“Done,” I said.
“Pick you up at seven.”
“See you then.”
My smile lingered for a long time, and that evening, we had a candlelit meal in a restaurant that was too fancy for me to ever get a table without the Branson name on the reservation. We went back to his place and made love, and I didn’t think about my worries for the future once.
This pattern replicated itself the next day, and the next, and the next. We attended luncheons and dinners and galas and balls. Jared took me out, just the two of us, and made me feel like this romance between us was real. He took me to the ballet and fingered me to orgasm in a private box, whispering praise in my ear while I worked to stifle my gasps. He spread me out on his dining room table and ate me like I was his favorite dessert. He smiled every time I entered his office and curled his arms around me every morning we woke up in the same bed.
I was living a fantasy. A dream. There was no way this was real, with the fancy events and the fabulous clothes and the decadent food, but it was. And the way his eyes darkened was real. The way his hands clasped and claimed me-that was real. The way he nuzzled me and touched me at every opportunity. All of it made me forget about that flimsy paper bridge over the gulf of our differing circumstances.
Jared’s POV
Iris frowned at her phone screen as she waited for me on the couch in my office. I took my glasses off and pushed away from my desk and asked, “Is something wrong?”
She glanced up, brows arched. “Oh! No. Well, yes. It’s my friend. She’s going through a breakup, and I’m worried about her.”
I nodded. My own friend Arlo was torn up about his former nanny, a willowy blonde with whom he’d become entangled. As I watched Iris stand and turn to me, her hands smoothing down her clothes to straighten them, I felt a pang of sympathy. If Iris walked away from me, I’d be a wreck too.
I crossed the space between us and indulged my urge to wrap Iris in my arms. She sank into me, resting her head against my shoulder with a sigh.
“Is your friend okay?”
She shrugged. “She’s pregnant, and the guy is a jerk.” She pulled away, eyes narrowing on me. “He was her boss.”
I took her chin in a gentle hold, brushing my lips against hers. “Are you worried about us?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted.
“Why? I’m taking you to my family Thanksgiving, after all.”
She gave me a flat look, and it made me want to push her down to the couch and spread those thighs apart so I could watch her expression transform to something softer. “That’s my job, Jared.”
“Ouch.”
She rolled her eyes and grinned at me. “I’m sure your ego will recover.”
My nose brushed the side of hers as I said, “Maybe you should make it up to me.” I let my hand slip down to squeeze the curve of her ass and was rewarded with the slight catch in Iris’s breath.
“Do you ever worry about what happens to us after?”
“After what?”
She pulled away, her hands on my shoulders as she frowned at me. “We can’t go on like this forever, Jared. You must know that.”
My throat was tight when I said, “I try not to think too far ahead.”
She pursed her lips, and I nipped at them to make them soften. I couldn’t stop touching her. If she was in the same room as me, I wanted my arms around her. If there was a frown on her forehead, I wanted to kiss it away. If she gave me any kind of sass, I fought the urge to fuck her until she smiled for me.
I pulled her onto the couch on top of me so she straddled me, her skirt falling around us in a flutter of fabric. She sat back on my thighs and plucked at a stray thread on my collar, a deep fold between her brows. I touched the spot, and she smoothed it.
“When I’m with you, I can’t think straight,” she admitted, lifting her gaze to meet mine.
I huffed, my hands on her hips. “I know the feeling.”
That made her lips kick, and a tightness in my chest eased.
“What do you want, Iris? Do you”-I cleared my throat-“want to stop…”
“Having sex with you?” She arched a brow.
I jerked my chin down in a rough movement.
“No,” she admitted, “and that’s the problem.”
My hands slid up her thighs, relishing the warmth of her skin. She closed her eyes briefly, and I rumbled in satisfaction. “Good,” I answered. “Because neither do I. And I don’t think it’s a problem.”
“What are we, Jared?” Iris asked, eyes wide. “What is this between us?”
“You need a label?” My hands found the line of her panties where they cut into her hips. I dipped my thumbs under the elastic, stroking softly. “What’s that going to change, Iris?”
Her lids fluttered at my touch. “It would make this make sense,” she whispered. “And then maybe I wouldn’t be so scared.”
“Scared of me?” My voice was rough. I was struggling to understand what she needed, and I didn’t like the pinch in my chest at the thought that she wanted to end this. But she was on top of me, and it didn’t feel like she wanted to pull away. Did she want to be my girlfriend? She basically was. Did she want to stop working for my company? Quit?
That made the pinch in my chest turn painful. She was here because she worked for me, but if she wanted to walk away…
How would I be sure she would stay by my side? How could I ever be sure she wouldn’t abandon me entirely? She was employed by my company, and that meant she’d be here. That was all that mattered. That was what I wanted-what I was sure she wanted too.
“I’m not scared of you,” she said softly, brushing her lips over mine. “I’m scared of my feelings for you. Scared that you’ll wake up and realize you don’t want me, and you’ll just shake me off like a stray piece of lint.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.