So Not Meant To Be

Meant to Be Podcast

Sawyer and Fallon

Kelsey: Welcome, listener, to the Meant to Be Podcast, where we talk to madly-in-love couples about the way they met. Sawyer and Fallon, thank you so much for joining me today.

Sawyer: Thanks for having us.

Kelsey: I saw that the movie Runaway Groomsman is releasing this fall and that the script is based on your relationship. Is that true?

Fallon: It is. Sawyer is a fantastic screenwriter for romance movies, but his dating life was absolute crap.

Sawyer: She speaks facts.

Fallon: His luck wasn’t great, either, because his girlfriend actually cheated on him with his best friend.

Kelsey: No, that’s awful.

Sawyer: That’s not the worst part. I was the bitter best man at their wedding, and halfway through the ceremony, I realized I didn’t have to put up with having to watch them get married. So . . . I left.

Fallon: In the middle of the wedding, he ran out of the church right to his car, then drove to Canoodle, where we both live now.

Sawyer: In classic, pitiful life fashion, I drove to the first bar I saw and got drunk.

Fallon: It wasn’t love at first sight . . . because we’d actually gone on a blind date a year before, but he didn’t remember me.

Sawyer: Still feel like an ass about that. But, slowly—and I mean slowly—we became friends. But she was with someone else, so I remained her friend, despite falling for her.

Fallon: At the time, since I was with someone else, I couldn’t reflect on how I felt about Sawyer.

Sawyer: It wasn’t until after she broke it off with her boyfriend—it was a mutual decision—that I slowly showed her I could be her leading man.

Fallon: Oh my God, you’re so cheesy.

Sawyer: Yeah, but you still love me.

Fallon: I do.

“MORNING,” JP says as he leans against the kitchen counter, holding a mug of coffee, looking so freaking fine in his navy-blue three-piece suit.

“Good morning,” I say. I feel my cheeks heat up, because, oh my God, I’ve never in my life had as much sex as I did last night.

Six times.

Six freaking times.

It was as if he opened a dam to my libido. Anytime he even pulled away, I nuzzled back into him, wanting more.

His hands.

His mouth.

His cock.

I needed it all, and every time he was deep inside me, with nothing between us, I still didn’t feel like we were close enough until we were both coming together. I’ve never felt anything like it, this blinding need to be attached to another human.

If I’m honest, that need has been building all week. With every time we hung out, every meal we shared, every hug before we went off to bed, I tried to tell myself we were just friends, that there was nothing more, but my heart knew better. The moment I saw the devastation on his face before the date with Derek, I nearly split in two.

I left his room with one thing on my mind—letting Derek go so I could spend the rest of the night in JP’s arms. I know it wasn’t fair to Derek, and I plan on messaging him later, but I couldn’t leave JP. I couldn’t bear the look in his eyes, the pleading for me to stay. It gutted me. And in the blink of an eye, it was as if everything fell into place.

The conversations.

The dates.

The text messages.

This was the man I was supposed to be with.

Not Derek.

Not Edwin.

Not some random guy I might meet on a dating app.

JP has been the man all along, and I’ve just been too blind to see it—until yesterday.

“Are you going to give me a kiss?” he asks, before taking a sip of his coffee.

Smiling shyly, I walk up to him, place my hand on his chest, and then stand on my toes and press a kiss to his lips. His hand around my waist holds me in place. Our mouths collide in a sweet connection, not carnal at all, but it’s nice. It’s the sweet and dreamy kiss that sends chills up your spine while your stomach flutters with excitement.

“You smell nice.”

“Yeah?” He smirks. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to you tossing me a compliment. You’ve despised me for so long.”

“I didn’t despise you. You were just . . . irritating.”

“Looks like I did a good job irritating you into my arms.” He wiggles his brows.

“Or you did a good job showing me who you really are, and I couldn’t resist that.”

“You like the real me?”

I nod. “I really do.” I give him one more kiss before pulling away and taking his coffee with me. I lean against the counter opposite him and sip from his mug. “I’m sad this is our last day here, that we leave today.”

He saunters over to me and presses me against the counter, placing both of his hands on my hips. “You fail to realize that I’m a billionaire and if we want to come up here every weekend, we can.”

I play with the buttons on his shirt. “It won’t be the same. We were in a bubble here. I mean, when we go back to LA, are you really going to come to my studio apartment and hang out?”

“If you want me to, I will. Hell, we can spend every night there, if you want.”

“Do you think you’ll be spending every night with me?”

His hands grip me tighter, then he lifts me up onto the counter. He settles between my legs and says, “I expect nothing from you. I’m just telling you where I’m at. If you want to spend the night with me, that’s your choice. If I had it my way, you’d be coming home with me tonight.”

“Aren’t you nervous?” I ask.

“Nervous about what?”

“I don’t know . . . all of this.”

His thumbs rub against my hips as he calmly asks, “Are you having regrets?”

“No,” I say quickly before setting down the mug and placing my hands on his shoulders. “Not at all. I don’t want you to think that. We just jumped into it quickly and, yes, last night was the best night of my life. I just don’t want to get lost in the physical, you know?”

The slowest smile falls over his lips as he leans in close and presses a kiss to my cheek. “I get it, babe. You want to date, yeah?”

When he pulls away, I slowly nod. “I mean, will we still go on dates?”

He chuckles. “How about this? Tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up at your place and we’ll go on a date? Does that work? Our first official date.”

“Technically, our first one was at the blind date restaurant.”

“Yes, but we both consent to go on this one.”

“Very true.” I move my hands to the nape of his neck. “You don’t mind taking me on a date? You know, slowing down from last night?”

“Kelsey.” He looks me in the eyes. “Ever since the moment you walked off the elevator at Cane Enterprises, I’ve been waiting for the moment to call you my girl. Slowing down won’t kill me, it’ll just make it better.”

How on earth did I not know this man was so sweet? That he’s not only understanding and kindhearted but is also swoon-worthy?

“Thank you.”

“Do you feel better?”

My fingers toy with the short strands of his hair. “Much better.” I lean in and give him a whisper of a kiss before asking, “You have a meeting with the mayor this morning?”

“Yeah, then I have to run across town to meet up with Edison about another building we’re interested in. Unfortunately, I won’t see you until the airplane.”

“That’s okay. Are you all packed?”

“Yup, packed this morning.”

“How? I feel half-awake.”

He smirks. “Babe, plugging into you last night gave me all the energy.”

“Eww.” I swat at his chest. “Don’t say you plugged into me.”

He laughs out loud and moves his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. “Nah, babe, I’m just high on excitement right now.” He kisses the side of my head. “It means more to me than you will ever know, when you came back last night, when you chose me.”

“It was an easy choice,” I admit, causing him to sigh into my hold.

“Fuck, I wish I didn’t have two meetings today.” He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I’ll see you on the plane?”

“Yes,” I answer. He pulls away, and as he heads toward the door, I call out, “Hey, JP?”

“Yeah?” He looks over his shoulder.

“I’m really glad you came to San Francisco. I know you really didn’t want to.”

“Only because I was fucking infatuated with you.” He winks. “See you at the airport.”

When he leaves, I practically melt on the countertop as everything he’s ever said to me comes to the forefront of my mind. The glances, the light touches, the teasing, the sweet gestures—it was all there. It always has been, from when I first met him, and I was so disappointed because Lottie had ruined our pitch to Cane Enterprises, to the way he showed me around the office when we were finally hired, offering me help when I needed it. The night of the gala, when he saw how upset I was, and instead of taking off, tried to make my night better. The dinners we’ve shared and the time we’ve spent together in San Francisco. His genuine care has been there, I’ve just been too worried to actually see it.

Worried because of his reputation.

Worried to fall for someone like him.

Worried to open my eyes and see every facet of JP.

But I see him now.

I hop off the counter and retrieve my phone from the dining room table. I pull up my text thread with Lottie and shoot her a text.

Kelsey: Boy, do I need to talk to you.

I walk back to my room and start packing again, and I’m almost done when Lottie texts me back.

Lottie: That text seems juicy. Tell me everything.

Kelsey: I was supposed to go out with Derek last night.

Lottie: Did he not show up?

Kelsey: No, he did. JP just intervened, told me he has been pining for me forever, wants to be with me and . . . well, I said a quick goodbye to Derek and wound up having sex with JP . . . six times.

Lottie: OH. MY. GOD! Only took you long enough! Also, six times . . . welcome to sex with a Cane brother. How do you feel?

Kelsey: Excited. Giddy. Slightly nervous. But mostly . . . I just can’t wait to see him again. Is this crazy? I mean, just a few days ago, we were at each other’s throats. And now he’s, well, he’s kind of everything I’d want in a man. And this is JP! I never thought I’d say that.

Lottie: I saw it all along. I was just waiting for it to happen. It’s not crazy. I think the great thing about you two is that you’re such opposites. That’s why Huxley and I work so well together. We challenge each other, but we also soothe the parts of each other that need extra care. I can see the same for you and JP.

Kelsey: Yeah, I think that’s pretty accurate. I don’t know. I like him, I really do. I’ve realized that more and more over the last few days. I’m just nervous.

Lottie: About what?

Kelsey: That I won’t be enough. That he’ll get tired of me. That he thinks he’s ready for a relationship, but he’s really not, and I’ll end up getting hurt.

Lottie: All valid concerns, but you won’t know the answers unless you try, unless you let him try.

Kelsey: And if he hurts me?

Lottie: Then he’ll not only have to answer to Huxley, but he’ll have to face me, as well, and as you know, I don’t let anyone hurt my sister.

Kelsey: Edwin hurt me.

Lottie: And guess who got a glitter bomb delivered to his house with a note that said to open it in front of his computer? He’s probably still plucking glitter from his keyboard.

Kelsey: You didn’t . . .

Lottie: No one fucks with you and gets away with it. And if JP hurts you, well, just imagine the damage I can do.

Kelsey: I might be a little scared.

Lottie: Good, I always want everyone to think I’m slightly unhinged. Keeps them on their toes.

Kelsey: I somehow feel bad for Huxley.

Lottie: Don’t, he loves it. And, also . . . don’t be worrying about what could go wrong with JP. Focus on what can go right. He likes you. You like him. Start there.

Kelsey: You’re right. Thank you, sis.

Lottie: Now, tell me more about this night of sex. Six times!

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE to help me up to my apartment,” I say as I reach my front door.

JP gives me a pointed look. “Do you really think I was going to let you carry your luggage up here alone?”

“I guess not.” I unlock my door, push it open, and then scoot one of my bags in as JP follows me, dragging my larger bag behind him. “You can just set it over here.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“This is your place?” JP asks, taking in my six-hundred-square-foot apartment.

“Yeah. It’s small, I know, but it does the job. I hope to get a bigger place at some point, but it’s hard to find an apartment that’s in a good area and doesn’t cost me my whole paycheck.”

Not saying anything, JP walks around the small place, running his fingers over the bistro set I call a dining table, peeking his head into my kitchen, and even opening the door to my closet and bathroom. When he turns toward me, he sticks his hands in his pockets and says, “I like it, babe. It’s very you.”

“It’s small, nothing compared to your house.”

“Why do you have to do that?” he asks. “Put down your place? It’s not a competition. This is where you live, be proud of it.”

That warms my heart.

“You’re right. I do like my place. It’s served me well. But I do hope to have a place bigger than this someday.”

He walks up to me, tugs on my hand, and pulls me against his chest. “Until then, maybe we can make some memories here.”

“What kind of memories are you suggesting?”

“Well, I was thinking we can cuddle on your bed, share some ice cream, and talk?”

“Jonah Peter Cane, the man who has sex on the brain twenty-four hours a day, just wants to talk?” I give him a pointed look.

“What did I tell you? You said you want to take this slow, so that’s what we’ll do. I want to spend some more time with you before I have to kiss you good night and leave.”

I play with the hem of his shirt. “Being the romantic girl that I am, I’ve always dreamed of someone saying they want to spend more time with me, but I’ve never heard it.”

“Because you weren’t with the right guy. No need to look anymore. I’m right here,” he says, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “And, thankfully, ice cream will be here shortly. I asked our driver, Ramon, to stop by the corner store to grab us some, banking on you saying yes.”

“And what if I said no?”

“Then I would’ve gone home and eaten my feelings.”

I chuckle and kiss his jaw. “How about this—we eat ice cream and I unpack while we talk, because I can’t possibly be in my apartment with two untouched luggage bags.”

“I can help. I can sort your lingerie, if you want.”

I roll my eyes and push him toward my bed. “You just hang out there and talk to me while I unpack. I don’t need you messing with my system.”

“Okay, Monica Geller,” he says, flopping on my bed.

I point at his feet and say, “Uh, shoes, mister. Those need to be taken off.”

He glances down at his feet and then back up at me. “Oh, this is going to be fun driving you nuts.”

“Try me. I’m pretty sure I know who’ll win.”

“DO you do this every time you come home from a trip?” JP asks around his mouthful of chocolate cookie dough ice cream.

“Yes.”

“What happens when you arrive home late?”

“Then I go to bed late.”

“So, you’re telling me, you need to steam and disinfect all of your shoes before you go to bed?”

I set down my steamer, pick up my bowl of ice cream, and take my last mouthful before setting it back down. “Yes. If I don’t, I won’t get any sleep. I told you, I have a system, and that system must be followed before I can tuck myself into bed.”

“I see . . . why do I find it strangely sexy?”

“Because you’re deranged,” I answer while finishing up with my last shoe. I put away my steamer and disinfectant and then zip up my suitcases—the smaller one in the bigger one—and set them by my door.

“Where do those go?”

“In storage. There’s a unit in the basement of the apartment building. It’s where I keep my holiday décor as well as any extra supplies like toilet paper, paper towels, and anything I might have purchased a surplus of because of a great coupon.”

“You’re so fucking efficient, it makes me want to bury my head between your breasts.”

I chuckle. “Are you saying you don’t have a surplus room?”

“Uh, I think mine is called a pantry.”

“Ah, true. Is it organized?”

He winces. “I think your nipples would curdle if you saw my pantry.”

“What about your bathroom? Is that organized?”

“My toothpaste has a specific spot on my counter, if that’s what you mean.”

“Your fridge, is it color coordinated?”

He scratches the side of his jaw. “I don’t even think there’s food in there.”

“Under your sink, are there drawers to hold your dishwasher pods?”

“I don’t do dishes.”

My eyes narrow. “Laundry?”

“I pay someone to clean my clothes.”

“Your closet, are your suits organized by color and texture?”

“Babe, I’m going to settle that craziness in your voice right now and tell you there’s no way in hell you will walk into my house and feel comfortable. It is unorganized.” He lies back on my bed and puts his hands behind his head. “That’s why I think it’s great that we spend a lot of time here.”

“Oh, no way. Uh-uh, not happening.” I shake my head. “Tomorrow, we shall spend our date organizing your house.”

He sits up on his elbows. “That’s not a date.”

“It is to me. I don’t think anything would make me happier than seeing you organize your shoes. Ooo, and we can go to the container store together, grab some food to go, and then just have a frenzy.”

“That doesn’t sound appealing.”

I walk over to him, straddle his lap, and place my hands on his chest. “I’ll wear a crop top, something where you can slip your hands around my bare skin whenever you get frustrated.”

His hands fall to my thighs. “I’m listening.”

“And you’ll be granted one solid make-out session, because frankly, I know I’ll be excited from all the organizing, and I’ll want some one-on-one lip time with you.”

He laughs. “Are you going to be mean about it? Or will you be gentle with my disorganized soul?”

I lean down so my mouth is inches from his. “Gentle. Always gentle.”

His hands smooth up my back, and then, in the blink of an eye, he flips me to my back and covers me with his strong, warm body. “You know I want to make you happy, but do you really want to spend our first date at my place organizing?”

“I do.”

He sighs heavily and then says, “Fine, but our next date is my idea. Got it?”

“I think that’s fair.” I grab him by the collar and pull him in close. He gently pushes my hair behind my ear, then cups my cheek before kissing me.

We spend the next half hour making out, and it’s everything I could ask for.

“KELSEY.”

“What?” I ask, spinning around, holding two bamboo containers that I plan on using for the protein bars in his pantry.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

I glance down at my joggers and black crop top shirt. “Clothes. I told you I’d wear a crop top for you.” I came to his place with a sweatshirt on, but all the organizing has made me hot, so I ditched the sweatshirt.

“Yes, but you’re not wearing a bra.”

Oh . . . yes, that’s correct.

I smile and say, “Oh, huh, must have forgotten it.”

His eyes narrow, and it’s quite comical.

“That’s not what we agreed upon.”

“Are you complaining about me not wearing a bra? Really?”

“Yes . . . you’re making me hard.”

“Control yourself. We have more organizing to do.”

“It’s been two hours. Can’t we take a break?”

“And where do you suppose we take a break?”

“Outside. You haven’t even seen my pool or backyard. We can stare at the stars, take a breath for a second.”

I glance back at the pantry. “Well, I guess we could take a break. We’ve really accomplished a lot. Maybe a break is in order.”

The relief on his face is cute. He guides me past the storage bins I purchased for the pantry, and leads me through the living room to the large sliding glass doors. After a slight pause, he pushes past the curtains to a panel on the wall, enters a code, and then presses a few buttons. Like magic, the pool lights up in a deep blue color, bulb string lights dance above us, and the larger-than-life palm trees, which line the perimeter of his backyard, glow with soft uplighting.

“Wow,” I say. “This is . . . this is dreamy.”

“I thought you’d like it.” He leads me to a large white lounger in front of the pool, perfectly placed under the crisscrossing bulb lights. “Will you sit with me?”

“Of course,” I answer.

He takes a seat first and then guides me down between his legs, my back to his chest. I lean against his body and use him for support. He wraps his arms around my exposed stomach.

“This okay?” he asks quietly, which surprises me, because he’s always been a man who takes what he wants, so the fact that he’s checking in just makes me respect him that much more.

“It’s perfect, JP.” And then, in the distance, very unexpectedly, I hear the telltale sounds of instrumental music. But not just any instrumental music. “Why do I know this song?” I ask him.

His voice is low, like a whisper of a rumble. “It was the first song we danced to at the gala. An instrumental version of Wildest Dreams.”

“You remembered that?”

“Kelsey,” he says softly, “I remember everything that involves you. Everything. From what you wore the very first day I met you—a blue turtleneck dress—to the way you smelled when we shared an elevator for the first time—like vanilla and brown sugar—to the way you tasted the first time I had a chance to be intimate with you—like a fucking sunset on a rainy day. This song . . . it was engrained in my brain, and I just hoped that I’d get a chance to play it for you again one day.”

I almost can’t hear him from the pounding of my own heart. “I had . . . I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t. And that’s okay. I soaked you up from a distance and waited until you could see me as the man I really am.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried, but also, fear got in the way. Pride took over a lot of times. You’re not an easy shell to crack. You were very professional when we first met, so breaking through that wall was hard.”

“Because of Lottie,” I say. “Because of what she was doing with Huxley. I know she had to do what she did, both of them did. Slightly unorthodox, but not only did I understand, I approved. But that meant I had to show you guys that we weren’t sisters looking for handouts, you know? I wanted to keep things as professional as possible. I wanted to show you we were legit businesswomen.”

“There was no doubt that you were, but I understand what you’re saying.”

“And frankly, when I first saw you, I knew you were trouble. I thought . . . God, he’s so handsome.”

“Did you?” he asks, shock in his voice.

I nod against his chest. “I did. I really thought you were almost too handsome to look at. My romantic mind was reeling with possibilities, but I put that to bed really quickly because I’d worked so hard to establish my business, and working with Cane Enterprises was a huge deal. I didn’t want to mess that up with a crush.”

“A crush, no fucking way. I don’t believe that.”

“I did.” I lean back and tilt my head so I can look up at him. “At first, it was a crush, but I worked hard to interpret everything you said or did as annoying. That annoyance grew and I was able to block out those original feelings and focus on the business. But with every kind thing you did, I could feel my original assessment of you becoming more prominent.”

“And what about Derek?”

“What about him?”

“Why did you go out with him?”

“Because I was truly looking for my soulmate.”

“Never thought I’d be that person?”

“Never thought it was an option,” I answer honestly. “Not just because of business, but because I know we’re different in so many ways. You’re more experienced, you’re more outgoing, you’re more . . . I felt you were out of my league.”

“That’s bullshit,” he says, his voice not angry, more disbelieving. His hand slides over my stomach and his thumb casually rubs against my heated skin. “Kelsey, I’m nowhere near your stratosphere. Hell, I’m lucky you even looked my way.”

“Stop, you know that’s not the truth.”

He tilts my head back and lifts my chin so my lips are at his disposal. “Babe, it’s the truth.” He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to my lips. It’s not long, but it’s delicious and causes me to groan as he leans away. “Fuck, when you make that sound . . .” His hand slides across my stomach again, and this time, his thumb caresses the underside of my breast briefly. “Ask me something so I don’t strip you down and pull you into the pool with me.”

The thought of that is incredibly appealing. Very appealing. So appealing that I squirm under his touch, wanting him to “accidentally” touch my breast again.

But we’re taking it slow.

We’re trying to not be all about lust.

So, I close my eyes and block out the desire I have for this man while attempting to think of a question.

“Umm . . . what, uh . . . what’s your favorite . . . um . . .”

Position?

Way to be sucked off?

Sex toy?

God, what’s wrong with me?

“What’s my favorite what?” he asks, his hand once again smoothing over my stomach, his thumb dragging so close to my breast, my bare breast—thank you, crop top—that a low throb starts pulsing between my legs.

Body part?

Piece of lingerie?

Way to make me come . . .

“God, I don’t know what I was going to ask,” I say breathlessly.

“Hmm, maybe I can ask you something?”

“It’s going to be naughty, isn’t it?”

He chuckles. “Why would you assume that?” Goosebumps erupt as his fingers dance across my stomach again. I gasp when his thumb connects with my breast.

I press back against his chest. “Because, you’re attempting to turn me on, and it’s working.”

“Babe, I’m not attempting to do anything.” His thumb skims just below my nipple.

“Jonah,” I whisper. The spot between my thighs is now aching.

“Yes, baby?” he asks, pressing a kiss on my neck.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I don’t.” He swipes his thumb over my nipple again, and because there’s fabric between his thumb and my breast, I don’t get the intense sensation that I want from his touch. “I just want to make you comfortable. Are you comfortable?”

“Not anymore.” I wiggle against him and rest my head to the side, exposing more of my neck.

“Shame. How can I make you more comfortable?” His lips kiss up the column of my neck, gentle, light pecks, leaving a trail of chills along my arms.

“You know what you can do.”

“Unfortunately, I’m at a loss.” His lips ride close to my ear as he seductively says, “You’re going to have to tell me . . . or show me.”

God, he’s tempting me. He’s giving me the option to explore.

And I desperately want to explore.

Just a little teasing.

Just a little relief.

I move my hand to the nape of his neck and anchor myself to him as my other hand grips the one that’s resting on my exposed stomach. On a deep breath, I bring it under my shirt and rest it just below my breast.

I feel him harden against my back and that’s more of a turn-on than where his actual hand is. Knowing I can do that to him, that I can turn him on as much as he does me. This man who’s unruly, who’s sexy, who’s someone I never thought would look my way . . . I can make him lose control. It makes me not only feel powerful, but also incredibly desirable, and I can’t recall the last time I actually felt that, if ever.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers.

“I want to know what you’d do to me if I were naked, in your pool.”

He groans into my ear, and his erection becomes even more prominent against my backside. I encourage his thumb to drag over my bare nipple, and he does just that, causing me to clench my teeth. That feels . . . so good.

The pulsing between my legs becomes heavy, needy, and my legs widen, even though he’s nowhere near them.

“If you were naked in my pool, first, I’d make you dunk yourself completely so I could watch the water droplets roll off your amazing tits.” He squeezes my breast and I moan against his hold. “The fucking sexiest tits I’ve ever seen. And I fucking mean that. Just big enough for my hands, perky, with these hard nipples that drive me nuts. And you’re so responsive when I touch them.” He rolls my nipple between his fingers and I groan before lifting my shirt completely, exposing both breasts for him. “Fuck, baby. You make me so goddamn hard. Do you feel that?”

“I do,” I answer. “I love that you get hard just touching me.”

“You have no fucking clue.” While one of his hands plays with my nipple, the other drags over my stomach again, to where the waistband of my pants meets my skin. “But if you were naked, in the pool, I wouldn’t just be touching you like this. I’d be exploring your slick, wet skin. I’d lay you across the edge of the endless pool, where the water falls over.”

His fingers stroke the elastic of my sweatpants.

His other hand moves from one breast to the other, and he casually caresses my skin.

Featherlike touches that drive me crazy, but don’t quite push me over the edge.

“I’d start at your tits. I’d suck on your nipples, envisioning what it would be like to slip my dick between your breasts and fuck them.”

I want him to do that. The thought of it makes me even hotter. So hot that these sweatpants feel stifling now.

“And then I’d move to your stomach, to just above your pussy.” He presses his fingers against the spot he’s talking about, above the fabric of my pants. “And I’d tease you, over and over again with my tongue until you tug on my hair so hard that it’s painful.”

My fingers inch toward his hair as he releases my breast and moves his hand to my hip, where he slips his fingers under the elastic of my pants.

“You’re not wearing underwear?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

“You fucking tease,” he whispers, spreading his hands wide so his thumbs rest just above my pubic bone.

Fuck.

Me.

I squirm against his touch, but he stills me as he says, “When I knew you couldn’t take it anymore, I’d part you with two fingers and eat your pussy. Fuck, I can taste it right now, sweet and salty, fucking delicious on my tongue.” His thumbs drag inward and then pull back as my pelvis rises. I grip his neck tighter.

“You’re making me so wet.”

“Good,” he says, pushing my pants down until they just barely cover me.

Needing more contact, I lift the hem of my shirt up and over my head, leaving me topless and resting on his chest.

“You want so much more, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” I whisper, bringing one of my hands to my breasts. My touch is nowhere near like his, and all it does is frustrate me. “Please, do something.”

“But I’m not done telling my story,” he says before dragging his tongue over my neck. Unsure of what to do with my hands, I reach behind me and hold on to him one more time, wishing I could stroke his stiff cock pressed against me, and then listen to him moan while I pleasure him. “I’d fuck you with my tongue, over and over again until you’re begging me to stop, and then, and only then, would I lower you against the edge, prop your ass up, and eat you out all over again. I’d claim your cunt, make sure you never forget who makes you come the way I do.”

My legs shiver.

My body shakes.

And I shift, causing my pants to fall off the curve of my ass and past my pussy, exposing me. I spread my legs and wiggle the pants down until they’re at my knees. Then I shimmy out of them and leave myself completely naked on the lounger with him.

“Here I thought we were taking things slow,” he says as he drags the backs of his fingers up my stomach—not the direction I want him to go.

“You can’t turn me on like this and expect me to just sit here, unfazed.”

“I didn’t. I was hoping this is where it would end up, with you writhing for more. Now, the question is, will I let you come?”

I pause and turn so I can look at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He just smiles.

“You realize I can make myself come, right?”

I go to reach between my legs, but he takes my arms, shifts them behind my back, and then locks me against his chest so quickly that I don’t have a moment to breathe. I try to close my legs, but he loops his ankles over and under mine, spreading me even wider.

I’m trapped.

Pinned down.

And I’ve never been more aroused in my life.

I know if I told him to stop, he would.

I know if I told him I didn’t want this, he’d redress me and return to our conversation.

But I don’t want that.

I want this.

I want him owning me.

Controlling me.

Teasing me.

“Now what are you going to do?” he asks.

I let out a deep sigh as I lean into his hold, not fighting him. “I guess listen to you.”

“Good girl,” he whispers and then he draws lazy circles on my inner thigh. “Now, as I was saying, once I fucked you with my tongue again, I’d let you catch your breath before I brought you over to the steps. Then I’d sit down on the top step so my cock that’s begging for you is above water.”

I wet my lips.

“And I’d demand that you return the favor.” His lips dance over my cheek. “Would you?”

“No question, I would. I want my mouth on your cock now.”

He groans and drags his fingers over the spot just above where I want him. He toys with me there, dipping lower and lower until he’s playing with my slit. I try to move, try to get him where I want him, but he holds me still, his strong body taking control.

“Tell me how you’d suck me in the pool.”

My lungs feel heavy as they work harder for air. “I would . . . I’d have you hold my hair. I’d expect you to grip it hard, guiding me as I lower my mouth to the tip. I’d swirl my tongue, around and around.” His pelvis moves against my back, the movement so small that it can’t possibly do more than drive him nuts. “And then I’d ask you to spread your legs so I could play with your balls while I take your length all the way to the back of my throat.”

“Baby . . .” he whispers. “Would you gag?”

“I would. But I’d do it all over again.”

“Fuck,” he breathes as his fingers slide over one side of my pussy, but never dip inside.

“I’d play with your taint. I’d drag my fingers over the seam of your scrotum. I’d lick the length of your cock, and then repeat that until you tug on my hair, showing me you can’t take it anymore.”

“Your devil tongue would make me want to come sooner than I prefer.” He dips his finger to my arousal, barely touches my clit, and then removes his hand completely, bringing it back to my stomach.

“Nooo,” I groan. “JP, don’t move your hand.”

“Are you trying to tell me what to do?” he asks as he lightly moves his fingers over my breasts, circling my areolas, but never giving me what I want.

“Yes, you’re making me so hot, so wet.”

“Good.” His hand moves back between my legs and rests there, his palm cupping me, his fingers present, but not doing anything. “Would you let me come in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

He presses down on one finger, then the other, switching between the two and driving me so fucking crazy that I feel sweat drip down my back.

“Would you swallow?”

“Yes,” I answer, my voice pleading in desperation.

“Good girl,” he says, then he spreads me and presses two fingers to my clit.

“Yes,” I cry out, my chest arching as I’m granted some relief. He moves his fingers, up and down, up and down, the motion so full of what I need to relieve this growing, gnawing pressure between my legs, that I relax against his chest, against his pressing erection, and just let him take over. “Right there,” I pant. “Please don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t come in your mouth,” he says, bringing me back to the fantasy. “I wouldn’t want to. I’d bring myself right to the edge until I pulled on your hair, tugging you off my cock.”

He rubs faster, and everything around me fades to black as I feel my body climb closer and closer. This unbridled pulse throbs up my legs, down my arms, and collects between my legs. It’s there. I’m right there.

“Yes. Oh God, I’m going to—”

He removes his hand and rests it on my stomach, unmoving.

“What are you doing?” I cry out in absolute shock and pain.

“Listen closely, baby . . . are you listening?”

Barely. My body is internally roaring so loudly that I can barely hear the light whip of wind rustling through the palm leaves above us.

“Y-yes,” I stammer out.

“Good. This is where the fun begins.”

“What fun?” I ask, my orgasm starting to fade away, leaving me with this hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach . . . something more maddening than anything I’ve ever experienced.

“This is where I teach you about listening to me.”

“Listening to what?”

He drags his finger over my body again, up to my breasts, where he draws tight circles, and then back to my stomach. “This body, when it’s naked, belongs to me. Do you agree?”

I bite my lower lip and nod. He owns me. That’s undeniable, especially in this moment.

“And when you’re naked, not only do I own your body, but I tell it when it can come, and you’re not allowed to come yet.”

“Why not?”

He rolls my nipple between his fingers. “I suggest you don’t question me, unless you want to lie here all night, being teased with no relief.”

My lips seal shut because I believe he would do that.

I believe he would let the only pleasure I receive be from the wind gently lapping against my arousal.

“Sorry,” I say.

His lips land on my cheek, just in front of my ear. “It’s okay, baby. You’re learning. Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Frustrated.”

“Perfect.” He drags his hand back down my stomach and once again slips two fingers against my clit. I sigh into his touch and relax against his chest as he holds me in place. “Now, back to the pool. I tug you off my cock, because I’m not ready to come, not until I own your pussy. How would you want me to take you?”

His fingers cause me to climb again, and it happens faster than before. My mind is fixated on what he’s doing with his fingers as his other hand moves up to my breasts. He circles my nipples, teasing me, taunting me, driving my desire for him higher and higher.

“Yes,” I moan. “Right there.”

He snaps his hand away and grips my chin, forcing me to look at him as he leans over my shoulder. “I asked you a question, Kelsey.”

My mind reels.

My heart hammers.

My legs go completely numb.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

He smirks and rests a gentle kiss on my lips. “At least you’re honest.” And then he slips his fingers into my mouth. I taste myself, and I have no idea what comes over me, but I suck on his index finger, and the most satisfied look crosses his face.

“Fuck, baby.” He starts fingering me again, and this time, his pace is faster. “Now, answer me, how would you want me to fuck you in the pool?”

His fingers fly over my clit, massaging, applying the perfect pressure, driving me wild with need. Breathlessly, I answer, “From behind.”

“Behind?” He removes his hand, and I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly that I almost feel tears spring forth. “You like it from behind?” I nod. He tweaks my nipple and my chest flies against his hand as my head whips to the side on a groan.

“I do,” I answer. “I love it from behind.”

“What else do you like? Do you like how I’m edging you? Bringing you so close to your orgasm and then taking it away?”

I shake my head. “No. I want relief.”

“But, baby, we’re taking it slow. This is slow.”

“This is blissful torture.”

He rolls my nipple a few more times before releasing my breast. Once again, he removes any touch and lets me lie there, trapped in his embrace. Like a feather, he slowly and lightly runs his coarse beard over my neck, across my cheek, and back down again, his breath tickling me right before he presses the faintest of kisses to my shoulder.

“How do you want to come?”

“I don’t care,” I say. “Just let me.”

Fingers stroke down my inner thigh and then up to my entrance. I tilt my pelvis up as best as I can, and he slips two fingers inside of me.

“I wish that was your cock,” I say.

“Me too, but I’m honoring what you want. I’m just having fun touching you.” He moves his fingers in and out, but it isn’t enough, it’s not even close to enough, and he knows it as I writhe under his touch.

“Please tell me you’ll let me come. Please, JP.”

“One thing you need to know, Kelsey”—he kisses my cheek—“is that I’ll always let you come. If you trust me with your body, you’ll always come.” Then he presses his thumb to my clit.

“Yes,” I cry out. “Please, please don’t pull away.”

The buildup.

The pressure.

The numbness in my body since he started this is fluctuating in waves. Consuming me, then fading, consuming me more, then fading less, and now consuming me so much that I’m so close, so freaking close . . .

“I’m . . . I’m going . . .”

“Not yet.” He moves his hand and I cry out in frustration.

“Jonah . . . please.” Tears spring to my eyes and he twists my chin to find my lips. He parts them and open-mouth kisses me as he once again presses two fingers to my clit and rubs it over and over again. I’m so high on the feeling of him, so over-the-top turned on that I feel my body float into a euphoric state.

“I fucking love it when you say my name,” he murmurs against my lips. Removing his mouth, he grips my jaw and whispers into my ear, “You may come.”

His fingers fly over my clit, his permission feeling like a wall has been broken. I relax into his touch, into the overwhelming rapture that’s throbbing through my veins.

Pulse after pulse, I’m driven higher and higher until I feel my orgasm crest. Just a few more strokes.

“Please don’t pull away. I’m . . . oh God, I’m so close.”

“I won’t.” He kisses my neck. “Come, baby.”

His fingers move wildly over my clit, my stomach bottoms out, my legs feel like they’re floating, and with one last pass of his fingers, I’m coming, crying out his name over and over again as wave after wave of pleasure rips through me.

“Fuck . . . yes, Jonah. Oh my God. Oh fuck . . . oh fuck.” My pelvis flies up and when I think my orgasm is going to fade, it doesn’t. It keeps pulling me in, drawing me into a ball of nothing until tears fall down my cheeks and I fall into a lifeless version of myself, completely and utterly sated.

On a deep breath, he removes his hand, arms, and legs, and then lifts me into a cradled position, holding me close as I rest my face on his chest.

Lovingly, he strokes my hair, pressing gentle kisses to my forehead. Out of nowhere, he pulls a blanket over the two of us and holds me tight.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a soft voice, the demanding, controlling man nowhere to be seen.

“I’m . . . perfect,” I answer.

I’m aware that I’m naked, in his arms.

I’m also aware that his cock is rigid beneath me.

But when I try to move out of his arms, he doesn’t let me, so instead, I let him cradle me.

“You’re easily the sexiest, most outstandingly gorgeous woman I’ve ever fucking held in my arms. And I’m still in awe you chose me.”

I want to ask how he could be so blind. I want to tell him it was him all along, but I can’t, because I know it took me a second to realize how I feel about him. But now that I know, I can’t possibly ever see myself with anyone else.

“I’m so connected to you, JP. And I don’t want to scare you, but . . . I really like you, and I know deep down to my very core, that you have the potential to absolutely destroy me. There would be no recovering.”

“I’ll never hurt you.” He kisses my head. “Never, baby.”

THE SLIDING glass door shuts and Lottie spins to me. With desperate eyes, she whispers, “Tell me everything.”

Last night, after JP finally let me come, we spent the rest of the evening holding hands, talking, and casually organizing his kitchen. He kissed me every chance he got, and I swooned with every glance, every whispered word he said to me.

I left his place feeling 100 percent smitten.

When I woke up this morning, he was at my door with coffee. He made me come before taking a shower, and then when I tried to make him come, he wouldn’t let me and reminded me he’s taking things slow. Which I think means, he’s showing me this isn’t about his lustful needs. He wants my heart, my mind. The rest will come later.

And when we were in the office, going over the solar power plans for the Angelica, he’d smooth his hand over my thigh, steal glances, and occasionally link our fingers together. He’s attentive, loving, caring, and demanding. Everything I’ve ever wanted, and it still feels too good to be true. We were in the middle of talking about solar panel placement when Huxley came in and asked us to dinner at his house. I wasn’t sure if JP had told his brothers or not, but it seemed like Huxley was very much in the know, and it didn’t seem like he minded.

Now that I’m here, at their place, I know for a fact he doesn’t care. He still wears a calculating gaze, but it’s directed at JP, not me.

Leaning in close to my sister, I say, “Lottie, I’m so infatuated with the man.”

“Oh my God, I can tell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy. The smile on your face, oh my God, Kelsey . . . it makes me so freaking full of joy.”

“He makes me happy. He’s so . . . God, I don’t know how to say it. There used to be such constant bickering and irritation, but the moment the dam broke, he became this overprotective alpha that won’t let anything hurt me. He possesses me in all the right ways, but he’s also all about me being independent and building my business.”

Lottie nods. “It’s the Cane way. Don’t you remember how Huxley and I were at each other’s throats? And then, we just . . . slipped into each other and it’s been hard to breathe without him since.”

“Yes.” I glance toward the house, where the boys are putting together dinner, most likely talking about us. “It’s been a few days, and I can feel myself . . . God, I can feel myself falling for him, hard.”

Lottie quietly claps the tips of her fingers. “Ohhhh, this makes me so happy. I just knew it. I knew you two would be perfect for each other.”

“I’m just terrified that something is going to go wrong. Someway, somehow, this is all too good to be true.”

“It’s not. Don’t think that way. He really likes you. I can tell from the way he looks at you, the way he sits near you, and how he rests his hand on your thigh. He’s infatuated, he has been for a while. This is it, Kelse, this is what you’ve been waiting for.”

I roll my teeth over my bottom lip and say, “I think it is, too. Even before we got together, when we were just hanging out as what I thought was friends, he understood me. He supported me. He knew what I needed. I’m just . . .” I press my hands to my cheeks. “I like him so much.”

The sliding glass door opens and the boys walk out holding large, wooden charcuterie boards stacked full of crackers, cheeses, meats, jams, spreads, and fruit. They set the trays down on the coffee table in front of us, and then JP takes a seat next to me, slipping his arm behind me before leaning in and tilting my face toward him to place a gentle kiss on my lips.

When he pulls away, he whispers, “Talk about me?”

I can’t hide my smile. “Yes.”

“Good things?”

“Great things.”

“Huxley, look at them,” Lottie coos. “God, I’m so happy right now.”

I catch Huxley’s glare toward JP as he says, “I’m happy, too.”

But he doesn’t look happy. Not even a little.

Later that night, when JP is walking me to my apartment door, I ask him, “Is everything okay with Huxley?”

“What do you mean?” JP asks. When we reach my door, he takes my keys from me and unlocks it for me. He holds the door open and I walk in, with him following closely behind.

“He didn’t look happy. I know he said he was happy for us, but I can’t help but think he might be upset. Is he mad at me?”

JP shuts the door, then leans against it. He pulls me in close. Holding my hands, he says, “He’s happy for us, but he’s basically shooting off warning signs to me. He doesn’t want me to hurt you. I assured him that wasn’t going to happen, but he’s more protective of you than me.”

“Oh. So, he’s not mad at me?”

“Not even a little. I’m sure if you ask Lottie tomorrow, she’ll confirm that. As he explained to me in the kitchen, Lottie is his everything, and what’s important to her is important to him. Apparently, you trump me now, and honestly”—he rubs the side of his jaw—“I’m okay with that. He gave me the speech not to hurt you or he’ll hurt me.”

I smile at that. “Well, look at me having a big brother.”

“That’s exactly what he is, and I hate to admit it, but I might love him even more for looking out for you.”

“So, does he approve?”

JP nods. “With caution. He likes the idea of us, but he wants to make sure I’m in this. I told him I was, that I was one hundred percent invested in making you happy, and that wasn’t ever going to change.”

My heart flutters and I close the minimal space between us. I run my hands up his chest, to his jaw, then pull him closer to my mouth. “You make me happy—you know that?”

“Same, babe.” He wraps his hand around the back of my head and very slowly kisses me, the delicious feeling of his lips spreading through my veins, all the way to the tips of my toes.

Yup, I’m falling so hard for this man. Harder than I’ve ever fallen before.