Chat (4 page)

Fuck,
I went too far, I knew I did.

Cursing, I closed the browser window and slammed the laptop closed, heading for the shower.

It took less than four thrusts of my hand before I was coming. I groaned, picturing Sandy’s legs, spread at her desk, those fucking sexy reading glasses perched on her nose, and that tight little pencil skirt…

Goddamn it.
I soaped up quickly before rinsing in the coldest water I could stand.

Joplin whined near the bed, and I tucked a towel around my waist, moving to the kitchen. My iPhone buzzed in the bowl with my keys.

I reached for the device, scanning the text.

Boss.
I’m sorry. You okay?

I sighed, thinking back to the eighteen-year-old girl on the dock of my parent’s lake. After I’d kissed her that night, we’d gathered sleeping bags and spent the night under the stars.
After a series of three formal dates that were horribly awkward and, in hindsight, utterly scripted, I had her pinned beneath me on my parent’s couch while they spent the weekend in Las Vegas.

By the time I had my hand under her shirt, she was pulling away,
and I knew that her nerves had gotten the best of her. “Jason. I’m so afraid this will ruin
everything
. Please, please understand where I’m coming from here. We both know what happens after you sleep with someone. It just falls apart.
Please
.”

I’d relinquished control, just as I always did, allowing her to change our future at that moment. We went back to being friends, and eventually grew even closer as the years passed between us.

Never, ever, not in twenty-six years, had I spoken to Sandy like I just had over the chat. Had I ever jerked off and thought of her? I’d be a fucking liar if I said no. But I had no words for what had just happened between us.

And then, guilt punched me square in the gut.

Jack
.

Fuuuck
. What had I done? As much as I barely tolerated the tool, I meant no disrespect to him, especially since Sandy
loved
him.

She loves him.

I touched my screen, texting a quick reply.

Me.
Don’t be sorry. I took it too far. My fault babe.

Her text was almost instantaneous.

Boss.
You didn’t. You were doing really well.

Okay,
she was taking the whole life-coach attitude way too far.

Me
.
Yeah? How well?

I waited a second, and then slowly lowered to the couch as her text slid through.

Boss.
You made me come, Jason.

My fingers froze.

What?

I was hard again in
under two seconds.

Barely managing to hold my phone without dropping it to the floor, I texted as I walked to my bedroom.

Me.
I did?

Boss.
Did I do anything for you?

I exhaled sharply.

Me.
Are you kidding? I just got off in the shower, and I’m ready again.

God, waiting for her text, I actually thought about smoking again. I hadn’t smoked in six year
s.

Finally,
finally
, her text slid through.

Boss.
Jack just got home. I’ll see you in the morning.

I stiffened.

See you in the morning?

Me.
How many stars?

Her text came
through immediately.

Boss.
OMG. All of them.

I grinned, oddly pleased with myself.

All of them.

The ding from
Facebook chat sounded from my small living room, and I paced back to the laptop. Part of me wanted it to be Sandy again.

Carissa was online, messaging me.

I moved to the kitchen to grab another beer before settling in front of the laptop again.

CHAPTER THREE

Sandy

“How’d the presentation go?”

Jack’s voice startled me. I adjusted the shower temperature a few degrees cooler, watching him move in the bathroom through the frosted glass door.

“
It was okay. I wasn’t clear on the retention numbers, but it was okay.”

“Are you going to be in there long?”

“No, I’m getting out now. Did you want to come in?”

“No, I just want to talk to you.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

He closed the door, and I buried my face in my hands.

Jason
.

They were just words. They meant nothing. Had I done exactly what he said? Had I pulled my skirt up to my thighs and put my hand between my legs?

Yes.

And it was hot.

Were the words hot? His tone?

Or the fact that it was
Jason?

Cringing, I turned the water off.

I’d fully expected our chat to be completely silly, just as immature as it always was. I dried my hair, wrapping myself in the towel before reaching for my phone.

Pulling up my
Facebook app, I scrolled through our conversation.

As I caught key words, I felt the inevitable throbbing between my legs.

Squeezing my eyes closed
, I swept my thumb across the screen until I found our conversation from a couple of weeks ago. We never chatted on Facebook; usually we’d call or text each other.

Alexandra Quinn:
Brew!! Katrina Wells is in jail! Drug charges!!

And then I’d linked the article with her mug shot.

Jason Brewer:
Meth…. haha. Karma, you nasty bitch.

Alexandra Quinn:
It’ll be a lot easier to knock her teeth out now lol

Jason Brewer:
Easy tiger ;-)

I twisted the doorknob, and Jack met me in the bedroom.

“Hi,” he said, and I smiled, tucking the white towel tighter under my arms.

“Hi,” I echoed. He bent to press a soft kiss to my lips, and I tried to stop the guilty thoughts that plagued my mind.

Jason.

Jason, Jason, Jason-

“Sorry I had to run back to the office. I promise to make it up to you,” he whispered, tugging at the towel. I looked down and gripped the cotton firmly.

“Wait, you said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I can’t talk to you while you’re naked?”

“Jack.”

He smiled, and I li
fted my eyes to his. He was six-foot-tall, so to my five-foot-five, I had to tilt my head back to see him fully. His square jaw and dark brown hair gave him a classically handsome appearance, and I remembered my mom comparing him to a young Robert Redford when I’d first brought him home to meet my parents.

That
was Thanksgiving, three years ago. I’d met Jack at our annual sales conference. He was an independent insurance agent who had been invited to the annual sales conference based on the amount of production he’d given our company, and he’d wasted no time hitting on me that first night.

“Alexandra?” h
e’d asked, his voice rising with a clarifying tone. I’d dressed to kill that night, trying to make the best impression in hopes of finally meeting someone worth my time.

“Sandy,” I’d corrected, accepting the drink that he offered me.
“Alexandra on paper.”

He’d raised those dark eyebrows, and while I was sure he was going for charming, he came off as
schmoozy, the kind of guy I’d almost expected to find at… well, a sales conference.

“Well, Alexandra on paper, I’m Jack. And you look almost as good on paper as you do in person.”

I’d realized at that moment that I was talking to Jackson Stone, the owner of Jackson Stone Insurance, Inc., and the same man I’d talked to more than ten times over the past year, on the phone.

“Oh… Jack.
Stone. I recognize your voice now. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was you,” I admitted, flushing prettily- for his benefit.

“Yeah, my PR photo isn’t the best.”

“You’re better up close,” I admitted honestly, and my own schmoozy sales tone only widened his smirk.

“So I already know so much about you, and you already know so much about me. Want t
o take these drinks upstairs?” he asked, straight forward, not one waver in his confident voice.

I arched my eyebrow, tucking one hand under my elbow and taking a long drink with the other. “I should probably make you work a little harder, but the conference is only two days. So, yes, I fucking want to go upstairs. But first,” I nodded toward Jason, noticing his eyes
were locked on me- and Jack. “Let me say goodnight to my co-workers. Okay?”

He grinned.
“
Anything for you, Alexandra.
”

We slept together that night, and had moved in together within a month.

And that was three years ago.

And now, I’d waited- patiently- for Jack to
ask me to marry him. If I glanced at a wedding dress for too long, he’d launch into a litany of reasons why marriage was the worst possible decision this early in a relationship.

Early as in three years.

He stood before me now, squaring his shoulders. “Okay. I’m going to just come right out and ask you. Try to hear me out, okay?” he began.

My heart drop
ped into my stomach. “Oh my God. Oh God. If you propose to me right here, while I’m standing in our bedroom in a towel, I’ll kill you.”

He froze,
then exhaled a puff of laughter. “Propose? Alexandra, really?”

I shrugged, lowering my eyes. “What? Okay, I probably wouldn’t kill you. I’d probably say yes, and
ask what took you so long.”

He shook his head once. “Now, that’s a lot further down the road, we’ve talked about that.”

We’ve talked about that? I wanted to kick him in the shins.

“Just tell me what you want to tell me, for fuck’s sake.”

He winced at my language, but I ignored him.

“I want to open an agency.
In Florida.”

I felt a cold, wet droplet of water slide down the middle of my back.

“What are you asking me? That’s not a question,” I demanded.

He smiled, cupping my face in his hands. “I want to move to Florida.
With you. And open an agency.”

I jerked away, turning toward the bathroom. “No.”

“No?” he called after me, and I could hear the heat rising in his voice. “No? The business that I’m writing there is fifty-seven percent more preferred than what I’m doing in Ohio, West Virginia, and both the Carolinas put together! My retention rates are at over ninety percent, with homeowners-”

“Shut
up!
I don’t want to hear your sales figures! I want to hear you tell me why I should drop my entire life to pick up to move to
Florida
with you. My parents are here. My
job
is here. My life is here, Jack!”

“You’ve got no room for advancement where you are. If you
move with me and work for me-”

“Whoa. Whoa. Are you fucking kidding me? Work for you?”

“Well, yes. I’ll need you on the front lines, quoting customers, getting business in the door while I-”

“You need a secretary. You don’t need me.”

He caught me by the arm, his eyes glazing over. “Stop walking away from me. Go over there to the bed and sit down. I expect you to respect me, and listen to me.”

I wrenched my arm away from him and slammed the bathroom door, twisting the lock.

He pounded on the wood with a reaction so unexpected that I jumped and shrieked.

“Open this fucking door right now, Alexandra, or I swear I will break it down.”

I knew Jack’s temper, and playing games with him when he was angry would be absolutely stupid.

But I knew myself, too, and couldn’t help but laugh at the closed door.
“Really? Break it down? With what? Your handy ax?”

He began beating against the door.

In utter panic and disbelief, I grabbed for my phone from the bathroom sink, texting Jason as fast as I could.

Help me

I knew what was about to happen.

I’d pushed him too far, and I was going to be punished for it.

I’d done everything right; he texted me and told me he was on his way home, and I’d canceled dinner plans with Jason and come straight home.

I’d never called for help before. Not one time.