“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Didn’t you?”
“This is your project. Your concept. Your baby. Of course I don’t want you to toss it away for me. I’m the best—I’m not going to argue that point—but no matter who you end up with, it will still be an excellent resort, and you are the reason why.” He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “I would never ask you to walk away from something you love, and you shouldn’t ever do that. Not without a reason that makes sense. And misplaced loyalty isn’t a good reason.”
“My loyalty isn’t misplaced,” I say.
“No, you’re right. But the urge to quit because of me is.”
I think about it. “Maybe,” I say. I’m honestly not sure. But I do know that I am relieved that he isn’t angry that I stayed. And, more than that, that he doesn’t even want me to go.
“So who will you pick to fill my very large shoes?”
“Damien wants Glau back on the project. Did I tell you he was less than enthusiastic about Tibet?”
“Good god.”
“I know.” I drag my fingers through my hair. “Even if you’re gone—which sucks—but even if you are, surely I can find someone better than him. Someone with more enthusiasm, at least. I mean, Glau actually walked off. I don’t want him back.”
“Say so. It’s your project, after all.”
I consider that. And he’s right. “It is my project,” I say firmly. “And if Damien can veto you, then I can veto Glau.”
Jackson grins at me. “That’s my girl. Can you hold on to that attitude in the face of my brother?”
I make a face. “I guess we’ll see.”
“Well, good for you.” He puts his hand over mine. “Apparently I’m just going to sit back and say fuck it.” He pushes away from the table and rises from his stool. “Dammit, that’s just not me. I don’t take shit lying down. I never have.”
“Then why now?”
“Because apparently I’m one of Pavlov’s fucking dogs.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about and say so.
“All my life, moving to the whim of Damien. He said jump, and my family asked how high.” He makes a derisive noise in his throat. “Bastard has his finger on the control button and he is constantly pressing.”
“So take it back. Take control back from him. You’re good at that.”
He’s been facing opposite me, but now he turns, and I can see that he’s considering something. “You’re right,” he says as his expression clears and a wide grin spreads across his face. “I absolutely am.”
He pulls me to a kiss. “Come on. It’s late, and you have work tomorrow.”
“I do,” I say. I gently trace my finger over his fading bruises. He’s shirtless, wearing only sweatpants that are loosely tied at his waist. “How are they?”
“Better.”
I press my palm against the largest one and feel his muscles quiver under my touch. I bite back a satisfied smile, delighted to see such tangible evidence that he desires me as much as I do him. “I hope so. They still look painful.”
“Better now with you,” he amends.
I slowly slide down to my knees, my fingers plucking at the drawstring of his sweats as I descend.
“Something on your mind, Ms. Brooks?” He sounds both amused and aroused. And his erection—now growing beneath the thin material—is certainly proof of the latter.
“I believe we discussed playing doctor?”
“Did we?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I tug loose the drawstring, and then let the sweats fall off him, though I do have to rearrange the material a bit to free his growing erection.
His sweats pool around his ankles, and as they do I lean forward and lick the tip of his cock.
“Oh, dear god,” he says, and twines his fingers in my hair. “What the hell are you doing?”
I laugh. “Sweetheart, if you don’t know—” And then, because I’m inspired, I grin up at him. “I’m taking your temperature,” I say, and then take him into my mouth as deep as I can.