Surrender Your Love (12 page)

I was all for equality. I just had value
s. Was that so wrong? Maybe it was time to push my old-fashioned values aside.

Jett
stood and pulled me up, wrapping his arms around my waist. We were so close his hot breath lingered an inch away from my mouth, singing my skin. “What are you afraid of?” he whispered.

You. This.

The fact that I had never felt this much lust for anyone in my entire life. Sure I got horny like everyone else, but the want currently consuming me wasn’t natural. It was sinful, naughty,
scary.

“
Let me show you what real sex is like,” Jett whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Let me make you come like you’ve never come before.”

Oh, god.

I opened my mouth to speak and in my head there was this long list of points that needed negotiation. My imaginary speech was elaborate and articulate, yet the only word that made it out was a simple and choked, “Yes.”

I don’t know how I made it through the ‘talk’ without fainting from sheer mortification and growing arousal, as Jett started negotiating the things he wanted to do to me and some of which he expected in return. The expectations were pretty sketchy because, to put it in his own words, he left them to my imaginatio
n
which, to be honest, was already running wild. I had never met someone who could talk about sex so openly and in such a controlled yet sexy manner. Maybe it was his deep, rumbling voice, or the details he seemed so happy to discuss, but by the time we finished the ‘talk’ I was so turned on, I couldn’t wait to get started.

In the end I picked up the contract on my way back from the restroom
, and we talked some more until we decided to give it a two-month trial run, see how it went, and take it from there. By the time we had eaten our dessert, a delicious tiramisu Jett said was bought at a pannetteria, we had also finished the wine bottle and had drunk our way through half of the second. The kitchen was spinning, the cabinets had become a big white blur, and my glass seemed to be constantly empty while his never seemed to empty at all.

“
I think I’m drunk.” I giggled as I tried to stand and miserably failed, falling back into my chair. How much time had passed? It seemed as though we had been talking for hours.

Jett
smiled, though I couldn’t really tell with all the spinning. It might have just as well been a smirk. “You’re not much of a drinker, huh?”

I tried to shake my head, signaling that I wasn
’t indeed, but the motion didn’t bode well with my stomach.

“
I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, shame burning through me. I didn’t mean to drink the whole bottle. It must have been my nerves.

Seriously, Steward, how can you get that drunk in front of your boss
…twice?

Maybe it was that sea
food. It was a bit salty and made me thirsty, but that I wouldn’t tell him. He was the first man who cooked for me. He deserved my respect and praise.

“
Let’s get you some fresh air,” Jett said. His arms traveled around my waist to steady me as he guided me through the hall and out onto the balcony.

The night sky was pitch black with a million stars sparkling like tiny diamonds. He sat
onto a recliner and pulled me onto his lap. My ass settled against his crotch and I instantly froze. The drunken bubble around me lifted, maybe from the cold air that rustled the leaves and stirred the water shimmering in the moonlight. Or maybe it was his hot and heavy breath on my neck that made me realize this was it. We had signed the contract and now he wanted to seal it.

Jett
’s hand moved up my abdomen but instead of the fondling I expected, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back against his chest until his heat seeped into my clothes, warming me up.

“
Feeling better?” he whispered.

I nodded.

“Then relax.”

His words were a sharp command, which I didn
’t dare ignore. Taking a mouthful of fresh air, I ordered my muscles to relax and my mind to clear.

“
When I fuck you I want you to remember each and every kiss, every moan, every scream, every sensation about the way I feel inside of you,” Jett whispered. His arms tightened around me as he moved his crotch against my jeans. The coarse material rubbed through my wet panties against my swollen folds, making me ache with desire. My heartbeat accelerated and the tender buds of my breasts tightened.

Leaning into him, I trailed my fingertips up his shirt and brushed my lips against his.
His mouth tasted of wine and
him
. The cloud in my head lifted as my pulse spiked with desire.

“
Obviously you’re intoxicated, Brooke, and I’m not going to risk you not remembering half of what we’d be doing,” Jett continued. “I’m not going to take you tonight. You’re safe…for now.”

His deep, dark voice
sent a pulsating sensation between my legs, and in that instant I regretted drinking so much.

“The Lucazzone files,” Jett said, tossing a thick blue file on top of my desk. The sound travelled all the way from my ears into my brain, causing a few neuron fibers to fire up pain in the process.

And dammit
, did he have to shout like that? Or look so damn yummy when all I wanted was to roll into a ball to die?

I shot him a desperate glance.
“I’ll have a look at it.” As soon as I can keep my eyes open without flinching from the glaring light flooding in through the high bay window.

“
I need you to familiarize yourself with it, but don’t take too long.” Jett’s brows burrowed into the sexiest frown I had ever seen. “The owner’s health is deteriorating. We want his estate before—” He trailed off, leaving the rest to my imagination.

I
knew what he was about to say.

Before the old man kicked the bucket.

“Have you made an offer yet?”

“
Only about twenty in the past ten years.” Jett’s expression darkened. I sensed a hint of the wrong kind of determination and couldn’t shake off the feeling Mayfield Realties’s reputation was well earned. The Lucazzone estate was their latest acquisition-to-be, and I was about to be dragged into Mayfield’s strange work ethics, which apparently included not giving up on a project even if that meant trying to change the opinion of an old man who clearly didn’t want to sell.

“
Ten years, huh?” I bit my lip, forcing myself to keep my mouth shut, and managed to do so for all of three seconds. “Maybe he loves that house and doesn’t want to part with it.” My gaze traveled up to meet Jett’s gaze tentatively. He measured me up and down, probably considering whether to tell me off for expressing my opinion when I was a mere employee.

Eventually he just sighed and inched closer. His fingers clutched my chin and forced my head up
as his dark eyes descended into my soul. “Look, Brooke, I appreciate your input, but this isn’t Sunrise Properties, and I don’t really have a choice. The board members want that estate, and I’m the one who has to make it happen. It’s either getting the old man to sign, or be kicked out of my own company.” His lips trailed down the left side of my face to my ear. “You smell good,” he whispered, his hot breath grazing my skin.

An involuntary shiver of pleasure traveled all the way down into my panties. I held my breath
, but a low moan escaped my throat nonetheless, betraying my unsolicited state of arousal. Jett peeled his lips off my earlobe and put a few inches between us, grinning. “I have to make some calls. Catch you later?”

Holy mother of hell, he had noticed.
What gave me away this time?

“
Yeah, sure,” I grumbled, and looked away—mortified.

“
You know I’d help you out if I weren’t too busy. You could ask me to stay and I might be able to squeeze you into my tight schedule.” Jett trailed a finger down the nape of my neck, circling the spot where the tip of my ponytail touched my naked skin. His touch was so tender, yet sensual, it sent another jolt through me.

I wanted him. Bad
ly. But right now I also wanted him to go away so I could gather some self-control to do my work and stop being so unbelievably horny. This whole thing, whatever it was that just made me feel so attracted to him, had to be reined in because it was taking up all space in my head.

“
I’ll get the file back to you ASAP.” My tone ended up harsher than intended. His finger flinched away from me and he put a few inches between us. I ignored the sudden urge to reach for his hand and tell him that I didn’t mean to be so abrupt.

“
I’ll be upstairs in my private office. Second door to the right.” He barely looked at me as he turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

I breathe
d out, relieved, and yet not quite able to feel at ease. I doubted I’d ever feel relaxed with Jett in the same room, or with him in the same house. The guy was a mystery. One moment he picked up a drunken woman from a bar and ended up naked in her bed; the next he claimed he didn’t take advantage of women under the influence of alcohol. For some reason I had believed him last night when we were sitting outside on the balcony, right before he helped me get into bed, barely touching me in the process. Either he was inventing and changing his own rules as we moved along, or he was playing some sordid game pursuing the incentive of—

What
incentive would that be, Brooke?

I had signed the contract and was willing to sleep with him. What else could he possibly want?

Groaning, I shook my head at my own thoughts. It had always been like this. Whenever a guy I liked showed the slightest bit of interest in me, I couldn’t take it at face value, and my brain concocted some morbid story about everything else he might want from me: attention, getting over an ex, easily available sex. Never just me. I thought they couldn’t possibly want me for who I was. In the end I always ran, and ended up with someone like Sean, an emotionally unavailable narcissist who’d dump everything and anyone as soon as he saw a benefit elsewhere.

At least Jett was honest and didn
’t pretend to have feelings that weren’t there. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I stop looking behind a guy’s intentions and just enjoy his attention? Was it because I still couldn’t trust a guy after all that happened in the past?

Opening the Lucazzone file, I gulped down a glass of water to get rid of the dry sensation in my mouth
, and focused on the task at hand. Alessandro Lucazzone, the current owner, was one of the most well-known and respected men in the area. He inherited the Lucazzone estate, including hundreds of miles of vineyards, forests, and fields, from his father who in turn inherited it from his father, and so forth. The estate had been handed down from generation to generation for centuries, withstanding revolutions and recessions. The Lucazzone family hadn’t always been rich. A few times they lost most of their money in bad investments and gambling, but they always bounced back from their financial hardships, usually by marrying a rich spouse. Alessandro Lucazzone had managed to keep the estate in order and the vineyards thriving through World War II with the help of his wife’s money. He and Maria had no children, and when she died of cancer he never remarried. At ninety-seven the old man was dying, leaving no apparent heirs behind. According to Jett’s research, the estate would fall into the hands of local charities, and I couldn’t help but feelthey deserved the money. They could certainly put the grounds to better use than Mayfield Properties
.
Besides, it felt wrong to tamper with the possibly last wish of an old man who seemed to believe in a good cause.

Taking
a sip of my lukewarm coffee, I almost choked on it as I flicked the next page, finally realizing why my boss would be so interested in a remote estate in Italy where the price of acquisition and upkeep made no sense in terms of profit. My fingers slowly traced the jagged contours on the map. The west side was situated around a private lake about the size of Lake Geneva, with mountain views surrounded by untouched nature. Combine that with the sunny Mediterranean weather, a clean beach, and lots of privacy—and you had prime real estate ready to cater to the rich and famous.

I pulled out the architectural plan and shook my head in disbelief.
Mayfield Properties was planning to build ten homes: each a five-room, three-bath, mansion-like holiday home, with ground to ceiling glass windows overlooking the shoreline and mountains in the distance. Each property would boast a large tiled hallway, a lounge, dining room, study, several bedrooms with walk-in closets, and bright open-plan kitchen and living areas. They would have a private garage, a swimming pool, a security system worthy of the White House, and a level of privacy ensured by high gates to protect the owners from prying eyes. Basically, they were about to rebuild the Hollywood Hills amidst the Italian countryside. Another oasis for the rich and famous. Given that the Italian government wasn’t known for their cooperation, it was an ambitious project. However, a multi-million dollar corporation like Mayfield Properties always finds a way. No doubt about that.