Page 58

Jackson St. James

If Marlow Marché knows how to do one thing, it’s torture me.

Sexy ass.

Tight dress.

Killer curves on full display.

Her gaze locks with mine from across the room. Our arrangement has been a highlight of the past four months.

Who knew that these added benefits with one of my closest friends would end up being the best sex of my life?

Or that sneaking around with her would be more fun than publicly parading any other woman in this city?

We’ve agreed it’s been fun to act like there’s nothing to see here, to pretend that I don’t know what it feels like to be buried deep inside her heat, or like she hasn’t made me privy to the fact that she likes to be bent over and taken from behind.

We’ve fucked every way imaginable, yet with midnight fast approaching, I can’t stop thinking about kissing her tonight.

I realize now that I would have been content staying home on New Year’s, celebrating with her at my place or hers. Low-key. Order in. Have some drinks. Kick back and then have sex.

She’s been doing a fine fucking job of torturing me since the moment she opened the door.

But now, from across the room—locking eyes with me as another man vies for her attention—it’s another level.

Tired of the distance, I weave my way through the party, heading straight for her.

Eyeing the curve of her exposed lower back where it meets the top of her ass, I lower my gaze to the short red dress highlighting her great legs and then back up.

The graceful line of her neck is on display under a loose twist of her hair, drawing my attention to that spot I tease with my tongue near her ear that drives her wild.

It’s warm in here, so I tug on my collar.

Slowing when I pass from behind, I lean in close and whisper, “I’ll be on the balcony if you’re looking for someone to kiss, Marché.”

Turning back, I catch her gaze dip to get a good look at my backside before those bright blues reach mine.

“And why would I be looking for someone to kiss, St. James?” She takes a sip of her champagne, acting prim when I know how she shreds my clothes when we’re alone.

Those buttons don’t stand a chance against her desire to see me naked.

I don’t either, but I never did when it came to Marlow.

We may have been just friends all these years, but I always gave in to her whims. And more recently, to her sexual desires. Not without a little, or a lot , of teasing as a lead-in. But we both benefit from the deal we made.

I tap my watch and wink. “Ten minutes.”

She grins before some jackoff dressed in a tux dares to fucking touch her bare shoulder to get her attention. There’s more than one reason she’s watching me, so the fucker needs to take the hint and move along.

Of course, he doesn’t hear my internal tirade. I’m a gentleman, after all, and this is a party. My fists clench, but I keep walking, not looking to end this year in a fight or start the next one in jail.

She removes his hand from her body just before her eyes meet mine again and the slightest of grins graces her lips. She enjoys making me jealous, but it’s become more agonizing every day.

The woman may have been pampered her whole life, but I’ve learned firsthand that the last thing Marlow wants stepping into the mix is a man.

She doesn’t let anybody into her life that easily, which has been one of the hurdles we’ve faced.

So I know she can handle that situation without my assistance.

I’ve become a student, intent on learning everything about what makes her tick. I’ve spent our time together studying how the puzzle pieces of our lives might fit together. Or if it’s an impossibility.

I read her body language like a book, digging deeper into each of her expressions, the sounds of her pleasure, and most of her glances.

The way her eyes lock on mine, telling me she wants me without saying a word.

Her annoyance, seen in the roll of her eyes when I talk sports with the guys.

The impatience that embodies her tapping foot when she’s bored and ready to go to the next place.

Those are the simple ways she expresses herself.

It’s the soft lines on the outside corners of her eyes that make my chest tighten.

I know the genuine smile that caused them is from something I said or the joy she feels.

The gentle way she touches my leg when a meal with our friends has her feeling connected to me, even if short-lived.

Even when she treats what we do as casual sex, I see through her.

Marlow Marché has started treating me in ways that allow wonder to creep in— what if we tried for more? I’m not opposed to this idea anymore, not like I used to be. In fact, with her, I’m beginning to like it.

A lot.

Little mysteries embody the parts of her left to discover, and I can’t wait to unravel every one of them.

“Jackson?” Fuck. “There you are,” Mr. Morgenstern starts.

He’s a former client from when I was an advisor for Christiansen Wealth Management.

We made a lot of money together. He also hosts one of the best parties in Manhattan.

Not only did I score an invite but my five friends were also included.

I wouldn’t have come if they weren’t, but I thought I’d actually get to spend time with them. I haven’t. Not so far.

I’ve been paraded around the place as Morgenstern’s golden ticket. But I need a break from the stale financial conversations I’ve been stuck in for the past two hours, looking for free advice.

“Do you have time to meet with a friend in the library? He’s in need of some good advice,” he asks.

I start backing through the crowd. “It’s almost midnight, and I promised my friends?—”

He checks his watch. “ Ah. Yes. Go. I need to find my wife. She’ll kill me if I don’t kiss her.”

I escape, leaving him there mumbling about Argentina 1986. Sounds like that was the only time he’d made the mistake of not kissing his wife at the stroke of midnight.

Tugging at the sleeve of my dress shirt, I straighten the cuff as I trek through the party toward the large balcony. Large being the distinguishing factor from the other three this apartment has.

When I push through the door, the gang is almost back together. As best friends since college, we always kick off the new year together. Rad, Tealey, Cade, Cammie, and me. We’re only missing Marlow. I’m hoping she’ll be here in time, but we didn’t set anything in stone. We never do.

A wink.

A nod.

A subtle insinuation.

That’s usually enough for the other to get the hint to move behind closed doors. Even when subtle, she knows the signals without me making a production. I don’t have to chase her down just like she doesn’t do that to me, but when I look back, she’s not coming. Yet.

Should I sneak back in to help her free herself from the crowd, or should I disappear to avoid being stood up? Maybe.

Whatever I decide, I need to figure it out fast. That or be stuck with couples kissing all around me while I stand alone at midnight twiddling my thumbs. Or staring at me, like they are now, which makes me think it’s too late to make a break for it. “Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” Rad replies, moving his arm from his fiancée Tealey’s waist to her shoulder.

The few inches separating Cade and Cammie is the most distance I’ve seen between the newlyweds since they got married a few months ago. Then she resettles against his side as if she couldn’t take it, and says, “Hi.”

I get a sympathetic grin from Tealey, but Rad and Cade exchange a guilty glance like they were busted speaking of the devil. The devil being me—the last of the trio to still be single. I ask, “What?”

“Nothing,” they practically all reply in unison, and then start busying themselves by quickly turning back to face the city.

They were definitely talking about me. I can’t say I like that kind of limelight, but I can’t stop them from gossiping.

It’s what friends do. We don’t say anything hurtful, but we’re all embedded in each other’s business and have been since the six of us became friends at NYU.

It feels a little different tonight, matching my mood.

I can’t tell if I’m feeling lonely or left out.

I scratch the back of my neck to ease the discomfort before I close the door behind me and step into the line of fire.

“Just fucking say it.” I walk to the corner and lean against the railing to face them.

The balcony is big for New York City, even for this large apartment on the Upper East Side.

But I’m still within glaring distance of them.

Tealey steps around Rad as if she needs to protect him. “We were just talking about how beautiful Marlow looks this evening.”

I narrow my eyes, searching for the lie, but Tealey hates lies more than anything, so I know I can trust her. I lighten up and turn to face the cityscape. “She does,” I say indifferently, though I feel the opposite inside. Marlow looks fucking stunning. Irresistible.

I kept myself from checking to see if the fucker returned to touch or talk to her once I left. We’re not a couple. She’s not mine to claim in any way, so why am I having a change of heart these days?

Tealey leans on the ledge next to me, keeping her eyes on the avenue below. “It’s almost midnight.”

I’m onto her. Grinning, I glance over. “It is.” I can’t make anything happen with Marlow, though, if Marlow doesn’t want it.

Since the moment our friends found out we were, let’s just say .

. . benefitting each other, they’ve tried their best to give us space.

But on the rare occasion, like tonight, the hope in Tealey’s eyes gives her inner thoughts away.

I say, “Let’s cut to the chase. I don’t know if she’s coming, and although we came here together, we’re clearly not together.”

Tealey sighs. “So nothing’s changed with that?”

“No. We’re complicated, to say the least.”

“I know, but I know as well as you do that sometimes Marlow needs a little nudge in the right direction.”