Page 67 of Worth Every Game
“I want to help you,” he says when I don’t reply.
I cock a brow. “Another pep talk?”
Jack huffs and rubs a hand over the scruff on his jaw. “The last one went down so well, thought I’d try again. What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.”
I don’t know why, but the wordpunishmenthas my veins steaming. The effect he has on me is unprecedented. I’m spinning from annoyed to aroused and back again like I’m in orbit, and the effort it takes to pretend I’m unmoved is leechingmy energy. “What’s your agenda? Is this so you can get in my pants?”
He chuckles. “No. Well, not entirely.”
“Why, then?”
“Because you’re ridiculously talented, but you aren’t positioning yourself for success. You’re underperforming.”
My spine straightens.How dare he.
Jack scans my face. “You think I’ve just insulted you, don’t you?”
Fuck.The man is a mind reader.“Sort of.”
He points a finger at me. “That right there is where you’re going wrong. Your mind is primed for insults. You’re expecting them. You have to flip the script.” He sighs. “If you won’t have dinner with me as a date, then let me take you out to talk about your career instead.”
“We can talk about my career right here.”
“Out is more fun.” I tut and shake my head—always after the fun—but Jack is undeterred. “I might not be a musician, but I do know a thing or two about getting ahead.”
I pause, trying to sink into my body and work out how I feel about this. But all I come up with is,this sounds like another game.And no matter how much I’m pretending I don’t want to play with Jack Lansen, I absolutely do.
“Sure,” I agree, and Jack grins so wide it makes me want to kiss that fantastic mouth of his again, and thoughts of all the wonderful things he could do with it drop into my mind in a slideshow of temptation.
He taps the kitchen work surface with one hand, snapping me out of my fantasies. “Great. Tonight.”
His decisiveness has nervous laughter spilling from my mouth. “You don’t waste time. What if I have plans?”
“Do you?”
“No,” I concede.
“Then let me take you out.”
I want to disagree because seeing him get his own way and look so smug about it is infuriating. But instead, I blurt, “No blow jobs. No kissing.”
My heart thrums, and the realisation hits me all at once.I don’t want him to think I’m just another slut who’ll get on her knees for him.I’m trying to claw my way back to some idealistic version of chastity, as if that would make him want me more. There’s me thinking I could be all sexually liberated with Jack, but social conditioning has done a fucking number on me.
Jack’s brows shoot up at the same time as his lips tug up at the edges. He places his hands on his heart and says, “You’re crushing my dreams here, El.”
My stomach dips like the damn thing is swooning. “Let’s keep it to my career,” I say calmly, as if kissing and blow jobs, and the idea that they might feature in Jack’s dreams, doesn’t turn me on.
“Sure. But just so you know, I still want to kiss you.”
All the air in my lungs escapes in a gasp, making Jack bite his lip with his perfect teeth.
“You’re not making this easy,” I mutter. “We need rules so this thing doesn’t go off the rails.”
“I love that you think we’re still on the rails.” He reaches out, and before I can stop him, his thumb grazes my cheek as he runs his hand down my face, leaving a trail of blazing heat.
He knows exactly what he’s doing, and my boundaries are so flimsy, he can push right past them. I’m tilting towards him, leaning into his hand.Hopeless.
His fingers fall away, but his eyes are trained on me, and amusement flits across his gaze. As it almost always does. “We’ll leave at seven,” he instructs. “Be ready.”