Page 78 of The Good Girl Effect

Today was a testament to the truth. Jack and I can’t have a physical relationship and keep things professional. We can’t separate our work from our feelings. We can’t have both.

Because at the end of the day, I know that if I had to choose between having him or having her, I have to choose her. Every time. And I know he feels the same.

Rule #26: Open the door.

Camille

Imust cry myself to sleep because I wake in the middle of the night feeling drained, physically and emotionally. Lying in the silent, pitch-black room, it dawns on me that I am falling for Jack St. Claire. I don’t know when it happened or what I’m supposed to do with this information now, but all I know is that I am on my way to loving him.

And I had no idea love was supposed to hurt so much.

Sitting up, I look at the clock and see it’s nearly three in the morning. I climb from my bed, intending to go to the desk to find a piece of paper and a pen, when I hear a creak in the hallway.

I freeze, my hand halfway to the desktop.

Everything inside me feels too raw to know how to handle this. If he is out there, then what? Is he just creeping into my hallway to see me? To talk to me?

If we can’t keep doing our sessions, then surely we can’t keep doingthiseither, right? Whateverthisis.

I take a step toward the door. It’s closed, so I press my hand to the surface, knowing he’s on the other side. Can he feel me standing here? Does he know how much I want to reach for him?

We didn’t ask for this. I only took a job, not intending for the chemistry between us to be so visceral. Who are we to fight against it?

I hear another creak, this one even closer. Then something soft scratching against the door, and I know he’s there, likely suffering the same agony I am.

For a while, we both wait. And in each passing second, I realize that I have a decision to make. Open this door or keep it closed. If I open it, I welcome in more confusion but also indulgence and maybe…love. If I keep it closed, then it could—and probably should—stay closed forever.

When my hand lands on the doorknob, I know there is no choice. Not really. Not where he is involved.

Twisting it, I pull the door open and stare into the dark hallway at the man lurking outside. He looks into my eyes with intensity, and somehow, I know he feels the same way I do.

“I never hated you,” he says, and it’s almost silent. Then he takes a step toward me so I can feel the warmth of his body.

“I want to believe that.” We are standing at the precipice of something grand, ready to jump.

His hand lifts to touch my face the same way it did that first night I found him here.

“We really shouldn’t do this,” he whispers so quietly the words drift off into the darkness.

“I don’t care,” I reply.

“Neither do I.”

With that, he wraps a hand around the back of my neck and drags me forcefully into his arms. We don’t utter a word before our lips crash together.

His kiss tastes familiar, although it’s the first one. Our tongues collide in harmony like we’ve been doing this for a hundred years. I squeeze my arms around him tighter as I kiss him deeper, trying to get every single morsel of him, his nearness, his touch.

As he lifts me from the floor, I wrap my legs around his waist, and he devours me with both his lips and his hands.

Stumbling into my room, he closes the door behind him until we’re alone.

When he groans against my mouth, I tighten my legs around his waist, and heat blossoms in my core for him.

He has one hand on my ass, squeezing it hungrily as the other slides up my spine to hold the back of my head as leverage to kiss me even deeper.

We are a storm, a violent force of nature that can’t be stopped.

It’s only seconds after he drops me onto the bed, draping his body over mine, that we start tearing each other’s clothes off. He only breaks the kiss long enough to pull my shirt over my head. I do the same with his, letting my hands skate their way down his chest, over his pecs and abs and then back to his face to bring his mouth back to mine.