Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1) Read online

  It surprised me to realize that Jamison King, golden god of our school, felt like as much of an outsider as I did growing up in our small, secluded town. Soon, we weren’t just sharing books, we were meeting in the gazebo to talk about our newfound common ground. We’d sit for hours, geeking out about the latest Lord of the Rings movie or Harry Potter book. During those brief windows of time, all our animosity was forgotten. We entered into a fleeting truce each time we met here at the gazebo, a name-calling cease fire. But the second we returned to our real lives, it was understood that we’d never mention our meetings—not to each other, and certainly not to anyone else.

  “Thanks for never blowing my cover,” Jay says now, as I lower the lid of the bench. “My reputation would have been shot to shit if anyone found out I was as a big a nerd as you.”

  “You’re welcome? I think?” I reply, perching on the edge of the bench as Jamison sits down beside me.

  Once upon a time, this seat was more than big enough for me and tow-headed little Jay. But now that Jay is anything but little, there’s barely room for us on this narrow bench. His muscled arm brushes against my own bare skin, sending a pulse of warmth rolling through my body. I glance up at him in the low light, bringing my honey brown eyes to his. He shifts his weight, letting his strong arm wrap around my slight form. As if magnetized, my body draws closer to his, craving the feel of him against me. Whatever qualms my mind may have with Jamison as a person, my body has never been confused when it comes to his.

  A loud, raucous bellow rings out from the King house as someone cranks up the volume on the music. The spell between Jay and I is broken for the briefest moment, and I rise quickly to my feet, crossing to the far side of the gazebo. My heart hammers against my ribcage, as if trying to escape. God knows, I might be better off without it right now. Despite everything I know about Jay and his high school playboy ways, my heart has always held out hope for him. It’s crazy to think that way. Absolutely insane.

  And absolutely unshakeable.

  “You should get back to the house before they burn it down,” I say to Jamison, crossing my arms once more.

  “I’m not too worried about it,” he tells me, rising to his feet. His voice has dropped low in his chest, and his blue eyes are locked on my flushed face.

  “No?” I reply, trying and failing to keep my voice breezy.

  “No,” he asserts, shoving a hand through his dark blonde hair, “As of tomorrow, I’m off to Boston. This is the last night I have to even think about this place.”

  “You’re leaving? Already?” I exclaim before I can stop myself.

  “Gotta go and get a lay of the land. Meet the team. Start training,” Jay says, his voice rasping at the edges, “And let me tell you, the last thing I want to do before I go is spend another second with those assholes up at the house.”

  “Those assholes are your friends, aren’t they?” I laugh, surprised by his declaration.

  “Yeah. Right,” he scoffs, “If ‘friendship’ means using me for my family’s bank account, then sure.”

  “I’m sure they’re not all like that,” I try and reason, feeling the blood rush to my head as Jamison comes to a stop before me.

  “They are,” he assures me, planting a hand on the wooden beam beside me, “There’s only ever been one person in this fucking town who’s ever been a friend to me.”

  “…Oh?” I breathe, overwhelmed by the nearness of him, “And who’s that?”

  “You, stupid,” he laughs, a wide grin erupting across his gorgeous face. “I’m talking about you.”

  “Gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel special,” I shoot back, giving him a playful shove. But as my hands press against the firm planes of his chest, I can’t help but let them linger for just a second too long. Before I can withdraw my touch, Jay brings his hands firmly to my hips, rustling the white fabric of my full skirt. The laughter hanging in the air between us gives way to earnestness. We can’t hold the moment at bay any longer.

  “I came out here looking for you, you know,” Jay murmurs, circling his arms around my waist. “I don’t know how, but I just knew you’d be here. Waiting for me.”

  “I wasn’t waiting for you,” I insist, even as I let my hands trail down his bare chest.

  “Fine,” he smiles, his blue eyes boring into mine, “But you can’t tell me that part of you wasn’t hoping I’d show up, too.”

  “Maybe,” I allow, savoring the sturdy, immovable feel of his body. “But why wait for your last night in town to come looking for me? I’ve been right next door this whole time, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he says firmly, pulling my hips flush against him, “That’s my only excuse, Leah. But trust me, I’ve kept my eye on you.”

  “That doesn’t really cut it,” I tell him, “After all this time—”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing now? Making up for all that time?” he presses, tucking a lock of red hair back behind my ear.

  I stare up at him in the darkness, every inch of my body lit up with wanting him. God knows he’s not the only guy I’ve wanted in my life. But never have I felt like denying myself a taste of someone would be enough to drive me insane. Since the time I started noticing boys that way, Jamison has been the standard bearer of male beauty in my mind. I just never thought I’d actually get a chance to act on that feeling. But now…

  “Where’s that flask?” I ask him, my voice low and lusty.

  His firm lips pull into a grin as he lifts the silver vessel from his pocket once more. I take a long, eager swallow of the scotch, savoring the burn in the back of my throat. Handing the flask back to Jamison, I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders as he takes a slug and lets the container fall to the ground with a clatter.

  “So you’ve really wanted me all along?” I smile, hooking my hands behind his neck.

  “You’re fucking right I did,” he growls, running his hands up along my back. “You too?”

  “Yeah, me too…” I murmur, “I just thought it was part of our game, not admitting it.”

  “Well,” he laughs, “If that was the game, I guess I lost.”

  “You mean you guess I beat you,” I tease, ever the competitor.

  “Just this once,” he says, catching my face in his hands, “I’m happy to let you have it.”

  My breath catches in my throat as Jamison brings his lips firmly to mine. I catch his kiss earnestly, pressing myself to him as our lips meet for the first time. For years I’ve been wondering what this might feel like, taste like… But I never would have been able to dream this up. I let my mouth fall open to his as he wraps his arms around the small of my back. Our tongues sweep against each other as the novelty of finally touching gives way to urgent need.

  Raking my fingers along his bare back, I moan softly as I feel his cock pressed hard against me. He lets me feel the full strength of his want, grinding his hips against mine as he kisses me hard and deep. Our kiss tastes like scotch, and summer, and years of waiting as I give myself over to this long overdue moment. Jay’s hands run down my slender slides, brushing over the swell of my breasts beneath the starched linen of my dress. I feel my nipples go hard as he runs this thumbs over them, sending a deep pang of need ringing out in my core.

  “Jesus, Leah…” he groans, as I let my hands drop down to that hardness between his legs, “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”

  “I think I can feel how sexy you think I am,” I grin breathlessly, running my hands all along that impressive length. Nothing but the thin fabric of his trunks is holding that staggering desire in check. But I’m not sure how much longer they can do the trick.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not turned on too” he murmurs, closing his eyes as I play with the waistband of his swimsuit.

  “Oh, I am,” I promise, feeling a sweet pressure building between my legs.

  “I want to feel turned on you are,” he breathes, kissing along my neck, “Can I?”

  “
God yes,” I gasp, all the more excited by his asking.

  My knees begin to tremble as I feel his fingertips brushing up along my inner thigh. Clinging onto his shoulders, I catch my breath as I feel him push aside the thin cotton of my panties, drawing his fingers all along my pulsating sex. He sucks in a quick breath as he feels just how wet I am for him. How ready.

  “See?” I breathe, barely able to remain standing as he strokes my pink flesh.

  “Fucking right I do,” he murmurs, backing me up against the railing as he holds me tightly against him.

  I grab hold of the weathered wood beams, steadying myself as he lets his fingertips roll across the aching nub of my clit. Christ, he knows what he’s doing. My mouth falls open in amazement as he works me over, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting all through my body. This isn’t my first time ever being with a guy, but it’s sure as hell the first time it’s been so damn good.

  “You like that?” he murmurs in my ear, his soft lips brushing against my cheek.

  “God yes,” I breathe, bringing my mouth back to his.

  He lets his tongue glide into my mouth as he slips two strong fingers inside of me. The doubled sensation nearly levels me, leaves me teetering on the edge of bliss.

  “Oh my god…” I gasp, grabbing hold of his shoulders, “I’m…I’m so…”

  “I know,” he says, holding me close as he pulses his fingers against that sweet spot inside of me, laying his thumb flush against my clit as he goes. “Just let go, Leah…”

  As if I needed any prompting. The sensation that’s been brimming to overflowing spills out through every inch of my body, flooding me with warmth and light. I come under Jay’s masterful touch, amazed at my own response. No one’s ever made me orgasm like this…well, no one that isn’t pocket-sized and battery operated, that is.

  As the feeling passes through me, I lift my amazed face back to his. He grins down at me, pleased to please me.

  “How’s that for making the most of our last night?” he asks, sliding his hands over the rise of my ass.

  “Well…” I breathe, stepping out of my underwear altogether, “It’s a start.”

  His eyes gleam as I bring my hands back to the waistband of his trunks, tugging them down over his finely sculpted ass and toned thighs. As I ease them down his legs, I see the corner of a condom wrapper peeking out from his back pocket. I like a guy who’s always prepared. I swallow hard as his cock springs free, amazed to see that he’s grown even harder. I take his member in my hands, working them along his shaft. The pulsating length of him in my eager grasp makes one thing perfectly clear to me: we’re not leaving here until we’ve had each other in exactly the way we’ve wanted to for so, so long.

  “Hold on,” he murmurs, stepping away for just a second to grab the soft towel from the gazebo railing.

  As he turns away for the briefest of moments, I can see his cock standing straight out at attention, very much as the ready. While Jamison lays out the towel for us on the well-worn gazebo floor, I carefully ease down the zipper of my dress, draping it lovingly over the railing behind me. The tight bodice makes wearing a bra beneath unnecessary, so when Jamison and I turn back to each other, it’s without a stitch of clothing between us.

  “Leah…” he murmurs, shaking his head, “You’re—”

  “Come here,” I reply, taking a step toward him.

  At the same moment, we each step forward onto the towel. Our bodies come together, as we wrap each other up once more in an urgent, fervid embrace. If this is going to be our one and only night together, we’re sure as hell going to make it count.

  ***

  The sky over the bay is just lightening from gray to blue when I finally open my eyes. Blinking up at wooden rafters overhead, it takes me a moment to remember where I am. The morning is quiet and calm, undisturbed this early in the day. I pull myself onto one elbow, glancing all around me as my head throbs insistently. My eyes fall upon the abandoned silver flask, the pile of hastily gathered towels and blankets wrapped around me, my abandoned dress hanging over the gazebo railing.

  “Oh, shit…” I whisper, sitting up like a shot.

  Last night comes ringing back into my mind’s eye all at once. Jamison appearing out of thin air beside me, the sensation of his hands on my bare skin, the way it felt to have him sink into me, at long last. Only, there’s no one to share in the morning-after glow. Jamison King is nowhere to be seen. I’m all alone out here, naked beneath the layers he fetched for us the night before. He was right beside me as we fell into a tipsy, spent sleep. But now…?

  I try not to let disappointment set in as I hurriedly step back into my clothes, hoping that no one happens upon me as I do. What did I expect? Breakfast in bed? This is Jamison we’re talking about. He doesn’t have a schmaltzy bone in his body. Of course he woke up this morning and peaced the hell out. I’m sure it wasn’t personal.

  “Who are you kidding?” I mutter to myself, zipping up my white dress once more, “What could be more personal than this?”

  I can’t pretend that it doesn’t matter to be, being ditched after last night. We were so connected just hours ago, and not just physically. It was like we were really seeing each other again, like we were alone in the world and free to be ourselves for once. Was that all that bullshit on his part? Because I, for one, meant what I said. Every word of it.

  Maybe I just dreamed the whole thing? I think to myself, stepping lightly down the gazebo steps and hopping onto my yellow bike. But as I settle onto the seat and take off down the path, I can’t deny the pleasant soreness between my legs. Last night was real, all right. And I don’t regret it for a moment. After years of skirting around the issue, Jay and I were finally honest about how we felt. At least, as honest as Jamison King is capable of being.

  My auburn hair billows out behind me as I pedal toward home, racing the rising sun. I have to get back before my dad wakes up. He’d never believe that I spent the night partying with the cool kids, after all. Though I myself can scarcely believe how I actually spent the night. But with Jay shipping off to Boston today without a word of goodbye, maybe I’d be better off putting it out of mind.

  I make a vow to myself, as I race homeward, to never take a guy like Jamison King at his word again, no matter how earnest he seems. Guys like him are fine for a night, but their pretty words have a way of burning away like dew in the light of day…That doesn’t mean I can’t still daydream about how good the sex was, though. As if I could stop myself if I tried.

  Chapter One

  New York, NY

  Present Day

  “Pippa. Pippa! Slow down,” I say into my cell, trying to hail one of the many cabs soaring down Broadway.

  “Sorry Ms. Brody,” my assistant all but hyperventilates on the other end of the line, “I’m just a little f-flustered.”

  “A chewing out from the boss will do that,” I allow, rejoicing as a yellow cab finally pulls up to the curb before me. “Can you tell me again what he was angry about? Slowly?”

  “OK,” Pippa says, as my cab takes off toward Midtown, “You know that YA novelist Mr. King has been talking to lately? About optioning the movie rights to her books?”

  “Elsie Walker? Of course,” I reply, “Loudon’s been courting her for months. So what’s the issue?”

  “Well, it sounds like she’s wavering,” Pippa says anxiously, “Something about how an old white dude like Mr. King could never understand her vision?”

  I wince, imagining the look on Loudon King’s face upon being told off by a 24-year-old woman. I have to give to Elsie Walker—the girl knows what she wants. King Enterprises has been trying to acquire the rights to her dystopian YA trilogy, Huntress of Tomorrow, before anyone else does. Loudon’s even taken a personal interest in the acquisition, that’s how big a deal it is. But I should have known better than to let him talk to Elsie on his own. This may be his company, but he doesn’t exactly have a way with sensitive writerly types. That’s my field of expertise.
/>   “OK. I’m on my way into the office now,” I tell Pippa, watching the New York landscape fly by, “Just tell Mr. King that I’m on it, OK?”

  “All right…” Pippa says hesitantly, “I’ll try to keep him calm.”

  I hang up the call, laughing softly to myself. The frantic tone of Pippa’s voice reminds me of how nervous I was when I first started out as an assistant at King Enterprises six years ago. I was fresh out of grad school, and beyond grateful to Loudon King for finding me a place in his entertainment juggernaut. I didn’t even mind the fact that it was an entry level position, I was just happy to be able to jump right into the fray. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of sharing my history with Mr. King in the break room my first day. The response from my co-workers was, shall I say, less than gracious.

  “So your parents were like, his servants?”

  “Oh, then this is like a pity hiring.”

  “What are you, his secret love child?”

  And those were the tame comments. I should have known that my big city co-workers would be anything but impressed by my background, Harvard education or no. But instead of being ashamed or backpedaling, I chose instead to own my history, work hard, and show that I belonged at King Enterprises every bit as much as the rest of them.

  And you know what? It worked. I spent the next half-dozen years rising through the ranks of the company, being mentored by Loudon King himself. Neither of his kids has ever shown an interest in the family business, so I get the full benefit of his expertise. I also occasionally have to listen to him vent about his children: Cordelia, who married some hedge fund asshole but still expects an allowance from her parents, and Jamison, who’s off being a big time sports star and can’t spare the time of day for the people who raised him.

  “Oh my god,” I mutter, as my cab idles under a gigantic billboard featuring the smiling face of, who else, Jamison King.

  I should be used to seeing his mug around by now, given the fact that it’s literally everywhere in this city, but it still gives me a little jolt every time. Jay rocketed to fame after he was drafted to the NHL straight out of college, bouncing around from team to team like a pinball before finally landing on the New York Rangers for the better part of his career… his short-lived career, I should say. Jamison’s habit of getting into brutal fistfights and generally playing the game as a full-body contact sport led to one too many head injuries. After being diagnosed with post-concussion syndrome after last season, Jay was forced to hang up his skates at the relatively young age of thirty.