“He was picking up the rest of his stuff,” she answered stiffly.
“Oh, I thought…” I began.
“Well, you’re an ass,” she cut in and sighed deeply. “He wants to get back together but I said no. Again. He’s already gone.”
I pounded my fist triumphantly on the steering wheel. “Okay. Okay, good. Sophia is supposedly bringing Alex Kavon in for the meeting tomorrow at ten. Will you be there?” I asked.
“Of course. Can’t wait to meet the guy everyone is putting the future of the magazine on,” she said dryly.
“Lex…Lex…If we get Kavon, I’ll take a look at your work, but I can’t promise you anything, okay?”
“Good night, Mr. Holt.”
Then she hung up on me.
22
Lexa
“There is seriously no way of ever knowing how many chameleons you are surrounded by at any given time, just sitting and watching you.” @Kavon #ICanHearYouBreathing
I sat on my couch alone. Alone. I just shoved Trager out the front door with five boxes of the shitty little life he pretended to build with me. He put on a little show for Holt and I’m not ashamed to say, I liked the way Holt’s eyes narrowed at us. It was juvenile to lead James to believe I could be interested in having Trager’s arms around me again, but I was an emotional wreck. I wanted to see him jealous. I wanted him to sting a bit. I wanted him to fight for me. But of course, nothing like that happened. No duel for the fair maiden. He let me direct him to the door and close it in his face. Then he just left. And so did Trager after he valiantly offered me one last time to patch things up. So I sat, utterly alone in the apartment Trager and I once shared, curled into the pillows no one leans on now but me. The silence was suffocating.
I dragged myself to the bedroom and popped an Ambien into my mouth. Within fifteen minutes, I was out cold, dreaming about the smell of Jameson’s skin and the sound of his rumbling laughter.
My phone chimed the minute I stepped foot into my office.
This should be good—more heartache. I must be a glutton for punishment because I turned right out of my office and directly up to his.
As soon as I stepped out of the elevator car, I slammed into a hard body and stumbled back. Jameson Holt yanked me up from falling flat on my ass—his hard, heavy hands clamped themselves around my waist and held me tight. I let out a small gasp. Not because I was scared or shocked to bump into someone.
It was because his hands were on me, burning holes through my skin and permanently singeing their prints into the flesh; and he was practically dragging me into his office.
I couldn’t look at him. I covered my face with my hands and prayed he’d let me go. Please just let me go. “James, what—” I stopped midsentence, my breath yanked from my throat when he pulled my mouth roughly against his.
Warmth spread across my chest and the tips of my fingers tingled with fire.
I fell into his kiss, completely losing my mind to the way his tongue dipped inside my mouth. “Missed you, Lex. Missed you so much.”
There was nothing to do but kiss him back. I wanted him, so completely. I couldn’t say no; the word was wiped from my mind when it came to Jameson.
A deep growl escaped from his mouth as his hands quickly shoved my skirt up my thighs and lifted my bottom up onto his desk. Every nerve ending across my body ignited on fire. He pressed his palms hard along the inside of my inner thighs, sending electric pulses of need right to my core. I ached for him and parted my legs open wide.
“Yes,” he hissed. “Spread your legs wide. Are you wet for me?”
“Come and find out,” I said, making quick work of his buckle.
His fingers instantly found the lace edge of my panties and he dipped them under the fabric as he let out a ragged breath. “So wet.”
He yanked the lace away roughly and a cool breeze puckered against my bare flesh. My body ached for him. I wanted to feel him stretch me out and fill me up. I groaned loudly as he thrust three fingers deep inside me.
His forehead pressed against mine as he fucked me hard with his fingers—his thumb circling my clit.
I was so close to coming I fumbled crazily with his zipper until I pulled his dick out and rubbed it around my entrance. “Fuck, Lex, Fuck,” he panted. “I’m going to shove my cock and my fingers in you at the same time.” His breathing was heavy, his words panted out like I was making him absolutely breathless. “You want it? You want me to spread you open, baby?”
“Yes. Please. James,” I begged. God, he felt amazing. The quick strokes of his fingers and the pressure on my clit—made me about to explode.
“Lex,” he mumbled as he pressed the head of his cock alongside his fingers.
Instantly, I was clenching around him, pushing him inside me harder and faster. I was so close. So close. Then he began slamming into me—fingers and cock—and the sensation was intense. He buried his face in my neck and bit into my shoulder, cursing out filthy words that made me wetter and wetter and spiraling closer and closer to coming.
But hard raps on the other side of his office door stopped us mid-thrust. I was so close to coming my muscles clenched at him desperately. I needed him to move, just a few more times and I’d explode. I didn’t want to stop. It felt too good.
The knocking continued. “Jameson, it’s me. Open up.” His father’s voice was deep and demanding.
“Shit,” James swore, pulling out of me, leaving me empty and hollow. I clenched my legs together; the pressure between them still so intense I had to squeeze my eyes shut tightly and remember to breathe.
“Fix your skirt,” James grunted, shoving himself back inside his pants and fixing his belt. “Hurry,” he demanded.
Dizzy and panting, I straightened my skirt and blouse then stifled a giggle. God, we were like two horny teenagers unable to stop ourselves. It was so hot and dirty I wanted to rub myself through my skirt and have him watch me come before he opened the door. My whole body felt as if it were floating somewhere high along the ceiling.
“James? What’s going on?” his father’s presence filled up the room before I could find solid ground.
“Nothing,” James shrugged, “I was just going over a small matter with Miss Novak. Nothing important.”
My chest squeezed violently with his words, as if he’d punched them out right into my solar plexus.
Remington Holt’s eyes scanned James’s office—darted over all the objects and papers, seeming to look for something and came up empty. He barely glanced in my direction—like I was just some decorative potted plant in the middle of the office. Then his eyes narrowed and his hand pointed to everything but me. “Why isn’t your office empty?”
“Pop,” he said in a low voice, “this isn’t a good time to talk about this—”
“It’s not a good time? What are you talking about? I needed you in California two weeks ago. We agreed that you would take over as Editor in Chief there.”
My chest burned and I clutched at it, grasping onto the middle of my shirt and twisting it tightly in my fist. He was moving to California? To head the offices for Holt Media? I couldn’t breathe.
“You’re moving to California?” I whispered.
James’s jaw clenched tightly and I focused solely on it, not being able to meet his eyes.
“Yes,” he said coldly.