Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Willow was young and beautiful, poised and fashionable. She was currently a successful social media persona, posting stories about celebrity fashion faux pas with humor and an air-headed quality I hadn’t yet determined was real or not. She also seemed to be on the hunt for a husband, which was one of the reasons I’d been careful to set expectations with her that I was only interested in casual.
If I invited her to my place in Italy while I hosted some of the world’s most powerful people, my warnings to her wouldn’t matter. She—and most likely others—would see it as a sign of more serious intentions than I had. Not to mention, the Paxis Council would be nervous about having an influencer there, despite the NDA everyone was required to sign.
But the alternative was a couple of stressful weeks without sex, a situation I was unwilling to consider again.
As they so often did when I thought about sex, my thoughts swung back to the man I’d met several years ago. The one who’d made me question everything about my own sexual identity.
After losing Jett for the second time, I’d returned to the city, eventually finding myself at a gay bar in the Village. Just research, I’d told myself. To understand what I’d felt with Jett. Or, hell, maybe in an attempt to find him.
He had an incredible fucking mouth.
I’d nursed one drink and watched. Men kissing, touching, laughing. I’d waited to feel something—attraction, curiosity, disgust, anything.
I’d felt nothing. Yes, the men had been attractive. Objectively so. But I hadn’t wanted to take any of them home with me.
It hadn’t been any random man I’d wanted. It had been him. Just him.
Which was somehow worse, especially considering the man didn’t seem to fucking exist, despite my best efforts to locate him.
“Locke said he’d take me, didn’t you, babe?” she asked.
My stomach dropped. “Excuse me, I was distracted by something. What are we talking about?”
Her laugh was easy as she leaned a shoulder into my arm. “The Sky Bar, silly! It’s going to be amazing with the city lights and the clear sky tonight.” She grinned. “And imagine the content I can get for my accounts. The fashion disasters at an event like that will be epic, am I right?”
The woman next to her shared the laugh, and they returned to celebrity gossip.
No. No fucking way could I take someone like her to Italy.
It was a nonstarter.
I’d have to find someone else.
Three days later, that someone quite literally fell into my lap.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” a man said as someone’s suitcase tumbled from the overhead bin and knocked him into my personal space.
This is what I get for flying commercial.
I reached out to help him stand back up, muttering, “It’s fine,” even though it wasn’t. The tiny bottle of airline water had splashed onto my shirt and chin as I’d been mid-sip, and my phone had tumbled from my lap to the floor.
When the man got to his feet, he turned to apologize, and the words froze on his lips. “Locke?”
My eyes met familiar denim blue, a bow-shaped mouth I hadn’t seen in three years outside of my own memories. “Jett?”
The crowd of passengers surged behind him, mumbling their annoyance that he was holding everyone up. I quickly moved to the empty seat by the window and gestured for him to take my now-empty seat to get out of the aisle.
He reached down to grab my phone before handing it to me and following me into the little row. Then he fell into the seat beside me and blew out a breath. “Hey. Hi. Ah… what… where are you traveling?”
My heart thundered. I took a moment to study him. To drink in the look of him. He was healthy and well, sun-kissed despite the time of year. Filled out and muscular again. Seemingly recovered from Amsterdam.
I cleared my throat. “Home. New York. I was in Atlanta for a meeting. You?”
“Oh, er…” He seemed flustered. “Same. I mean, not home, but flying to the city. New York.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling at the absurdity of the words. “Mm.”
He blew out a breath. “I’m staying with a friend. Hoping to find work. You know, same old.”
I didn’t want to appear overly interested, but I was too curious to stay quiet. “Where’ve you been living?”
Jett’s cheeks flushed as he glanced back at the line of passengers moving slowly past first class. “Oh, you know, just here and there. I stayed near my family for a little while and then came to Atlanta for a job. Was down in Miami a bit.” He shrugged. “I go where I find work.”
“What kind of work have you found?”
Before he could answer, a woman stopped and eyed me. “I think you’re in my seat.”
Jett stood and smiled. “He definitely is, and I’m in his. Let me get out of your way.”