she planned to be naked with Jax in less than an hour.
Already, she’d found the lingerie that drove him wild: push-up bra, transparent black thong, the silky black robe he’d gotten her for her birthday last year. He’d had her try it on—sans anything underneath when she opened it, and that had led to a six-hour, multi-orgasm, marathon lovemaking session, which she still sometimes daydreamed about. She hoped he remembered that when she opened the door.
What am I doing? she thought suddenly, remembering that the day after that lovemaking marathon she’d gone in for her annual OB/GYN appointment and discovered she had HPV, which could only have come from Jax. She’d done the math and realized that he’d given it to her sometime during one of their so-called monogamous phases, which meant he’d picked it up from playing around on the side. When she’d confronted him, and asked him if he’d been sleeping around, he’d said yes. When she asked him if he used any protection, he’d said sometimes.
Sometimes! That had led to a panicked call to the doctor’s office once more, where she had tests for the whole spectrum of STDs run. She’d come up negative for any more, but that had led to their second breakup.
Jenna shook her head, the vodka making her thoughts all jumbled. She’d had a lot to drink and hardly anything to eat, and she swayed unsteadily on her heels as she tried to gather her thoughts.
She couldn’t believe she’d let him back into her life and her bed. She knew how it sounded to Maddie, and everyone else in her life, but the fact was, nobody wanted her like Jax. His hands... his mouth. He knew every one of her weak spots. He exploited every one. And if that didn’t work, he made her come so hard she cried uncle.
Nobody pursued her with his single-minded determination. Even though he ran after dozens of girls the same way, that little voice said. She checked her makeup in the mirror, her image a drunk blur. She’d fixed her eyeliner the best she could, but wondered what would happen after he left. Would she cry herself to sleep? Was she really going to do this? Trade her dignity for one more night with Jax?
I should call him and tell him not to bother. I shouldn’t do this. I know where this leads...
No. One more time, she thought. Just once. One time and I’ll be done with him. For good this time.
But... was that really a good idea? She wavered, phone in hand, almost ready to text Jax and call the whole thing off. Maybe she would...
Her door buzzed then. Too late. Jax was downstairs. She could ignore him, but she knew Jax. He’d worm his way in somehow, or he’d buzz all her neighbors’ doors until one of them let him in. When it came to sex, Jax wasn’t going to be derailed. He’d take the door off the hinges if he had to. She thought of trying to explain to the police she called about her drunk texting, and decided she should be in for a penny, in for a pound. She invited him over, and part of her was still very excited about their last night.
She hit the buzzer button, and cracked open her front door. She was in a third-floor walk-up, and she could hear the front door click behind him, and the heavy footsteps on the carpeted stairs. Jenna propped herself in her doorway, her landing not visible to any of her neighbors. She had her silky black robe open, her lingerie and assets on display—push-up bra working overtime to make her a Victoria’s Secret model look-alike. She slouched against the door frame, hoping she looked seductive and not drunk, as she saw a glimpse of dark hair and a leather jacket. Jax didn’t wear leather... and wait one minute, that wasn’t Jax at all.
Her boss, Jack Kearney, climbed up the last flight, his broad shoulders moving his fit body as she froze in absolute shock for about two full seconds, during which, his ice-blue eyes swept over her in approval. He looked a little like a man on Christmas morning, amazed at the good fortune he’d found under his tree.
Jenna managed to gain control of her body once more, and she whipped her robe closed, tying the sash and backing into her apartment.
“Jack! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, even as she realized the silk of her robe clung to her curves, and was too short to cover much of anything, her hem hanging well above her knee. Her eyes darted down the stairwell, as if Jax might be there right behind Jack, trying to figure out what on earth had brought her boss to her apartment at midnight.
“You told me to come,” Jack said, holding up his phone.
The vodka swirled around Jenna’s brain, making her two steps too slow. “What?”
He read the messages aloud. “We need 2 talk. I know you want me. You should want me. I’m the best you’ll ever have. “
“No... Oh, my God.” Jenna stumbled back into her apartment, grabbing her phone. It couldn’t be true. She’d texted Jax. She knew she had...and yet, as she scrambled to pick up her phone she saw she hadn’t. Jack sat neatly at the top of her message list. Jack, not Jax. She’d been off by one letter. She’d probably typed Jac, and it had automatically pulled up Jack, but she’d been too drunk to notice. Oh, God! Her boss... her... really devilishly good-looking boss. She didn’t know if it was the vodka talking, but man, were his eyes blue. Shockingly blue. His nearly jet-black hair ran riot over his head in just the perfect messy heap. He grinned sheepishly, as the mix-up dawned on him.
“You didn’t mean to text me, I take it?” He ran a hand through his thick black hair and sighed, looking strangely despondent. “I knew it was too good to be true.” He grinned ruefully at her, looking, well, damn good. He was handsome, she knew he was, but before now she’d not let herself see just how hot.
God, Jenna. Like a bitch in heat! Are you just going to jump on every man you see? Maybe... she thought. Just maybe. And distantly... I really shouldn’t ever drink vodka.
Jack glanced down at his shoes, looking embarrassed. She wondered why. Women threw themselves on Jack all the time. It’s not like the man was hard up for willing booty calls. She’d heard women at work talking about him in the kitchen by the coffee machine and what they’d love to do with him. “Right, well, then, I... Uh... This is for you.” He handed her a bottle of red, an expensive bottle by the look of it. What kind of man brought expensive wine to a drunken hookup?
A nice one, Maddie would’ve said if she were here.
“Well... uh... I’ll be on me way, then,” he grumbled in his sexy Irish brogue. Even Jenna had taken note of the accent. Everyone in the office had. “No need to call the peelers.”
“Peelers?”
“Police,” he explained. He headed to the door, pausing there. “By the by, you look feckin’ amazing. Whomever you meant to call is a lucky feckin’ lad.”
Something in his voice, the yearning in it, made Jenna pause. Did Jack have a thing for her?
“Jack, wait.”
He paused. “Are you going to call HR? Pam will be asleep and meaner than she usually is.”
Jenna laughed. Pam in HR was a hard-ass. She’d hate being called at home, but she’d love reprimanding both of them. She lived to chastise rule-breakers. “Have a drink. She can’t have us fired for having a drink.”
“She can if you wear that.” Jack looked down at Jenna’s robe, which had gaped open, revealing cleavage. She giggled, and stumbled a little, and Jack steadied her on her feet. His hands were strong and warm and Jenna liked the feel of them on her shoulders. He smelled like leather and cinnamon. He smelled good.
She glanced up and saw a worried look in his stark blue eyes.
“You okay?”
“I’m... I’m a mess,” she admitted, and hiccupped. The vodka hadn’t weakened its grip on her at all, which was probably a good thing, because if she’d been sober, she would’ve died on