Page 592 of Summer Heat
WEDNESDAY
(Time: 1:27 a.m.)
I’m losing my goddamn mind.
I shouldn’t have fucking touched her in the trailer. Jesus, what the hell was I thinking? I need to apologize. Fucking hit my knees to the ground and beg for her forgiveness.
Only, I don’t want to apologize.
I don’t want to have to say that I regret rubbing her little clit and making her come so hard I nearly came in my pants just watching her. Because I don’t regret it. The very thought makes me pissed as hell. And that’s the most messed up part about all of this.
I fucking loved watching her come, feeling her come. I replayed it in my mind a thousand more times throughout the day. Even now as I’m standing here outside her loft rehearsing my apology in my head, I’m hard as hell.
But the fact that I can’t stop wanting her, craving her is my problem, not hers. I could’ve ruined her career. If we’d gotten caught in that trailer, absolutely nothing would’ve happened to me. Yes, I’m her boss on this project but she’s an independent contractor, not an employee. There’s no HR issue. No one would say shit about me.
But they would damn sure talk shit about her.
I’ve grown up in the trades. I know how fucking hard it is for any woman to succeed, let alone thrive to the level of success she’s achieved. The absolute last thing she needs is dumbass gossip that she’s sleeping with a client. She’d get labeled as a slut and lose the respect of her colleagues and her crew.
And that thought is enough to make me want to punch through a wall.
This is all my fault. I unclench my fist and flatten my palm against her door.
It opens without me even knocking.
Goddamnit, she’s so fucking beautiful.
“Jas—” She stops herself. “Um…is everything okay? Security just called to tell me to check that my doorbell is working because you’ve been standing out here for the past few minutes.”
I sigh. Of course they did. I make a mental note to give them all bonuses for being so invasively observant. “Sorry, they probably thought it was some sort of landlord emergency. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Though she’s rubbing her arms nervously, she lets loose a crooked little smile at that. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”
I feel my lips twitch in amusement as well. “Right. Stupid question.”
She chews on her lower lip. “Do you…want to come in for a drink or something?” She glances over to the old grandfather clock behind her to check the time. “Guess it’s probably too late for you for coffee. But I do have beer.”
Bad idea, Steele. Don’t do it. Say what you need to say out here in the hallway. Better yet, send her a nice email. That way, you won’t accidentally trip and end up with your hand down her pants again.
“Sure, a beer sounds great.”
Way to go with the self-control, asshole.
Once in the door, I stop her before she heads into the kitchen. “Actually, forget the beer. I just came here to apologize again for what happened in the trailer.”
Her mouth turns down at the corners. “Stop apologizing, Jason. Really, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“Yes, there is. We both know how bad that could’ve ended for you if someone caught us.”
She drops down onto her sofa with a sigh. “I know I shouldn’t care about something as trivial as gossip, but I do.”
Against my better judgement, I join her on the couch. “Anyone would, Summer. Our reputations are our livelihood.”
A soft smile graces her lips. “My grandfather used to say that all the time.”
“Not surprising. Never got the chance to meet the man, but he had a helluva reputation.”
“That he did,” she says proudly before the light in her eyes dim a bit. “That’s the only reason so many folks took a chance on me when I was starting out. Because I was the little granddaughter of John Davis. If not for him, there’s no way I’d even be where I am right now in this business. I’m practically the poster girl for nepotism.”
