“For all it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Jett said. “I know I should have told you, but the opportunity never presented itself, and then I didn’t really see the point.”
I waved my hand. “It’s fine. But never lie to me again.”
“There’s something else.”
I glanced up at his face. His brows were still drawn but his eyes shimmered with something I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Seriously, what was this? Confession day? I eyed him warily. “What?” His lips twitched, and I realized he was having a hard time not to laugh.
“I’m not sure you remember, but the next day I helped you home from yet another bar. You were drunk out of your mind, again.”
My memories flew back to the night I found out about my promotion, and Sylvie decided she wanted to celebrate by wearing a belt as a skirt. She had been adamant she saw Jett watching us, and I had been pretty sure I caught a glimpse of green eyes through my alcohol-induced haze.
I should have asked what the heck he had been doing at Vixen’s and how he had found me in the first place. Instead, I found myself smiling like an idiot, thinking how cute he was for taking care of me…until I realized I most certainly hadn’t been a pretty sight.
“Oh, gosh.” I dropped my head onto my arms, mortified. “I don’t scrub up so well drunk.”
“You were very talkative, and definitely a lot nicer than when you’re sober.”
Was that a hint of humor in his voice? I straightened up to take in the amused curve of his stunning lips. He was making fun of me.
“What did I say?”
“That I had the most gorgeous eyes.”
Oh god.
I loved his eyes, but he didn’t need to know that. At least I didn’t say anything about his lips.
“Tucked in your bed you said you wanted to feel my mouth on your whole body.”
Earth, swallow me up whole!
I groaned. “You probably misunderstood.”
Jett inclined his head in mock concentration, probably recalling every single shameful word of that fateful night. “I doubt that. You were pretty specific with the details.” The fragile skin under his twinkling eyes creased, and his lips twitched as though he was having a hard time not to laugh. “I could show you what exactly you wanted me to do.”
I had made a fool of myself already, so why not make the best of it?
“Sure.” My mouth found his in a heated kiss as I let him pull me into bed, stripping our clothes off, our luggage forgotten.
***
Our flight back to New York had a half-hour delay. Sitting in the waiting area at Malpesa airport with Jett holding my hand felt surreal. For some reason, I expected him to put some distance between us once we left the privacy of his mansion. To my surprise, he didn’t seem in the least fazed by people seeing us together. It gave me hope that once we were back in New York, he wouldn’t end whatever we had because I liked him more than I wanted to admit.
We stopped to buy newspapers for him and magazines for me, and then boarded the plane for the nine hour flight that would take us back home. In the harsh veracity of the real world, he was rich, successful, and one of the most desired bachelors in New York—and I was, well, me. A world I hoped wouldn’t tear us apart by pointing out just how different our lives were.
“You’re probably eager to get home,” Jett whispered in my ear so the flight attendant serving coffee wouldn’t hear us, “but will you stay with me one more night? I’m not quite ready to let this go.”
“I’d love to.” Smiling, I kissed him as my heat began to do one somersault after another, probably interpreting more into his words than I should have.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
After waking up in Jett’s stunning apartment sixteen hours later, we lingered in bed, fingers intertwined, bodies melting in a tight embrace. Jett smelled of cologne and sex, and for the first time in my life I found the scent intoxicating, just like the man beside me. And it dawned on me that Jett had brought many ‘firsts’ into my life.
“What are you smiling about?” he whispered, tracing the contours of my lips with the index finger he had so shamelessly driven into me only an hour ago.
“Nothing.” I stretched out like a cat in front of a fireplace, enjoying the last few hours before routine would kick in.
We were about to step out of our shell and back into the real world, which worried me. The last two weeks had been interesting, with very little work and very much other stuff. Back home, it was only a matter of time until reality would crawl back in, and I realized things would most certainly change. I wished I could hold on to us forever, lock us up in a protective cocoon, and let the world pass us by so nothing and no one could ever touch or separate us.
Was that what love felt like? Wanting at all costs to protect the frail shell of emotions coating our hearts?