On My Knees (Stark International Trilogy 2)

Since I have energy to burn, I take the stairs, stopping at my cubicle on twenty-seven to grab up my notes. Then I hurry down the last flight, my heels clattering on the concrete stairs, and slam, breathless, through the stairwell door.

I lean against the wall as I catch my breath. The stairs exit only a few yards from Jackson’s office area, and I have an excellent view of him through the glass walls. He’s sitting on a stool in front of the very same drafting table on which he’d fucked me so thoroughly. And though his head is bent, I can see enough of his face to catch his expression and it is both intent and rapturous.

He’s in his element, and that simple realization makes me so giddy that I have half a mind to race back upstairs and wrap Damien in a hug.

I manage to restrain myself. Instead, I take a single step toward Jackson.

Despite his intense concentration, the moment I move, he inclines his head, as if sensing my presence. He doesn’t look up, though, and so I continue on.

“I’m back,” he says as I reach his doorway, still without looking in my direction.

My smile blooms wide. “Yes, you are.”

He pushes away from the desk, the stool rolling easily on the concrete floor. As he does, I rush to him, practically flying into his open arms. I drop my notes on his desk then straddle him, and he spins us in the chair. When it stops, my back is pressed against the table, and I’m more than a little light-headed. But whether that’s from dizziness or from being in Jackson’s arms, I don’t know.

“You’re back.” My whisper echoes his earlier words, and I press my hand gently to his crotch. “And I know just what you want to do now.”

His brow lifts. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm.” I bend forward so that my lips brush his ear as I murmur, very low and very seductively, “You want to work.”

My other hand is on his back for balance, and the vibrations from his laughter roll through me. “Sweetheart, you do know how to turn a man on.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Did you see the folder I tossed on your desk?” I lean back so that I can see him, then thrust out my tits and slowly bite my lower lip in my best imitation of an X-rated movie star. “Building notes and specs,” I say huskily. “It’s like porn for architects.”

His expression doesn’t change, but I see the mirth in his eyes.

I reach back and grab the folder, then wave it slowly through the air. “Come on, baby. You know you want it.”

“Oh, I want it all right.” With one quick gesture, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close, leaving me gasping. “But forget the porn,” he says. “What I want is you. This project. This moment. And thank god I’ve got everything I want right here in front of me.”

My heart flutters in my chest. “Me, too,” I say as he pulls me down for a long, slow kiss. And though I mean the words with all my heart, I can’t help but fear what tomorrow might bring.

That’s okay, though. Because he’s right; this moment is perfect.

And right now, that is enough.

thirteen

I’m kicked back in Jackson’s Porsche, eyes closed, jamming to the latest release from Dominion Gate, a Finnish heavy metal band that Jackson says he wants to hear live when they tour in a couple of weeks. They’re not bad, especially when they’re turned up so loud that you’re forced to move with the music because it’s reached inside your body and grabbed hold of all your major organs.

When my phone rings, I don’t actually hear it—because how could I?—and it’s a wonder I even feel it vibrate, considering the way the car is shaking from the bass. But I’d taken it out to check the wiki on the band, and I’ve been holding it in my lap, and when my palm vibrates more than the rest of me, I realize that I’ve got a call.

I glance at the phone, see that it’s Cass, and gesture for Jackson to dial back the music.

He does, but he punctuates the action with a grin and a mouthed wimp.

I roll my eyes and hit the speaker.

“Fucking awesome,” she says, skipping preliminaries like “hello” or “how’s it going?”

“I’ll assume that means you got my message?” I’d texted her before we left the office about Jackson’s glorious reinstatement.

“Not only did I get it, I have performed a ritual sacrifice to the gods.”

“How very energetic of you.”

“Naturally, the gods have showered their wisdom upon us and revealed their grand celebratory plan to me.”

“Um.”

I catch Jackson’s eye. I can’t tell if he’s amused or if he fears that my best friend is a crazy person. “I’m not entirely sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” I admit.