Suddenly His - Jessa Kane Page 0,28

sex, filled me with a bone-deep satisfaction. I can only imagine what it’ll be like to see her sleeping in mine. God willing, I won’t have much longer to wait. She’s mine and her beautiful head belongs on the pillow next to mine. My arms are empty without her there.

With a determined wrist flick, I adjust the collar of my shirt and leave my bedroom.

Of course, I put Maisy in the room directly across from mine—and I’m surprised to see the door open now. The maid is inside making her bed, but there’s no sign of Maisy. Ordering myself not to give in to the sudden panic in my gut, I nonetheless fly down the stairs and into the dining room, slowing only when I see her at the table, sipping orange juice and staring up at the chandelier with an expression of wonder.

Oh thank God. Thank God.

“Good morning,” I clear my throat to say, sitting across from her. The Wall Street Journal is automatically placed in front of me, along with a mug of black coffee. Toast and a sliced hard-boiled egg. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, I had cereal with a banana on top,” she whispers, watching the maid hustle around with wide eyes. “Thank you.”

“You slept well.”

She blinks. “Was that a question?”

I give her a glimpse at my obsession. Let it kindle in my eyes until her knuckles are white around her orange juice glass. That’s right, angel. I’m always watching. “No. It wasn’t.”

Maisy takes a slow breath, letting it out unsteadily.

Yesterday when I brought her home, took her down to the game room…we had fun.

More fun than I remember having in a long time. Maybe ever.

The combination of exertion, the challenge and chase, that fizzy giggle of hers…there was no way I could keep my cock locked up. Not entirely. I needed in. Needed Maisy on her back, legs spread, screaming with pleasure. And I got it. Got more than I could ever hope for in a fantasy. But I’m left right on the edge now. Hungry, hard, aching.

How long can I keep myself in check?

Maisy twists her orange juice on the table, appearing steeped in thought, and I find myself eager to pry her apart. To find out what she’s thinking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “I’m just…” She glances toward the entrance of the dining room. “Won’t my mother be here any minute?”

Jesus.

I forgot where things stood with her mother. Forgot I even fired her.

If that doesn’t prove I’m a heartless bastard unworthy of Maisy, nothing will.

No more lies. Only truths, Jack.

Bracing for the fallout, I take a long sip of my hot coffee and set it down. “She won’t be coming, angel.”

Her startled gaze flies to mine. “Why? Did you…fire her?”

To my surprise, she seems to accept that this was inevitable. “Yes.”

“When?” she breathes, drawing her hands into her lap.

I hesitate to answer, which makes sense, since I don’t want Maisy to be pissed. But it doesn’t make sense, as well. Because I’ve warned her—and proven—repeatedly that I’m an unrepentant asshole. Nothing should be coming as a shock at this point.

“Yesterday,” I say carefully. “She came home when I was packing your things.”

“It happened in person?” She sits forward. “Did you tell her why?”

“Yes.” My throat constricts. God, this explanation is going to require me to hurt Maisy, isn’t it? Yes. It is. Because I promised honesty. I told her no more lies and now I just have to hope that when this conversation is over, she can sort through my steaming rubble and find a man she can tolerate beyond two more days. “Maisy, I went into her room and found a one-way plane ticket to Belize. And money. Taped under her desk. I’m…sorry, angel.”

A beat passes. “Oh,” she whispers, a line forming between her brows. “What happened to all of it? The ticket and the money?”

“It’s in my safe now.”

“You took it?” Her voice raises an octave. “Took it all? And fired her?”

Here it comes.

“She was going to abandon you.” By the time I hear the chill in my tone, it’s too late to do anything about it. “She lied. Neglected you on purpose.”

“That might be true, but you could have asked me. We could have talked about how to handle this.” Her eyes search the surface of the table. “She’s my mother!”

“And that makes her special? Immune to consequences?”

She throws up her hands. “Kind of. Yes. Don’t you have a mother?”

“No. I don’t.”

Maisy flinches. “Oh, Jack…” A moment passes while she