Big Pickle: A Secret Boss Romantic Comedy - JJ Knight Page 0,52
is so hot I think I’m going to explode.
She comes closer. “Now give the phone to me.”
I almost hesitate. The phone could be my undoing if she gets even a glimpse of my contacts. But I give it over.
She straddles me, pressing her perfect round breasts into my face. “Look up.”
I do.
She takes the shot, my face buried in her glorious naked chest. She turns it for me to see.
Fuuuuuck.
“Jason’s personal porn.” She tosses the phone on the sofa. “Now, take me the hell to bed.”
I don’t make her ask twice.
24
Nova
I know I made a big show of nonchalance out there, but as Jason takes my hand to lead me to his bedroom, I’m quaking in my bargain bin heels. And skirt. And nothing else.
Jason’s condo is sleek and modern and perfectly furnished. The only way you even know someone lives here are the scattered coins on the dresser and several shirts thrown over a chair in the corner. One of them is the Pickle shirt I gave him after we cleaned the bathrooms.
He must have a housekeeper or something. I’ve never seen a single man’s place look like this.
His bed isn’t made, though, so nobody’s been there today. It helps me, seeing the navy comforter in disarray, the pillow askew. As if Jason’s not all the way perfect. He’s human like the rest of us.
He sits on the end of the bed and pulls me close. I’m taller in the heels, and his hair tickles the underside of my breasts. He wraps his arms around my hips and holds me tightly.
I run my fingers through his hair, wondering how he’s doing. It’s been an up-and-down night, that’s for sure. Finally, I kick off the shoes and inch up the skirt so I can sit on his lap. This brings our faces closer together.
“You okay?” I ask. His emotions have turned. It’s an entirely different Jason than I’ve seen before, quiet and introspective.
He nods, and his hands lift to hold each side of my face. His gaze meets mine, eyes glittery in the bit of light coming from a table lamp near the door.
“Good, because I have no idea how to get to your car or mine. I’m at your mercy.” My grin teases a small smile from him.
“I think I like Nova Strong at my mercy.”
He rolls us over, neatly shifting us up the bed to fall in the middle. The flannel sheets are soft and warm. “I could get all cozy in these,” I say, dragging one over me.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he says, pulling the sheet away. “And away with this.” He finds the zipper on the skirt and slides it down.
We’ve had four encounters so far, and he’s never put his own pleasure before mine. As he tosses my skirt away from the bed, I shift to my knees. “I believe I’m in charge here,” I tell him.
“Is that a direct order from my superior?”
“It might be.”
Jason falls back on the white sheets, his hands clasped behind his head. He’s like a Greek god sitting there, shirtless, every muscle in his chest and abs on display.
“Am I getting a performance review?” he asks.
We’re back to our light banter, and this is easier than the serious version of him.
“There seems to be some pickle mismanagement going on.” I unbuckle his leather belt and sinuously slide it from the loops.
“Is there? How can I correct it?’
I unfasten the button of his fly. “I’ll need to take inventory to know.”
He swallows hard as I lower the zipper and spread apart his fly. Below it, he wears black fitted boxers.
“It seems the goods are all stacked to one side.”
“Should we rotate the stock?”
“Good idea.”
I grasp the elastic band and pull it down. Jason Packwood’s impressive erection lifts away from his belly.
“I feel like we need a clever new name for this new pickle offering,” I say.
He laughs. “Like the pickle of the month?”
“Exactly.”
“Big Pickle?”
“Maybe.” I run my thumb along the head. “Head salami?”
“Except I’m only a lowly vegetable slicer.”
“Thoughts?”
“Mayo cannon?”
My hand stills. “Jason! Gross!”
He grasps my waist, tossing me back onto the sheets. Before I can react, he’s got me on my back, and I’m pinned, his legs straddling me this time, the mayo cannon aimed right at me.
He leans down and kisses me, his hard chest brushing against mine. I feel light and happy.
His hair tickles my belly, and I draw my knees up on either side of him. “A bed,” I say. “How ordinary.”