A Co-Worker's Crush Page 4

  Her entire body stiffens and a long, satisfying moan slips past her lips. A moan I want to hear with my cock in her mouth. Just the thought makes me harder inside her.

  “Hold on, baby, because it’s about to get rough.”

  I sit back on my knees, grab her hips, and push and pull her onto my cock until I’m the one stilling and pumping into her as my orgasm overwhelms me to the point that I see stars. We both collapse on the bed, a sweaty mess.

  “Damn.” I roll off the bed and open the closet before finding the bathroom that attaches to her room and the hallway.

  When I return, she’s still sprawled on the bed. I walk slowly as if I’m tired when I’m really committing her body to memory because I’m fairly sure this was a reckless, emotional, one-time thing between us. But hell, if she’d be up for a friends with benefits situation, I wouldn’t object. She’s an amazing lay.

  I study the tattoos covering her back, all perfectly placed so everything melds together seamlessly. In my experience, women think about their tattoos a lot more than guys. Guys can decide in a night while women dissect what they want and where they want it, sometimes for what seems like a lifetime.

  I pick up my boxers and I’m stepping into them when she turns to face me, her hands tucked under her head. Her confidence in her body is so damn sexy. I hate when someone gets shy after I have sex with them, wanting lights off or hiding under the blankets. But the woman in front of me is comfortable and confident in her body. That’s why I’d love to ask Frankie the one question I never will—how she ever allowed her ex to treat her the way he did.

  “Leaving?” she asks.

  “Looking for round two? I know, I should come with a warning label.” I wink.

  Her eyebrows raise. “Man, you do think highly of yourself.” She turns away and rolls off the bed, grabs a robe from the chair, and wraps herself in silk.

  “You know I’m joking most of the time.” She does, right?

  She shrugs as though she couldn’t care either way. “Where do we go from here?”

  As she asks the question, the door of the apartment slams open into the chain lock she put in place. Both of our eyes widen.

  “Frankie? I hope you’re in there,” a woman’s voice calls. Sandy.

  Frankie rushes off the bed and screams out to the hallway, “Yep, sorry, I was just being careful. Hold on, I’m just getting out of the bath.”

  Then she’s back in the room with me as I try to get dressed as fast as possible, but she’s throwing my clothes at me which makes it harder. She jogs down the hall as Sandy tries to open the door again. Frankie shoves it shut.

  “Frankie?” Sandy asks from the other side of the door.

  “Hold on.” She throws one of my shoes at me. I fumble, but I catch it.

  “Where am I going to go?” I whisper-shout.

  “Frankie, I heard someone else. Are you alone?” The door opens again and slams into the chain.

  “That’s just the television,” Frankie yells back.

  “Sweetie, just open the door, I’m getting concerned and Jolie doesn’t feel well.”

  Once I’m finally dressed, I hold up my hands at Frankie since she’s running this show. She runs to the balcony door and bites her lip. I look out the door and shake my head. She’s insane. I’m not going down the fire escape.

  She holds her hands together in a prayer pose. “Please? I can’t give Jolie the wrong idea.”

  “Which would be?” I whisper.

  “That you and I enjoy spending time together without her.”

  Talk about a knife to the heart. I just gave this woman a very satisfying orgasm and she’s ashamed of me?

  I shake my head and step out onto the small balcony. Just as I turn around, she clicks the door shut and slides the drapes shut.

  Damn, do I feel used and unwanted.

  “Frankie, are you sure you’re alone?” I hear Sandy ask.

  I lower the fire escape ladder and crawl down it before we get caught. Truth is, if I got caught, it would only be a matter of time before it traveled back to our group of friends and I’m not interested in getting lectured by Dylan any time soon.

  I put on the T-shirt my roommate, Kamea, designed and printed for me. I fucking love it. It’s the perfect icebreaker to piss off Frankie since we haven’t seen each other since I scaled down her fire escape like Spiderman.

  I walk out of my room sporting the black T-shirt with the lettering “Jax Inked Me and I Loved It.”

  My other roommate, Knox, turns to his girlfriend and raises his eyebrows in accusation since she designed it for me. Yeah, I live with a couple.

  “Frankie is going to kick your ass,” Knox says.

  I laugh. “That’s the point.” I grab my jacket off the hook on the back of the door and slip it on before picking up the container with the rest of the T-shirts in it.

  “Hold up,” Knox says.

  I stop at the door.

  “Tell her to accept my gift. That I’m wooing her.” He nods in Kamea’s direction.

  I place down the container of shirts and put my hand on her shoulder. “He’s wooing you. Not trying to own you.”

  “I’ve never thought he wanted to own me,” she says. “Saving is more like it.”

  “I’m not trying to save you. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m helping you. Think of it as an early Christmas gift.” Knox wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her toward him. “You have to let me do nice things for you.”

  “Not buy products for my company.” Her forehead hits his chest.

  I really don’t want to be part of this. This is the downside of living with a couple. “I’m out.” I pick the box of T-shirts back up. “Gonna show Seth first.”

  I laugh while leaving the apartment. I walk down the hall and knock on Seth’s door. Evan, his girlfriend, tells me to come in.

  One look at my shirt and Seth jumps up from the couch. “Has she seen it yet?”

  I shake my head and open the door of their apartment to leave, too eager to wait for Frankie to see it.

  “Let’s go then,” Seth says, joining me.

  The three of us walk out into the hall as Kamea and Knox are leaving for their date.

  “I’m gonna record this because it’s gonna go viral.” Seth pulls out his phone.

  We all climb onto the elevator, but when the doors open in the lobby, Knox’s mom is waiting.

  “Mom?” Knox asks.

  “Hey, Mama Whelan. I got something for you.” Since this woman practically raised me, I kiss her cheek before setting down my plastic container to give her one of the T-shirts.

  She reads it and beams like I knew she would. “I’ll be proud to wear this.”

  “Um. no.” Knox snatches it and tosses it back into the container.

  “That’s not nice. I’m proud to wear something Kamea designed that advertises Jax.” She grabs it again before I shut the container. “You look very beautiful,” she says to Kamea.

  “Thank you, Peggy. Knox is taking me on a date.” Kamea slides her arm through his.

  “Why are you here?” Knox asks his mom.

  “I have a letter. Jolie’s.” She digs inside her purse and holds it up. “I’m sure Frankie would want to know what Jolie asked Santa for, and I forgot to pass it on at the shelter that night. When you were younger, you’d change your mind the day before and I’d end up chasing the item down any way I could, so you’d believe in Santa.” She looks at Kamea. “Glad those days are over.”

  “Come with me. I’m showing off my shirts to Frankie,” I say.

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  Oh, not so nice, Mama Whelan.

  “Yeah, Frankie’s going to kick him in the balls,” Seth adds, his phone poised and ready.

  “Well, let’s go see the show before we head out,” Kamea says.

  Knox looks annoyed, but he shrugs. “Great idea.”

  We walk into Ink Envy. I shouldn’t be this excited, but I’ll admit, I was worried what it would be like for
Frankie and me now that we’ve seen each other naked. This will cast aside any weirdness.

  Frankie is behind the counter, her phone out in front of her. She glances up briefly and her cheeks turn pink when she makes eye contact with me.

  Oh, don’t you worry, I have the perfect distraction for us, Spark Plug.

  Dylan’s in the back, presumably tattooing someone, and Rian is up front with Blanca and Ethan. Sierra went to Sandsal with Adrian for some family function, so they aren’t here.

  I don’t waste any time, opening the container, grabbing a shirt, and swinging it around my finger. “Who wants one?”

  Frankie rolls her eyes. “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Oh, come on. Sit in my chair and you get one of these for free.” I point at my T-shirt.

  Seth is giddy with anticipation, his phone recording the whole thing. Knox groans and shakes his head. Typical cop reaction.

  Frankie’s eyes narrow as she reads. “Fucking hell, I’m quitting if you hand out those damn things.”

  Surprisingly, she doesn’t say much else. Huh.

  “Frankie.” Knox’s mom heads over to her, interrupting my big moment. “Jolie left this letter for Santa with me that day at the shelter.” She hands her Jolie’s letter.

  Seth lowers the phone, just as let down as I am that my T-shirt didn’t earn a better reaction from Frankie.

  “Thanks so much. She told me she wrote Santa and gave it to Knox’s mommy because she knows Santa. She won’t tell me what she wrote and refused to write another letter because she said that he already knows what she wants.”

  Everyone laughs. That little girl is brilliant.

  Frankie opens the envelope and pulls out the letter with a drawing. She reads it silently then narrows her eyes and reads it again. “You have to be shitting me?” She drops it on the table and her face loses some of its color.

  “What? Something expensive? I’ll get it for her,” I say, picking up the letter. I read the letter and drop it as if I’m going to catch something from it.

  My gaze falls to Frankie, and she cocks her jaw and nods.

  “What’s so bad?” Mama Whelan picks it up and reads it. “Ah, so cute.”

  Everyone steps forward.

  Mama Whelan takes it upon herself to read it to everyone. “‘I want Jax to be my daddy, and if he can’t be my daddy, I want a puppy.’”

  My stomach bottoms out. I walk away, silently tucking my container under my station. Holy shit, I thought the little girl was brilliant, but to want me as a dad means she’s delusional.

  Chapter Six

  Frankie

  * * *

  Long after our friends have left Ink Envy, it’s just Lyle, Dylan, Jax, and me. I’m trying to act cool. As though I don’t care that my little girl is asking Santa for something I can’t possibly give her. Even a puppy is off the market because my apartment doesn’t allow dogs.

  Thankfully, my next appointment is a long-term client who might help me decipher what to do—or she would if Jax wasn’t twelve steps away. It’s awkward enough that we slept together. Now he probably thinks I bribed Jolie to write that letter.

  “Don’t forget your shirt. Everyone gets one until I run out.” Jax throws his latest client one of the black shirts he showed off earlier.

  The shirts are a clever idea, but he knew they would piss me off. Why? I had no idea until the other night. Ever since Jax arrived in Cliffton Heights and decided to retire from his traveling showcase tour, I’ve been up a lot of nights, trying to figure out why I loathe him so much.

  Who cares if he sleeps with a lot of women? Then again, I haven’t actually seen him with a ton of women. It’s just that every woman who comes in here flirts with him, and it’s like he’s on autopilot, flirting back. Even if he slept with every woman in Cliffton Heights, what does that have to do with me? He’s single. He’s entitled to do what he wants.

  But when he had me bent forward, ass in the air and his dick inside me, giving me the best orgasm of my life, I finally realized that he’s my kryptonite. He’s my chocolate cake and ice cream. He’s my cigarettes, my vodka, and my crack. He’s my vice. My body buzzes when he gets too near. Now I’m left with the aftershock of reliving the twenty minutes we fucked over and over again as I pleasure myself.

  Which means if I have to move in order to get a puppy for Jolie, I will. Jax won’t be stepping into the spot of my daughter’s faux daddy.

  “I’m heading next door to see Rian. Be back.” Dylan throws on his leather jacket and walks out of Ink Envy, leaving us with a rush of cold air.

  Now if only Jax and Lyle would leave so I can concentrate on the piece for my client who’s about to show up any minute. I finalize some elements to get the stencil made.

  Jax pulls out his journal, leaning back in his chair and sketching who knows what. Another design he can put on Instagram maybe. Although in the last two months, he hasn’t posted nearly as much as he used to. I’d love to ask him why he returned here when he had this huge following on the road. It’s something I would’ve loved to do if I didn’t have Jolie, but she makes staying in Cliffton Heights worth it.

  The door chimes and I’ve never been more grateful to see my client, Hennessy. I stand and my chair rolls back. Jax glances toward the front of the shop.

  “Hey, girl,” Hennessy says and walks right by Lyle to the half wall, letting herself into the back area.

  “Excuse me…” Lyle stops when she holds up her hand at him.

  “She’s good,” I say. I wrap my arms around Hennessy, holding her tight.

  “Whoa, okay. Is there something wrong?” She’s too loud for her own good, so I pull back, slightly embarrassed.

  “No.” I shake my head, but I feel Jax’s eyes on me.

  “Don’t have to stop the loving on behalf of us. Lyle and I can go get some oil for you two to roll around in,” Jax says.

  Hennessy circles around to face Jax. She hasn’t come in since he started here—mostly because she’s a wanderer and has been traveling around Europe for the past year. “Who are you? Dylan two point O?” She glances back at me and her eyebrows shoot up.

  She likes what she sees. Who doesn’t?

  “If that means a hotter version of Dylan, then yes.” Jax doesn’t bother looking away from his sketchpad.

  “Hennessy, this is Jax Owens. Jax—”

  “Holy shit. I know you.” She points at him, eyes wide. “You studied under Choi.”

  He finally looks at her. “I did.”

  “And you work here? With Frankie and Dylan?” I’m sure Hennessy doesn’t mean to imply Ink Envy is beneath his talent, but her tone suggests otherwise. Funny, since she always comes to get her more holistic designs done by me.

  “Dylan and Jax are childhood friends,” I say.

  “Oh, well, that explains it. Are you heading out on the road again soon?”

  I’m trying not to take her interest personally, but her questions make me want to kick her out of my parlor.

  “Nah, but I am doing a pop-up in Vegas next month,” Jax says.

  “You are?” I ask, forehead scrunched. He hasn’t mentioned anything.

  He leans farther back to look around Hennessy at me. “Yeah, wanna come? The only reason I didn’t ask was Jolie.”

  “Yeah, true.” I bite my lip. I can’t very well ask Sandy to watch Jolie for the entire weekend. “Hennessy, are you ready?” I ask, changing the subject without answering Jax.

  She turns slightly toward me, but most of her attention is still on Jax. “Um… yeah.” She finally turns fully toward me.

  I pick up the drawing I was working on. “You said on your ankle, right?”

  “Oh, that’s perfect. Exactly what I had in mind.”

  I begin to grab my stuff.

  Hennessey adds, “But I think I’m going to change it to my inner wrist.”

  “Sure thing, just let me get the stencil done. I’ll be back.”

  I head to the back room and hear Hennessy talking
to Jax about his mentor, Choi. Then she goes on about how Jax really belongs in Los Angeles or, hell, New York City, asking what he’s doing in Cliffton Heights. I never thought Hennessy looked down on me before, but I’m starting to think she does.

  I’m about to exit the prep room when Jax’s big body appears in the doorway.

  “She talks too much.” He steps inside.

  I shouldn’t care that he prefers to be in here with me rather than talk to Hennessy. She’s gorgeous with her strawberry-blonde hair, bright green eyes, and cute figure that hasn’t been through childbirth. Plus, she has one of those personalities that finds common ground with anyone.

  “Sorry, but women are allowed to be seen and heard now.” I move to slide past him, but Jax steps to the side to block me.

  Hennessy is talking to Lyle, asking him a million questions.

  “We need to talk,” Jax says.

  I flick my gaze up to meet his. Funny—he didn’t seem in the mood to talk before. “About?”

  “What happened the other day and Jolie’s letter.”

  I place my hand on his chest. God damn, he’s so firm. “Nah, we’re good. And I’ll handle Jolie.”

  “So we’re cool?”

  His question shouldn’t throw me, but it does. I knew our drunken sex wasn’t leading to anything—not like he was going to fall on his knees and want to date me—but his attitude stings. As for the letter… I’m Jolie’s mother, I’m the one responsible for her.

  “You’re not going to tell her Santa isn’t real, are you?” He slides onto the table, allowing his feet to hang off.

  “No, and don’t worry. It’s really none of your concern.” I move to leave the room.

  “Hold up.”

  “What?” I turn around and he’s staring at his hands in his lap. He has these long fingers and I’ve always admired the art they can create, but for some reason, my brain thinks now is a good time to imagine them inside me. I need help.

  “I didn’t mean for us to… you know. I mean, I just really felt like you needed a drink and someone to talk to. I hope you don’t think I was trying to take advantage of you.”

  A hollow laugh falls out of me. “Relax, Jax, I don’t expect anything from you. It was twenty minutes of my life.”