Central Park has a way of tricking you into thinking you’ve escaped the city. Strolling along the curving pathways, it’s all trees and blooms as far as the eye can see. But then the Manhattan skyline peeks through the greenery, an ever-present reminder that you’re still in the concrete jungle. One of them is JP’s apartment building, jerking up into the skyline like an arrogant cock.
I tell myself that I’m just out for an innocent stroll, and I almost believe the lie.
Feet with a mind of their own take over. It’s not like I know where I’m going, except I do.
The Untermyer Fountain, with its iconic bronze figures forever suspended in a watery waltz. It’s unmistakably visible in the background of the photo.
An unsettling knot forms in my stomach, pulling tighter as I near the section of grass that lines up with our picture. The exact spot where our bodies had apparently once lain entwined.
Now, it’s just me.
I ease myself onto the grass, its blades jabbing into my skin like tiny reminders of reality. I yank the photo from my pocket, holding on to it like I’m Rose gripping that dang Heart of the Ocean in Titanic.
As I look at my beaming face in the photo, my heart doesn’t just clench; it trips over itself.
With a heavy sigh, I lie back, letting the grass cushion my body. I hold the photo above me, the sunlight filtering through the glossy print.
Slowly, I shut my eyes, the photo clutched in my fist. The park’s bustle recedes to a low hum, like the world’s got its volume down, and suddenly, I’m right back there.
Back in that moment.
JP’s sprawled on the blanket, the sun gleaming off that perfectly sculpted jawline hidden beneath a layer of infuriatingly sexy stubble. I sit cross-legged beside him, absentmindedly picking at blades of grass, resisting the urge to run my hands over his broad chest. I’m horny just looking at him. God, I’m always horny these days.
“I’ll be in Vegas all next week for work,” he drawls, eyes closed from under his baseball hat.
My shoulders slump. “The whole week?”
One gorgeous brown eye opens, piercing me. “Come with me. Work from the Vegas office.”
I shake my head with a wry laugh. “Oh, yeah. Let me tell Angry Andy that I’m jetting off to Vegas on a sudden whim.”
He raises a brow, both eyes now fixed on me. “Have you forgotten who owns the company?”
“I can’t play that card. You know that.” I flick a piece of grass at him.
He intercepts my hand, suddenly serious. “Why not, Luce? Isn’t it time you started telling people about us?”
My eyes widen. “Why would I do that?”
He hoists himself onto his elbows, a scowl etched into his handsome features. “Why? You’re asking why? Are you planning on keeping me your dirty little secret forever?”
My heart flutters traitorously. I look away. “Yes? We both know I’m just using you for sex and status.”
A heavy sigh leaves his lips. “Look at me,” he says, his voice a soothing, deep baritone that has my eyes meeting his. “I need a serious answer.”
“I just… I didn’t think you were the forever type.” I lower my gaze, finding a sudden interest in the grass beneath us.
His fingers cradle my chin, tilting my face upward. “I’d like to stick around, if you’ll let me.”
“Yeah?” I breathe.
“Absolutely.” His thumb traces a path over my bottom lip. “I have no intention of letting you go.”
I can’t stop the giddy smile spreading across my face. “I think I might like that.”
“So does that mean you’ll come clean about us?”
I shuffle. “The last thing I need is to be the hot gossip in the IT department.”
“The same guys who have a shrine to Sheldon Cooper? Why the fuck do you care? I’m not sure half of them would even be interested.”
“Of course I care!”
He wraps an arm around me, pulling me on top of his firm, gorgeous body. “We can handle this, Lucy. I’ll make sure nothing looks bad on you.”
“You can do a lot but you can’t do that. You can’t control people’s judgments and snide remarks.”
“No,” he agrees. His grip on my hips tightens possessively. “But I can shift your perspective on handling it. And I can sure as hell fire anyone who messes with you.”
I smack his chest playfully, laughing. “I hope you’re joking!”
His expression grows serious, eyes darkening. “Nothing I say is a joke right now. Come on, Lucy, you’ve met Maggie and my nephews. Isn’t it time you started telling some people?”
Suddenly he rolls, pinning me beneath him against the picnic blanket. He gazes down at me, his muscular frame pressing against my softer curves. His face is just inches from mine, his minty breath warm against my skin. “And it’s time you let me tell people you’re mine,” he murmurs.
I bite my lip nervously. “I’m just scared… in case it ends and then everyone knows I slept with the boss.”
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his eyes tender. “That won’t happen.”
My breath catches. “How can you be so sure?”
He holds my gaze. “Because I love you. I’m all in, Lucy. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”
My pulse spikes. “You… you love me?”
“I do,” he murmurs, his brown eyes fixed on me. “I’m not expecting you to say it back yet. Just know I’m in this for the long haul.”
His eyes bore into me with such intensity I swear he’s staring into the depths of my secrets.
Overcome with emotion, I knock off his baseball cap so I can run my fingers through his silky locks. He comes down to press his lips against mine. My hands roam urgently over the muscular planes of his back, pulling him closer. His body presses harder against mine.
We melt into each other, our kisses growing more heated, more consuming. I wrap myself around him, craving no space between us. Hands roaming everywhere like we have eight of them. Breathing ragged.
This is it. This is the kiss I’ve been waiting for. A kiss that tastes undeniably of love.
JP
“JP, this isn’t something you’re obligated to do,” Killian protests, spinning in his chair to fix his penetrating gaze on me.
“Or to be precise,” Connor interjects, heaving a tired sigh, “we’d prefer if you didn’t. Our gaming license is locked down. How you managed that with the gaming commission is beyond me.”
His tone, laced with a hint of begrudging respect, brings a fleeting smile to my face. Being aware of who the top dogs’ mistresses are comes in handy, as does subtly hinting I may gather them all for a soiree.
“There are zero logical reasons for you to step down,” Killian argues, his voice bouncing off the sleek, minimalist walls of our executive boardroom. The one with the twenty-foot window overlooking the Manhattan skyline. I’ll miss this view, that’s for sure. “This is your company. You built it with us. Without you, we wouldn’t be taking in more money than any other casinos in the country.”