The Billionaire's Ex-Wife (Jameson Brothers 1)

"I don't remember which one of your friends that is," Sam commented.

Trinity sighed and melted back into the seat. "Of course you don't."

"I'm kidding. I remember Jessica. I also seem to remember she no longer approves of me."

"Got that right." Trinity crossed her arms over her chest and smiled with satisfaction. "I took her in the divorce."

"I'm glad you have such close friends," Sam said seriously. "But now that I have you to myself for the weekend, let's talk about us. If you like, we'll do what we discussed on the flight over and check out the office before we check you into your hotel.”

"Not really the 'us' talk I was hoping to have, but fine." For now, Trinity was content to bask in the sun, and to watch him drive. She couldn't get over just how utterly captivating her brooding old lover looked in these cheerful California conditions. She could swear the extra Vitamin D had already relaxed them both more than the New York rat race ever could, but a thought continued to niggle around in the back of her mind:

Who do you have, Sam?

Surely he had friends. And if not friends, coworkers—right?

If he did, he certainly didn't appear happy at the prospect of seeing them. The grimace on his face an hour later as they strolled into the office lobby broadcast his feelings loud and clear. Thankfully, no one was around to witness the lapse in his usually perfect composure.

Trinity nudged him. "Hey. Why so grumpy all of a sudden? I thought you'd be glad to be home. Getting back has been almost all you can talk about."

"Home?" Sam echoed the word dubiously. "I don't consider any one place home. And even if I did, just look how they rearranged everything while I was gone!" He indicated the lobby with a broad sweep of his hand. Trinity pressed her lips together in an indulgent smile and looked, despite the fact that she had never known the West Coast office to be laid out otherwise. The color scheme screamed feng shui, although she wasn't certain Sam would be familiar with the concept. She reached out to caress a palm plant in passing as they continued on the tour.

"My...general approach to things doesn't always gel with my surroundings here," Sam admitted. "You know me better than anyone. I demand rigidity. Structure. I demand it of myself, and I demand it of those around me. It's less a philosophy and more a requirement."

"And the West Coast loves philosophy," Trinity guessed. "Or so you've told me."

"Exactly."

Despite Sam's best efforts to convert her to his way of thinking, she simply couldn’t enjoy the tour he gave. The offices were bright and airy; almost every room sported an open window, and the revivifying air from the nearby beach wafted in through delicate, translucent curtains. Every hallway was lit with warm, natural light. She couldn't imagine walking into an ad agency on the East Coast that boasted as much charm and character as this one.

Seeing Sam in this new context was almost funny. He looked so stiff, so wholly out of his element, that she couldn't stifle the genuine affection that rose up every time she looked at him. She watched as he tugged on his tie, barely listening to his explanation of New York's superior elevators (and the general West Coast embracing daily steps and stairs). She wanted to raise herself up and kiss the naked patch of skin his rumpled collar exposed, but she tamped down the instinct quickly.

"You know," she began as they looped back around to his office. "I think the lighting might actually contribute to your office's heightened productivity. As much as I would love to credit your methods and your methods alone," she added quickly when Sam raised an eyebrow, "I think we could replicate this sort of atmosphere in New York. We can change the lighting fixtures, for one, and bring in a lot more tropical plants. At the very least I'd love to replace the plastic ones we have in the lobby. They aren't fooling anybody."

"And the standing desks," Sam mentioned. "As silly as they look, they've been proven to be healthier long-term alternatives to sitting in cubicles."

"Yes!" Trinity enthused. "Yes. We've been so focused on onboarding Eddie lately, and going after those high-profile, hard-to-win New York clients, that I think we on the East Coast have momentarily lost sight of how important atmosphere and overall employee health can be to the company."

"People rarely take sick days around here," Sam mentioned as he glanced around. He seemed to be gaining new eyes, and a new perspective, on his surroundings. Trinity grinned, and thought: to hell with it. She raised herself up to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

Before he could think to seize the moment, a knock at the door drew their attention away from one another to a thick-rimmed, deeply scowling face. Trinity thought she had never seen a hipster quite so serious as the twenty-something that leaned in the doorway.

"Sam. You're back. Can we do something about the coffee situation?" The intern rattled the bag of beans he held. "Whoever's in charge of stocking the cabinet should really get on the free trade train already."

Trinity burst out laughing, and quickly covered her mouth when the intern's flat gaze fell to her. "I don't see what's so funny," he said.

"Just something I said

earlier." Sam quickly jumped to her rescue.

"Oh. You tell jokes now?" The intern seemed genuinely surprised. Now Trinity really did laugh, a full-on belt with her head thrown back; after a moment, she heard Sam's reluctant chuckle join in.

"Oh God, Sam," she moaned. Twenty-four hours later in the hotel room and he had her singing a completely different tune.

Sam thrust into her leisurely. Trinity's leg was thrown back over his hip, and his every resolute movement jostled her on the bed. The silky sheets bunched beneath her, as cool and insubstantial as water. Trinity arched her back, relishing the stretch it gave almost as much as she relished Sam's engorged cock sliding into her from behind.

"Why did we never...fuck with the lights on...before?" she gasped. The smack of his hips driving into her was its own aphrodisiac. Every time he thrust a little harder, she would glance down, open-mouthed and halfway startled to see the full length of him driving into her. Watching him bury himself to the hilt every time was doing more for her than she ever would have dreamed.

"Ah!" The startled, breathy noise escaped her as he hit that sweet spot deep inside her. Trinity grabbed a fistful of the sheet and twisted the material around and around her fingers, hissing with pleasure as Sam redoubled his efforts. He grabbed the underside of her thigh and elevated her leg even higher, until her toe was practically pointed at the ceiling. "Oh, Jesus, Sam! Oh, fuck…!"