“We don’t have to have sex,” I agree to the stipulation, and in a pause, I add, “I hope after a while you’ll realize you can trust me.”
Oscar brushes his hand over his unshaven jaw, his gaze drawing hot tracks down my body. “I might be open to other things.”
Other things. “Are you talking hand jobs? Blow jobs?”
He’s about to answer when his phone lets out an angry buzz beside me. I stand off the table, and my eyes peel to Oscar as he grabs the cell and clicks into a text.
“Charlie?” I ask.
He nods. “He’s leaving for New York, and I need to pick him up before he takes off in an Uber.”
“He told you where he’s going?” I say, surprised.
“He does that sometimes.” Oscar gathers a couple books. Those were his hardbacks. “Charlie likes to be inconsistent.” His eyes fall to my camera still strapped around my body. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “It is my job to come.”
His nose flares, latching onto the innuendo, and then he laughs while fitting a comms earpiece in his ear. “This is gonna be fun. Just try not to come too hard on me, Long Beach. I’ve still got a Cobalt to protect.”
“What a coincidence, I’ve got a Cobalt to film.” I lift up my camera.
He opens his mouth, but his phone buzzes again. “Fuck,” he curses at the text, seriousness overtaking him. “We’ve got to go.”
I animate fast and follow him out of the penthouse and to the elevator. The unanswered question about “other things” hangs in the air.
Bad timing—I have a feeling Oscar and I might be magnetically attached to it.
15
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
We wait in the foyer for the elevator, and I could laugh at myself.
First off, Grindr. I offered to make Jack a dating profile, and immediately, I thought about how I’d need to upload the absolute ugliest ass photos of Jack Highland so no one would tap on him. But let’s be honest, an unattractive pic of this guy doesn’t exist.
And he’s not straight.
He’s been questioning his sexuality.
He’s been thinking about kissing me. Blowing me. Me blowing him. He likes me.
Holy shit.
I smother a smile. Not going to lie, I feel vindicated. I’ve been going out of my mind thinking Jack’s been coming onto me, and every time I confronted it, the door would slam in my face. It’s nice to know that I was right all along.
While we’re waiting, I grip my two hardbacks in one hand, and I reclip my radio to the waistband of my gym shorts with the other. I check him out on my left.
Jack keeps running his fingers through his dark, dark brown hair. Six-four and ripped, he’s breathing like he’s winded, like we’ve already fucked on the floor.
Take it easy with this one, Oliveira.
I grin more.
Jack catches sight of my curving mouth. “What’d I miss?”
“Just thinking about how excited you are.” I adjust the volume on comms.
His smile grows, eyes flitting to the ticking numbers outside the elevator as it comes to pick us up for a descent. Still in the foyer. Still lingering with a swarm of quickly amassing fervor and warmth. Jack stares back at me with a hotter look. “How excited are you?”
“I’m a solid 12.” I hold his gaze. “You?”
“Rock-hard 12.” He coasts into the innuendo but breathes a shallow breath, then shifts, and an aroused knot rises in my throat.
I could give myself fifteen gold medals for just laying down groundwork for no sex. I feel my age. Thirty-fucking-two. I realize he’s younger than me, and for the first time, I’m in this responsible position that I’ve never been in before. Maybe this is why I’ve always dated people older than me.
The elevator finally reaches us. We saunter into the empty space that suffocates with our body heat, and I stand against the wall. He stands right next to me, and we stare ahead at the elevator doors, watching them slowly, slowly glide closed.
Even with thick tension and confession of feelings, I expect nothing to happen.
Jack glances over at me. I lock eyes with the pretty boy, and he leaves his spot, shortening the space between us. Oxygen is imprisoned in my lungs.
Nothing is going to happen.
Jack faces me.
Nothing is happening.
He braces a forearm to the elevator wall beside my jawline. His chest lifts and lowers in coveting breath against my taut body.
Nothing…is…
Our mouths are achingly close, his knee edges near my groin as he leans in, and our eyes peruse each other so fucking quickly, I can hardly keep up with Highland.
He’s in pursuit of me with rapt fervor. “Ask me again.”
Nothing is happening?
Damn am I wrong.
Heart rate spiked, my gaze consumes him, seeing if this is real.
Jack presses closer, uneasiness flashing in his eyes, like maybe I’ll reject him. “Oscar…”
I hesitate to touch him, my muscles on fire. “Don’t fuck with me—”