“So why can’t you date her?” Matt stared and shrugged.
He’d been my best friend since college. We were teammates and both projected to go in the first round of the draft. I blew out my elbow. Tommy John surgery didn’t fix it. I hit the books and Matt continued to hit home runs.
In some way it was like fate. Sports analysts said he was insane for allowing me to represent him. The deal I got for him was insane, and I started my agency with the commission from it.
“You know why.” I returned his stare and cocked an eyebrow.
“Ohh, right. Shit that had nothing to do with you. Got it.”
Matt was sharp, and the best friend a guy could ask for.
“Shit!” I barked at the screen.
His player on my eighty-inch television intercepted my pass. Madden on Xbox 360 was our thing, when we weren’t working out or at the ballfield. He didn’t know what he was talking about in this case though. Matt knew everything that happened when I was younger, long before I’d met him. But he didn’t see what it did to my family. He didn’t live it like I had.
“Just forget it.”
“So what happened with you and her anyway? You’ve been weird as hell the last day or two.” He took a swig from his Bud Light bottle and set the controller down. “You haven’t been right for weeks, come to think of it.”
It wasn’t a discussion I really wanted to have at the moment. I never should have hired Jenny Jackson. I knew better. God, the way she stood up to me—defied me. I’d never been so fucking hard in my life. I barely refrained from rubbing one out in my office, and I damn sure left at five sharp for the first time in history to go home and take care of the situation.
“It’s just a crush. It’ll pass.” It was a lie and I knew he’d see right through it.
“Whatever you say, buddy. Just ask her on a fucking date. It’s really not that hard to do.” He chuckled.
“Sure.” I flipped the input channel on the television so that SportsCenter was on. Matt’s face was huge on the screen. His contract was up for renegotiation at the end of the season and it was all any of the talking heads were babbling about. It’s also one of the reasons I ripped Jill a new asshole. I couldn’t be bothered to deal with simple tasks when I needed to focus on my best friend’s financial well-being. “I bet it’s hard to get a date when your pretty face is playing on every television in the universe.”
Matt grinned. “Regardless, if I liked a girl, I’d ask her out. That’s just what you do.” He waved his arm out in front of him like he was stating the obvious.
“It’s just a bad idea in principle. Don’t shit where you eat.” I needed to change the subject or distract him somehow. It was nearly impossible when he was fixated on something. “Rothstone’s contract is almost up. Why don’t you put in a good word for me? His agent is a prick and not going to get near the value I would.”
“No work stuff today, bro. You know the rules.” He gave me a pretend-angry side eye as he took another big swig of beer.
I held up my hands in defense. “Hey, you brought up work. Not me.”
“I brought up the girl you’re all whipped over. Not work.” He chuckled.
I popped him on the elbow and beer flew up his nose and splattered on his forehead. He sat there, staring down at his beer bottle, while I tried not to let the laughter erupt from my face. It was difficult, seeing as how his cheeks were puffed out like a hamster’s.
His face turned pink and he tried to fight back his own laugh. “You’re gonna pay for that. You pitchers are always pushing the limits of fuckery. But I’m bigger than you.”
He lunged and I shot over my coffee table and across the living room as he barreled after me. “I’m faster, fat boy!” I hollered over my shoulder and bolted around the corner of the staircase, grabbing a pillar with my left arm to make the turn.
He’d gone the other way and I slammed into him. Before I knew it his large biceps was wrapped around my head and his knuckle was running back and forth across my scalp.
“Say ‘uncle,’ bitch!”
I shook my head. A hundred million dollars of net worth combined between the two of us, and we were acting like ten-year-old boys in a million-dollar house. He was always professional in the office, but get us alone where people weren’t watching, and this was the norm. I wished Jenny could see this side of me. “Fine, uncle.”
There was no way I was escaping his grip, so I let him have his little victory. He ran up my stairs like Rocky and then came back down. “All right, it’s been fun dicking off, but I need to go run a few errands. Next week?”
“Always, man.”
We bumped fists and he walked toward the door. “Ask her out, pussy,” he called over his shoulder without turning around.
I shook my head as he closed the door behind him.
I’d read the contract on my coffee table at least thirty-two times and couldn’t process one word of it. Jenny. Jenny. Always fucking Jenny Jackson. She was all I thought about. I pulled out my phone and stared at her name and our previous messages no less than thirty-two times—read and dissected each one of them with the same care the contracts on my table should’ve been given.
How does she do this to me?
The angel and devil had a hell of a back and forth in my brain.
Angel Ethan: Apologize to her.
Devil Ethan: Fuck that, it shows weakness.
Angel Ethan: You could have something with her and have your company. Maybe the company would be even better.
Devil Ethan: You’ve seen what can happen with your own two eyes. Don’t risk it. There are plenty of women to fuck who don’t work for you.
Angel Ethan: Yeah, but you don’t have feelings for any of them. None of them are Jenny. Apologize.
Devil Ethan: Don’t be a bitch. Don’t shit where you eat. If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.
Fuck!
What I should’ve done was lock my phone in the safe and gone to work. Instead, I pulled out my phone again.
Devil Ethan: Pussy-whipped motherfucker.
I shrugged and pulled up the message thread.
Me: I’m sorry.
I hadn’t expected her to return my text. I should’ve called her or said it in person. When she was up against the wall, pinned and under my control, I was alive. Every time she challenged me I wanted nothing more than to claim her—own her with my cock. Fuck my name from her lips.
But there was something more there. I loved that she could give it back just as hard as I dished it out. Boring women were just that—boring. Could Jenny Jackson be interesting for the rest of our lives? I didn’t think I would’ve sent an apology text if I didn’t believe it. Because I never apologized to anyone. Ever.
The three dots started to jump and my heart followed suit. A lump formed in my throat that I had to gulp down. This was why I hadn’t called. I knew myself too well.
Jenny: It’s not me you owe an apology to.
Me: I already apologized to Jill.
Jenny: Then why are you texting me?
I tapped my chin. Could I let her in? It was easy to say it in my mind, but difficult to put into practice, like most things. Theory didn’t match reality for a reason. It’s why most couples failed. Anyone could go listen to a therapist talk about communication and things people should do. But could they actually do it?
Fuck it.
Me: Because I need to know you don’t hate me.
Silence.
More silence.
I checked the time stamp and it’d been two minutes of eternity since I’d made myself vulnerable to a woman for the first time in history.
My hands were sweaty. I said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing. It was inappropriate. I was going to lose it all. I was going to reduce my company to rubble over a woman.
Jenny: I don’t hate anyone.
Exhale.
Breathing.
Relief.
Confusion.
Why’d it take her so long to come up with that response? The Queen of Snark could’ve had a hundred insults ready at her fingertips in a matter of seconds. Was it because she had feelings for me too? The tells were all there. I could have been in jail if she’d wanted. You couldn’t just grind your dick against an employee in a dark conference room. It wasn’t exactly legal. My brain still doubted what my heart knew.
I wanted to ask her if she had feelings for me. I wanted to hear it from her. It was eating me alive inside. But I couldn’t push things too fast and she still needed to respect me as her boss. Outbursts were what I did. It was my thing. I couldn’t change overnight, even though she made me want to. How could I risk my business just to make her happy? Was I capable of that?
Smooth it over and buy yourself time to think. Don’t make decisions based on emotion.
Me: I want you to work for me. I want us to get along.
Jenny: You destroyed her. She’s a person with feelings.
Fuck, this was going to be harder than I thought.
Me: I apologized to her.
Jenny: Words are cheap. Someone who values things for a living should know this.
How was she so sexy and smart? It was a lethal combination.
Me: Everyone knows what they sign up for here. It’s why they’re paid so well.
Jenny: I don’t want to rehash this. It’s your business. Do what you want. But I won’t sit by and watch it happen.
Goddamn it. Distract her. You’re losing this battle.
Me: I wouldn’t mind rehashing you against the wall.
I could practically see her blushing and staring at her phone. The tides were turning in my favor.
Jenny: I’m sure you wouldn’t.
So. Fucking. Feisty.
My cock surged in my gym shorts. I could jerk off to her words on a screen and come in all of five seconds. I was sure of it.
Me: The sounds you made in my ear made me think you wouldn’t either.
Take that shit, Jenny Jackson. Don’t try and act like I didn’t notice.
Jenny: I should really talk to HR about that on Monday. :)
I might’ve been nervous if there wasn’t a smiley on the end of her text. Fuck that smiley and what it did to me. How the hell had I put myself in this situation? A situation where a colon and a closing parentheses could make me feel like I was floating, invincible to reality.
Me: How is your father?
I could never allow myself to be happy. She was finally opening up and I did what I always did before I could stop my fingers—brought the conversation back to reality. Maybe in her good mood she would open up to me more. Let me know more about her.
Jenny: Medical bills are piling up. It’s why I took the job. I’m sure you knew there was a reason. You’re good at reading people. I wanted to tell you to fuck off. I almost did.
I knew it!
I wasn’t rejoicing in her misfortunes, just in the fact I’d pegged her correctly from the beginning. There was a reason she was warring with herself over accepting the position. I’d sensed it in my bones. It was nice to know my intuition hadn’t disappeared into my dick along with logic and reason. She’d told me her dad was sick, but it was the medical bills that were the issue.
Before I could type back, my phone vibrated with another message.
Jenny: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Thanks for asking but it’s nothing you should be concerned about.
Me: It’s okay. I like when you tell me things.
Jenny: Really? Coming from the guy who basically tells everyone to check their personal lives at the door every day?
She should’ve been a fucking attorney.
Me: We’re not at work.
The contracts on the table glared back at me. I shrugged. She wasn’t at work.
Jenny: You’re always working. Hearing about people’s personal lives isn’t your style.
She was right. We both knew it. Fuck her for always being right. It killed me and I came alive at the same time. Goddamn this woman was perfect.
Me: How about we start over on Monday? You try not to harangue me in front of employees. I’ll try to take people in private to tear them apart. Maybe we can make this work. Deal?
After twenty seconds passed, I realized I was holding my breath waiting for a response.
Jenny: Deal.
Me: So what are you wearing?
Jenny: See you Monday. :)
Fucking smiley!
I tossed my phone to the other end of the couch and looked at the contracts. When I bent over to get a better peek my still-hard cock jabbed into my stomach, and I groaned. I leaned back and glanced down at it tenting my shorts. All I saw was Jenny’s eyes as she took me deep into her throat.
Fuck!
How could I think about anything else but her? I did what any horny motherfucker would do. I leaned back, fisted my cock, and imagined her eyes on me as I shoved my dick into her mouth.
After two strokes and her staring up at me from her knees, my balls had already tightened. Shutting her up with a mouthful of my dick got me just as worked up as when she’d fired insults in my direction. I stared down at where her face should be, imagining my hands fisting her hair while she took me into the back of her throat.
A load crept up my shaft and I tried to hold it back with everything I had for just an extra second of imagining Jenny Jackson sucking me off and staring up at my face as I came in her mouth. I groaned and let loose, giving in to the intense pressure.
Five seconds later I had a sticky goddamn mess all over my stomach.