Page 26 of After We Fall (After We Fall 2)
He shifted my body so I straddled his thigh, pulled my head back and ran his tongue along the strand of pearls at the base of my neck. My clit pulsed. My hands flexed on his back.
Oh my God.
Oh my God, I’m going to have an orgasm. In a barn. With a farmer. Who I met yesterday.
And it’s going to be SO. GOOD.
I whispered his name…and he pushed me away.
As if hearing his name had signaled the end of a scene we were filming, he put his hands on my shoulders and stepped back, separating us.
We stared at each other in silence, both of our chests rising and falling with rapid breaths. His eyes were clouded with something I couldn’t read—I saw desire there, but pain too.
He dropped his hands. “You should go.”
“Jack, please, can’t we—”
“Go!” He roared, putting his hands on his head. “Just get the fuck out of here, Margot! Now!”
Hurt and confused, I turned and ran from the barn across the yard, tears burning my eyes. I cut a wide berth around the house, hoping Pete and Georgia wouldn’t see me, and darted out to the road where I’d parked. When I reached the safety of my car without being seen, I pulled the door shut and collapsed against the steering wheel.
A few tears spilled over, and I wiped at them with my filthy hands, angry I was this upset over a stupid kiss. “Fuck you, Jack Valentini. I was right about you to begin with. You’re nothing but a foul-mannered jerk.”
So what if he was handsome underneath that scruff and dirt? So what if he had a big, broken heart somewhere inside that massive chest? So what if he had a big dick and probably knew how to use it?
He was an asshole.
And he was a client.
But that kiss…that kiss.
Why did the best kiss I’d ever had have to be with him?
“Dammit!” I banged my head against the steering wheel a few times, then pulled myself together.
In my purse, I found a handkerchief and dabbed at my eyes and nose, dismayed by the amount of dirt that came off my face. I stared at it, noticing how the embroidered navy blue M of my monogram was beginning to fray. Tossing the soiled linen aside, I started the car and drove back to the cottage, berating myself the whole way.
What the hell had I been thinking? It didn’t matter what he looked like naked or how he kissed or why he’d pushed me away. I worked for him, and that was a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed.
He probably realized that too. You should be glad he came to his senses before you started flinging your panties around.
Back at the cottage, I took a long, punishingly hot shower, vowing to put Jack out of my mind and concentrate on the work that needed to be done. I had a meeting with Pete and Brad and Georgia tomorrow, and I wanted to go in prepared. More than prepared—if Jack said anything to them about my less-than-professional behavior, I had to counter that with proof I was good at my job.
When I was finally clean, I put on my pajamas, pulled from the freezer a pitiful frozen lasagna that probably came off an assembly line six years ago, and opened a bottle of wine. While I waited for the lasagna to heat up in the microwave, I called Jaime.
“Hey,” she said. “How’s it going?”
“Great.” I forced myself to be cheerful. “I’m fired up. I’ve got lots of ideas.”
“Awesome. Hit me.”
I told her about some of the ideas I had—beyond the obvious ones like creating a logo, revamping the website, and using social media, I described agritourism and why I thought it would work for them. “I’ve done the research and there aren’t that many places around here offering unique experiences…I’m going to talk with Pete and Georgia tomorrow about the possibilities of a small restaurant on site with a chef’s table, cooking classes, weddings and other special events. I think their place could be a real destination.”
“Sounds great. What about the grouch? He gonna go for all that?”
I sighed as I pulled the lasagna from the microwave. It was still frozen in the center but bubbling at the edges. “Nope. Probably none of it.”
“Ugh, what a pain. Can you work around him?”
