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SKYE

I’m nervously biting my nails and realize, if I don’t stop, I’m going to nibble them down to the cuticle. Pulling my finger from my mouth, I rub my clammy hands down the fabric of my dress.

As Jacob stands at the front of the conference room, leading our weekly meeting, I can’t stop looking at him and now that I know what’s under his crisp white dress shirt, I can almost make out the faint abstract outlines of ink that cover his body. He’s a living, breathing work of art, making me want to explore every inch of him.

“So that wraps up our Monday morning project briefing.” He scratches the scruff on his face, then pushes his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers. “Any questions?”

He looks around the conference room table, continuing to act like I don’t exist.

I should have used a sick day.

While jealousy is not an emotion I’m familiar with, it’s a feeling I’ve become best friends with over the past two nights. I’m jealous of the way he touched that girl, the way he fucked her.

I want that to be me.

Conflicted, pure desire has taken up permanent residency in my veins, messing with every thought I’m now having about Jacob.

It’s pure carnal need and want.

That one night seems to have changed everything.

I sit straighter in the boardroom chair, feeling hot all over. Uncomfortably so. He’s the one I fantasized about as I got myself off last night in the shower, and whose eyes, tattoos, and muscular body I saw as I finally drifted off to sleep at five o’clock this morning.

If I could slap some sense into myself right now, I would. Because he’s not just my ex’s best friend. He’s my boss.

And now it feels… awkward?

Plus, Jacob’s attitude to me this morning is making it worse.

“Okay. We are done. Thank you all. And Pete?” Jacob addresses our account manager. “Can we schedule a meeting with finance to discuss the JoJo and Crow account?”

Pete salutes Jacob. “On it. I’ll calendar that in for next week. That way, we are prepared, as I know you and Skye are going to London for that meeting next month.”

Are we?

I love London, but last year Jacob and I went to New York, and it was one of the most incredible business trips I’ve been on.

Once our meeting with our client was over, Jacob extended our visit by two days. It was a complete sightseeing whirlwind, but unforgettable. He took me to the Museum of the City of New York, where they were exhibiting David Carson’s work. I freaked out when our cab pulled up out the front of the museum. I mean, it was David Carson—only the most freaking well-known graphic designer in the world.

Jacob told me how cute my mini freak-out was, as he proceeded to hire a dedicated curator to show us around, and to top the trip off, he even took me to the theater to see Wicked .

I still can’t fathom out how he knew it was my favorite musical.

He’s so thoughtf?—

Shattered fragments of my thoughts begin piecing themselves together, and it suddenly dawns on me. The bicycle tire repair kit he bought me in case I got a puncture on the way to work, the secret Santa gift last year—a program of Wicked the musical signed by Idina Menzel—his interest in the books I read, his texts to make sure I am safe when I cycle home from work…

I think Jacob likes me.

Not just as a friend. But more.

No, that can’t be right. Can it? I mean, it’s Jacob.

But everything he’s done for me… It all begins to make sense.

And he’s never said anything.

How long has he liked me? Did he like me in New York?

Or am I wrong? Am I overthinking the whole situation after Saturday night’s events?

Events? It was more than an event. He made me come. It doesn’t matter that it was my fingers. It was all him. And I wanted every second of it.

But was it more than a moment? Was it something bigger? Is it something he’s wanted for longer than I’ve realized?

I massage my fingertips into my temples, trying desperately to think of anything else that could prove I am on the right path.

Did it start at school? I mean, he spoke to me all the time at school and always walked me home.

Oh. My. God.

No way. That’s impossible.

I flinch when Jacob says my name. “Skye. Are you listening?”

My fingers drop from my temples and I stutter, “Eh, yeah, no, sorry, what? I was thinking about the printing problems I needed to resolve today.”

“Printing problems?” Jacob questions me, his eyebrows rising.

“Not anymore, no. Sorry. We did have problems. It’s all sorted.” I manage a tense smile as my heart beats uncontrollably. “Sorry, what were you saying?” I push my shoulders back, suddenly aware of my appearance.

Not one to become obsessional about boys or any boy for that matter, I have become that girl. The girls at school I used to roll my eyes at. The giggling, flirting and planning what outfit to wear each day to impress the boy they had their heart set on that week.

I’ve turned into the dumbass that cares about what I wore today and how I look right now, behind this boardroom table. For a boy. A man. Definitely a man.

A gorgeous, tattooed devil in a white shirt.

Jacob finally makes eye contact with me, and my heart skips a beat. “I was asking if you had time to read the email I sent you this morning and if you are able to attend London with me next month for five days? I need you.”

He needs me.

He adds, “Frankie can’t make it.”

He doesn’t need me at all. Not personally. It’s strictly business. Stupid girl.

“Oh.”

“Is that a yes or a no, Skye?” His brow wrinkles as he waits for me to answer.

I clear my throat. “Yes, I can attend.”

Five days. Alone. With Jacob.

Goddammit.

“Good,” he says curtly. “Okay, thank you, everyone. You can all go.” He stays rooted to the spot.

As if a veil has been lifted from my eyes, I’m seeing him in a whole new light.

My brain is working overtime, and I need to get out of here.

I push my seat back to leave along with everyone else, but Jacob stops me. “Skye, stay seated please,” he barks, making it sound much more like a demand than a request.

My breath hitches in my chest. If he mentions Saturday night, I might die.

“Someone’s in trouble.” Shona, Jacob’s personal assistant, squeezes my shoulder as she passes me.

“Shut up, Shona,” I hiss and she laughs back at me.

Jacob storms over to the frosted glass door and bangs it shut, making me jump.

He lets out a heavy breath and swivels on the balls of his feet. Walking back toward the table, he lays his hands flat against the tabletop, arms spread wide, and glares at me. “Do you mind explaining this shit, Skye?”

“Explaining what?” I feign innocence.

“This.” He lifts a piece of paper and dangles it in front of me before ripping it into pieces and throwing it in the trash can.

I clear my now fossil-dry throat and croak, “I can’t stay here, not after…” I look up at him as he storms toward my chair.

I suddenly feel tiny in comparison to his six-foot-two, broad-shouldered frame.

“You’re not resigning, Skye.” Displeasure bounces off of him, filling the room with tension.

When I wrote that letter last night, it seemed like such a good idea, although in hindsight, it feels like I’ve made the worst decision. I love my job, but how can I stay after what happened between us?

“I must apologize for my behavior and for…” I struggle to grit the words out. “Watching you.” I whisper my last two words and turn my head the other way, unable to look at him. “It was very unprofessional of me.”

“We both crossed a line. A line that we won’t cross again. We scratched an itch. End of story.”

I sneak a cheeky glance his way as he straightens to his full height, folding his thick arms across his broad chest. He’s gorgeous.

“Skye?”

“Sorry.” I bow my head and fiddle with the hem of my dress. “I just, I’m… You make me nervous and I’m a wee bit embarrassed about what happened,” I mumble. “I’m confused about Saturday, and now there’s everything else.” I lift my head, my eyes connecting with his. “You. Us. High school.”

“High school? What the hell has that got to do with your resignation?” His brows dip low, causing his forehead to wrinkle.

“Nothing.”

And everything.

“I mean, I’ve probably got it all wrong. Just forget everything I said. Saturday… it was a lot. It’s got me all in a spin.”

“You’re not resigning. I won’t let you go.” He runs his bear-sized hand back and forth across his buzz cut.

His jaw tics a couple of times as he clenches it, as if holding in what he really wants to say.

“Do you even have a job to go to, Skye?”

I shake my head.

He points to the shredded pieces of my resignation letter. “So why?”

“I’ve told you… because of Saturday. I’m sorry for what happened,” I whisper then bow my head again.

He lowers his voice to a gentle murmur that soothes my anxiety. “Skye. I’m sorry too. I was out of order the other night. You can sue me for sexual harassment.”

I scoff, lifting my eyes to meet his. “I would never do that.”

“But you can if you want to. I’m giving you permission. I seriously breached our employer contract. And as my employee, it’s my duty to make sure your well-being is taken care of.”

I’d like him to take care of me.

He pushes his hands into his pockets. “I messed up and I will not have you punish yourself for my behavior.”

He continues, “Blame me. Not yourself. I take full responsibility for my inappropriate actions the other evening. If I hadn’t asked you to…”

“Make myself come while I watched you with that girl in your office,” I blurt out.

He clenches his jaw harder this time, forcing his nostrils to flare while ignoring what I’ve said. “You have two choices. Sue me, I leave and you stay, or you accept my apology and stay. Whatever you choose, you are staying. End of story.”

“I would never raise a formal complaint against you. You’re my friend.” My eyes soften as I shake my head in disbelief at his suggestion.

“I’m your boss .” His words drive a nail through my heart.

“Is that all you are to me?” I ask breathlessly.

Tilting his head back, he stares at the ceiling, before resting his hands on his hips and when he finally looks back at me, his green eyes are dancing with something I can’t explain. “Don’t,” he warns.

Disappointed he’s not taking the bait, I ask, “Can I go now?”

He nods then reaffirms our agreement. “Yes. But just so we’re clear. Forget what happened over the weekend. You are not resigning. Promotion is on the horizon for you, Skye. This place is your life. You love it here and you’re shit-hot at your job. I won’t let Saturday change that. Andrew is leaving. He’s moving to Edinburgh with his new wife, so you will slot straight into his position as creative director,” Jacob informs me.

“Director?” I repeat, stunned by the news.

“We have to interview you first as a formality, but it’s yours if you want it.”

“I want it,” I say far too quickly.

His familiar warm smile returns. “Then it’s yours. But please tell me I didn’t fuck this up.” Jacob motions to the space between us. “You’re staying, right?”

I can’t help the gigantic smile that breaks free from my lips, too. “Yes,” I confirm.

“Thank fuck for that. My father would never forgive me if we lost you.” He lets out an audible breath.

I push my chair back and pull myself to full height to face him, but I’m still tiny by comparison.

“What were you doing here on a Saturday night, Skye? Should you not have been out at a bar crying into your cocktails over Owen? That’s what Owen’s been doing over you.”

“I had no plans on Saturday and I had a great idea for a logo.” I pause to study his face. He seamlessly pulls off looking moody and handsome at the same time, which is no mean feat. “And I’m not sad about Owen.”

Jacob’s forehead furrows in confusion. “You’re not?”

“No.” I shrug. “We were coasting, and you know it.” I close the space between us. “I didn’t love Owen. Not romantically.”

“You didn’t?” His Adam’s apple slowly moves as he takes an audible gulp.

“It was fun to begin with, but when the fun ended, there was no foundation to our relationship. We ended up being friends with benefits.”

He winces as if he’s in physical pain.

I continue, “I’m not sad or mad.” I bite my lip teasingly, circling the focus back to him and me. “And I’m glad I was here on Saturday night, or I would have missed the show.”

“Did you like it?” he asks, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my cheek.

Unblinking, I reply in a whisper, “Every minute.”

He doesn’t respond, but his breathing becomes heavier.

“You have a beautiful body, Jacob. I like your new tattoos,” I murmur as I trace my fingers over the buttons on his shirt, knowing that I am skating on very thin ice and this could backfire badly but I’m desperate to see if he reacts.

He clenches his jaw, making the veins in his neck strain, highlighting his pounding pulse.

“I’m trying to be fucking good here, Skye. You aren’t making it easy.”

I look down to discover his dress trousers working hard to conceal his huge erection.

I sweeten up my voice, playing with him to get an answer. “You called her Skye.”

He pauses, letting his eyes drop down my body and then back up to my face. “I did.”

“Why?”

“I can’t answer that,” he replies, sounding almost pained.

“Do you like me, Jacob?”

He blows out a long, slow breath. “We could never happen.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Do you have feelings for me?”

Every inch of him smells like desire and sin, and his face looks like he’s fighting a battle with his conscience. Finally, he speaks. “You are Owen’s ex-girlfriend, and I have an agreement with my boys.”

“Is that the stupid pact you three made when you were fourteen?” I scoff.

“Yes. And it’s not stupid.”

“And all these years later, it’s still in place?” I lay my hand on his chest, trying to soothe the stress and anger that seems to surge through his body. He hisses as if I’ve burned him.

“Yes, our bro code still stands. So, I suggest you take your hand off me.” He grits his jaw. “And you have never been interested in me, so we have nothing to worry about here.” The hunger in his eyes tells me a different story.

“But what if I am interested now?” I skim my fingers around his shirt collar. To a passerby, I look like I’m straightening it, but they can’t see my fingertips skimming over his neck or hear the way his breathing reacts to my touch.

He grabs my wrist. “Enough,” he says, instantly releasing me as if I scorched his skin. “I can’t touch you,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

I take a step back. “Well, that’s a shame because I really enjoyed the other night. It’s all I’ve thought about.”

“You’ve no idea who you’re playing with, Butterfly.” He looks as shocked with his words as I am.

“Oh, I think I know, Jacob. Remember, I’ve known you since we were teenagers. I’m playing with the guy who’s hiding his feelings for me. Who fucked a girl over his desk while pretending it was me and then made me come on his demand. And it’s also the guy who won’t break his stupid ‘bro code’.” I wrap finger air quotes around his stupid agreement. “To be with the girl he likes. But what he doesn’t know is that, since Saturday, all I’ve thought about is him. How he fucked that girl, how much I wanted it to be me, and how much I want him to touch me right now.” I clear my throat, feeling brave. “It’s the same guy I imagined last night when I made myself come.” I almost blush. I’ve never been a dirty talker before, but I want him to know what he’s doing to me.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“I know exactly who I am playing with, Jacob. The question is whether he’s going to play the game too.”