Page 57 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
I lower my face, sure my cheeks are red. I drag a hand over the back of my neck. “Sorry.”
“Sorry? Don’t be sorry. Be fucking glad you’re getting laid. I’m only shocked that it took you two this long.”
I laugh, wishing I knew what to say other than the obvious. “I appreciate this.”
Maybe the obvious is enough.
Cruz claps me on the shoulder. “What did you think? That I was going to report you to headquarters?” He gestures to the door. “He’s the boss. Just make him happy, because when he’s happy, we’re all happy. Okay? That’s literally all that matters. Can you do that?”
I don’t kiss and tell. I don’t screw and tell. So I’m not going to tell him how happy I make the boss.
All I do is give him one syllable. “Yes.”
Cruz continues with a warning. “Also, don’t fuck up.”
“I won’t,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure what I’ve agreed to. What I’m not supposed to mess up. But I’ve made it through this awkward moment, and I’m ready to return to the scene of the crime.
Cruz holds up a finger. “Wait. I have one request.”
“Name it,” I say, and really, at this point, I would do just about anything for him.
His lips curve up into a grin, wry and cheeky. “Do you think you could order one of those pizzas for me? Like, with the donuts?”
Slowly, I raise my middle finger.
He laughs. “Seriously, man. I’m starving, and I didn’t get any dinner. Could you just have him order something for me and send it right here?”
“What do you want?”
“I like pizza with sausage and pepperoni.”
I smirk. “Aw, that’s cute. I didn’t know you played on my team.”
“Just the pizza, man. Just the pizza.”
I head inside to order the man the pizza he deserves.23StoneMy skin prickles, and my hands are clammy.
I haven’t felt this way since I’ve been around my father. Since he berated me as a teen. Since he said some serious shit to me before I left for college.
Any idea how hard it is to make a living with a guitar? Wait. Let me ask again. Any idea how foolish it is to think you’ll be the one in a million who makes a living with it? Are you a fool? Did I raise a fool?
I cringe, his voice raw and harsh in my ear, like he’s saying it now.
Because I feel like a fool right this second, wanting all this stuff I can’t have.
Wanting my bodyguard.
I pace through my hotel room, wishing I knew what the hell was going on out there with Cruz and Jackson.
I have no clue though.
And also . . . I’m still in the buff.
I head to the closet, grab a pair of lounge pants, and pull them on. There. Now I don’t feel so damn vulnerable. But the clothes aren’t doing anything to jimmy the truckload of nerves parked on my chest.
Why the hell am I this twisted up?
What’s the worst that can happen? Jackson comes back in and says, “Game over”?
That was always in the cards.
Trouble is, my chest seizes at that horrid thought.
I set my hand on my sternum, rubbing it, like I can ease away this ball of nerves.
Because, hell, I’ve never felt anything like this, the way I ache at the possibility that we might not touch again. I’ve never felt anything like the way he touches me. The way he talks to me before, during, and after sex is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Pretty sure he’s the only person I’ve slept with who doesn’t make me feel like he or she is sleeping with a rock star. He’s the only person who makes me feel like I’m simply a man.
Not a prize. Not a notch on the “I banged a rocker” belt. He makes me feel like . . . me.
I swallow roughly. I need to get my act together, slow down these crazy thoughts. I head to the bar, pour some whiskey, and knock back half a glass, needing the burn.
I drum my fingers on the bar.
What is taking so long?
Fine, it’s only been a few minutes. Still. I want my man.
I mean, I want Jackson.
The door snicks open. I rub my thumb and forefinger together, hoping it went well.
Jackson strides in and shuts the door, his gaze roving over me. A grin curves his lips, and just like that, relief flows through me.
“Are you staying the night with me?” I ask.
He arches a playful brow. “It’s going to cost you a pizza. That’s all the man wants.”
“Some men are easy like that, evidently.” I head to the couch and flop down on it like I’ve tossed the weight of the world off my shoulders. And I have.
Because I get this man for the rest of the night. Maybe for longer. Maybe a week.
