A Perfect SEAL

Because the truth is, I am. I’m high, and I want to come down, but the only way to do that is to convince myself that Jake Ferry is a worthless excuse for a human being who will drop me like a hot rock as soon as he’s gotten his dick wet.

So why can’t I do that? It’s frustrating me. I’m a logical person. I shouldn’t allow my head to be turned by some playboy. But there’s something about him, and it’s more than the perfect looks. He understands what I’m talking about, what I mean when I talk about George, about the company. We’re both up against things that we don’t know if we can overcome. Although I will, I promise, I will fight.

But anyway, back to work.

The amuse-bouches are a hit, and once they’ve made it around the lounge I’m finally able to be distracted enough by the praise and congratulatory cheers about the announcement. Lacey and I mingle among the guests and after an hour of being excited about the hot sauce line I manage to forget about Jake entirely.

Now all I have to do is keep forgetting about him. Easy.

Once the place closes down, Chester pours shots. Technically against the rules and that whiskey isn’t cheap, but we do have reason to celebrate. Hell, even Gloria gets a shot.

“To Janie Hall,” Chester cheers, raising a glass to me. “Our fearless leader.”

“And to Lacey Ming,” I add, cheering my chef, “the brilliant talent behind this place, without whom I’d be forced to cook and we’d all be out of a job.”

We laugh together, and take our shots, and then it’s back to work. Closing duties are assigned, but the benefit of being the boss is no longer having to mop floors or wash tables. There has to be a perk to balance out the stress, right?

I stop cold — or, more honestly, hot — when I walk out of the building. Leaning against a yellow Lamborghini is my drug, and in a second I’m high again. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Jake says, sheepish, “I thought we had a good time yesterday and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since… , so, I decided to gamble.”

“Did you, now?” I wonder. “The stakes?”

“Up the coast,” Jake says, approaching slowly, “there is this little cove. Something about the shape of it makes the water unbelievably calm. Clear blue, right to the bottom. Tall, gorgeous cliffs all around it, perfect white sand… and a little house right on the beach. Isolated and quiet, the kind of place that just sucks the stress right out of you.”

We’re almost nose to nose, and I realize too late that his fingers are gently caressing my arm.

“What do you say?” he whispers, his words warm on my lips. “I can have you back by dinner tomorrow.”

“How far is this place?” I ask, clinging to something like pragmatism.

Jake chuckles. “By Lamborghini? Not far.” He brushes my lips with his. “We can go as fast as you want…”

“You’d like that,” I manage to say. His lips are magnetic; mine feel drawn to his and whatever part

of my brain is supposed to stop that sort of thing is shorted out.

“So would you,” Jake says. “I promise.”

I believe him. Or at least, my body does — that familiar heat between my legs spreads to my skin quickly, and suddenly the feeling of his fingers on my bare arm is electric.

Jake is just here for conquest. I know that. But honestly… maybe it doesn’t have to be just him. Don’t I deserve a little fun? After all the work I’ve put into this place? It’s just one night. After that I’ll probably never see Jake again, and you know what? I could be okay with that.

“All right,” I tell him, leaning in to bite his lip. “Take me.”

I have to admit — there’s something strangely hot about driving a hundred and ten miles an hour on a winding road. The Lamborghini’s engine is a smooth vibration that courses through the car seat and into me.

Talking is pointless; neither of us could hear anything over the roar of the engine, so the music is up and loud and if we go any faster I might actually somehow be able to outpace all my problems, all my worries.

Jake glances at me, and his lips move.

“What?” I shout at him.

He grins, and reaches over to my seat. His fingers slide my dress up my thighs, and he tugs at the exposed strap of my panties. In another second, he’s under them, and then I gasp as he finds me wet and sensitive from the rumbling of the car.

Whatever he’s up to down there, pinching and rubbing and stroking in slow circles, it’s better action than I give myself and I melt around it. Jake isn’t even looking — he’s got his eyes on the road — but his smile is smug, and when I moan loud enough to be heard over the radio and the engine he laughs and his fingers work that much harder and God I’m close…

As if he’s reading my mind — or at least some part of me — he eases off, exploring my lower lips with gentle, light caresses that feel incredible but are just shy of what I really need.