“Put your shirt on,” I order, completely ignoring him.
“You weren’t at the meetings today. Earlier tonight. Is this part of the we can’t do this so I’m going to ignore you thing again?” he asks as he takes a step closer.
Keep your eyes on his.
Not his body.
Not the dark tattoo snaking up his biceps and part of his torso.
Not the happy trail that disappears just beneath the band of his jeans.
“I had my reasons,” I finally say.
“Which were?”
I couldn’t stop thinking about you or the way your hands felt on me. The way your lips tasted. The thought that I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.
But that’s just lust, Bristol. Pure, unadulterated lust fueled by one Vince Jennings, the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
That, and it doesn’t help that it’s been some time—a very long some time—since I’ve had sex. Being a single mom means Jagger comes first. It means my needs aren’t always met, and while I’ve completely accepted that, it doesn’t make them go away.
But me being horny and in a dry spell doesn’t mean I have to give in to the man making my body ache with need.
Because Vince is still Vince. He’ll leave. I’ll be left behind. And risking my job to satisfy this itch he’s created isn’t worth it.
And the other day in the studio came way too close for comfort. It was a moment of weakness that I have no intention of repeating regardless of how incredibly hot he looks standing there shirtless.
I’m not just living for me anymore. Isn’t that what it all comes down to?
That kind of selflessness is something Vince has no clue about.
But those are all things I can’t exactly explain to him, so I settle on, “I was busy.” His expression tells me he knows I’m full of shit. “I figured you’d be at the studio.”
He snorts. “I’m stuck. Writer’s block or whatever you want to call it. It’s becoming a thing and I’m not particularly thrilled with it.”
“So why are you here?”
“Had a last-minute meeting with Will and Jasmine. Needed to discuss a few things that have come up that I want and don’t want to cover before we head back to Fairfield next week.”
The statement intrigues me. The mention of having to go out of town next week, not so much.
“You must have a crap ton of work to do if you’re still here at ten at night,” he says.
“I was enjoying the silence. The incredibly fast Internet. The lack of interruptions.” I shrug and know with my next statement that I’m letting him in more than I think I had previously intended to. “It’s the best place to study.”
“Study?” Even in the moonlight, I can see the surprise in his eyes.
“LSATs. Better late than never, right?”
“Bristol.” He stares at me with a subtle shake to his head. “That’s great. Congrats—well, congrats on a high score because I know you’ll get one, but . . . why didn’t you say anything before?”
“You don’t need to know everything about me.”
His chuckle rumbles through the night. “You let me stick my face between your thighs, but get offended as if I’m invading your privacy when I ask about going to law school?” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Are we back to being Stand-offish Bristol again?”
I huff and he laughs. “I didn’t think it mattered. In a few weeks, you’ll be back to your world, and I’ll stay here in mine. You knowing I’m taking the LSATs doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things.”
He angles his head to the side. “Why can’t you study at home?”
“Why can’t you call Hawkin and try to fix things with your best friend?”
“That was a subtle change of topic.” His laugh is quick and his sigh is heavy.
“Nothing gets by you.”
“Like you said, in a couple of weeks I’ll be back to my life and you to yours and my reconciliation or lack thereof with Hawke won’t matter.”
“True, but you miss him. You miss them.”
“That’s neither here nor there.” He clears his throat, cups the side of my face, and runs his thumb over my jaw. I should step back, need to, because for all I know, Xavier scans the cameras every minute, and yet for once, I give myself the grace to tilt my head into his palm. “You’re exhausted. Burning the candle at both ends, huh?”
“I’m fine,” I say and, as if on cue, my yawn comes.
“Let’s get you home.”
“I have to call AAA. My car—”
“Will be fine here for the night. I’ll get it taken care of for you.”
“I can handle it myself. I don’t want anything from you.”
Vince’s eyes flash up to meet mine, the words from our past still as poignant now as they were back then. “I know you don’t. But sue me for wanting to take care of it for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Vince
She’s holding something back from me.
Something that’s happened to her. Something that has derailed her. I don’t know what it is, but Bristol isn’t telling me the whole truth.
And I hate it but also at the same time, I have no right to know what she isn’t telling me either.
Just like you haven’t said shit about your dad to anyone.
I scrub my hand through my hair and glance over to her where she’s dozed off in the passenger seat.
Her head is resting on the window, her eyes are closed, and her breathing is even. The lights and shadows play across her face as I make my way to the address she typed into my phone.
There’s something so right about her being here, beside me, letting me take care of her. It shouldn’t be, but it just is.
It’s her. She always felt so right. Her trust isn’t something I deserve—especially after how I left things last time—but it’s what I desperately want.
Should I be flirting with her? No.
Do I hope she loses her job? Fuck no.
But she’s like a drug, and all I can think about is the next taste of it. Deserved or not.
I navigate through an older neighborhood. Apartments line the streets and the sidewalks are cracked. Trees compete with streetlights for space.
It feels generic.
Just like Bristol’s car.
And not that there is anything wrong with that, because isn’t that where I came from? The norm where everyone is like everyone else, all struggling to survive the day to day, all fighting to get a leg up in the world?
A place I should still be, in all honesty.
But most definitely not where she should be, though.
Guilt eats at me. It’s raw and real and unfounded as I pull up to the curb, but it’s there nonetheless.
What if I hadn’t left last time?
What if I knew how to fix the fucked-up inside me so I could be what she deserves?
What if. What if. What if.
I shift the SUV into park, strangely hoping to have a few more moments with her, but the motion startles her awake. Her hands flail, knocking her purse off her lap so some of the contents fall onto the floor mat.
Flustered, she clambers to gather everything and shove it back in her purse. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to—”
“Bristol.” She shoves another thing into her purse. “It’s okay. Relax.” I place my hand on her forearm to calm her down. Funny thing is, I didn’t know how much I needed the connection too. Her eyes meet mine and when she smiles, the only thought I can manage is, why is this so easy when it simply can’t be? “You’re burning the candle at both ends. Don’t apologize.”
I climb out of the car and open her door for her. “Let me walk you up.”
“No. I’m fine. Really. It’s just up the stairs.” She smiles and I write off her jitters for just having been startled awake.
Every part of me wants to kiss her goodnight. Wants to follow her up those stairs. Wants to feel the warmth of her body against mine. Wants to wake up next to her.
Turn it off. Shut it down. Walk away.
It’s not about what’s best for you when it comes to her, Jennings. It’s always been about what’s best for her.
Why change now?
I lean forward and brush a kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Shug. Get some sleep. Text me in the morning, and I’ll make sure you get to work on time.”