Edward. Whatever is in my tone compels him to look at me. "Let go of him. Now!"

He glares at Eddie again, and after one last harsh shove, he releases him. Edward slumps down against the wall, barely managing to stay upright. A fit of coughs shakes him, his hand reaching up to massage his throat.

Jake displays no pity as he looks down at my ex. "Give her back the key that you have," he demands. "And then get the fuck out."

Edward's hands tremble as he pats himself to find his key chain. When he does, he takes it out of his pocket and fumbles to unhook my key. He lets it fall on the tiled floor and then bends to pick up his tux. I'm still in shock when he scurries out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

The silence that follows is deafening, and I don't know if we'll ever manage to break it. What the hell just happened? Everything was flipped upside down in five minutes, and instead of getting my way with Jake in the kitchen, I have to deal with a monumental crisis. And my lower half is still bare.

Flustered and confused, I look up at Jake, who's fuming. "Why were you protecting him?" he asks.

"What?"

"After what he said to you, why were you protecting him?"

"I wasn't protecting him, I was protecting you!"

"Really? It didn't look like it."

I huff, unimpressed by his lack of trust in me. "People like us sue, Jacob. We don't care about some honor to uphold. When we get assaulted, we hire the best lawyers in town to sue. So, excuse me for not letting you give Eddie the means to do that to you."

His lips pinch in a thin line, jaw ticking as he understands I not only mean it, but I'm also right. "Also," I continue, "Eddie and I work together, we have friends in common, our families frequent the same circles… I don't need him to know those sorts of intimate details about me—especially not when you've just humiliated him, which might make him vindictive. You had no right to disclose the information you did."

"And he had no right to call you that."

Something in his tone, in how hurt he sounds about Eddie calling me a whore, makes my chest ache. He's right, Eddie shouldn't have said that. But it doesn't mean slamming him against my wall was the proper course of action.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," Jake says. "I just—I saw red, and I wanted to make him swallow his fucking tongue for saying it."

Again, the vulnerability I discern in him is touching, and I don't know what to make of my torn feelings. Part of me appreciates that he stood up for me like this, but another part hates how he went about it.

Something tells me that Jake wouldn't have reacted so harshly had Eddie only insulted him. Jake has thick skin, and his nonchalant and cocky attitude allows him to brush off a lot more than most. But hearing the insults veered toward me is apparently another thing.

I don't even know what to say anymore, so I walk the space that separates us and wrap my arms around him, pressing my front on his bare torso. After a second of uncertainty, his arms also come around me, and he holds me in a hesitant embrace.

"Thank you for protecting my honor," I whisper, my temple and cheek plastered on his shoulder. "But please, never do that again."

"I don't think he'll give me the opportunity to."

"Yeah, that's unlikely."

I look up, still not quite over everything that just happened. His green eyes meet mine, and his hand comes to my face. With a delicate thumb, he grazes the length of my cheekbone. "You know you're not what he said, right?"

I nod, mesmerized by the softness of his irises and the fondness clearly visible in them.

"Just because a woman enjoys sex doesn't mean she deserves to be shamed for it. No matter how many partners she has, her history, her kinks, her pace, her needs… You understand that, right?"

My head bobs up and down again. I'm touched that he's making sure I'm okay after Edward's hurtful insult.

"Good, because you're fucking perfect, red, and you don't deserve to have any doubt about the kind of person you are."

I cup his cheek, contending with a swarm of feelings too strong to register. "You're the one who's perfect, wombat."

I'm rising to my toes to kiss him when he mumbles, "Hardly."

Because it's too late to counter him with words, I show him just how much I mean it with my actions. My display of affection isn't supposed to turn into anything more, but we get lost in the moment. Adrenaline ran high, and we're both looking for a way to let it out. Maybe that's why my heart seems to have doubled in size. It feels like it might explode at any moment, overwhelmed with emotions and feelings.

I don't protest when Jake lifts me by the back of my legs, settling my bare center right onto his boxer-clad crotch.

"Where do you want me?" he asks into our kiss.

"The bedroom. I think we can make it all even filthier—in case he comes back because he forgot a bowtie or something."

His chuckle echoes everywhere within me, and I beam in return. "I love the way you think, Miss Kensington."

"Thank you. I'm very smart. I even went to Harvard."

"You did?" he sarcastically asks. "I had no idea. You never mention it."

"Dick," I mumble. He laughs again, and this time, I'm with him.

When he sets out to bring me to the bedroom, I'm reminded he had plans that didn't involve sex this morning. "Wait, what about the airport?"

"I'll text Eli to pick up Kaya. This is more important."

While he carries me back to the bedroom, I kiss every inch of his face, entranced by all of him. I'm still not sure that I like the way he handled Edward, but in my heart, I can't blame him for it.

I'd have done the same thing for him.