I drum my fingers on the bar.

  What is taking so long?

  Fine, it’s only been a few minutes. Still. I want my man.

  I mean, I want Jackson.

  The door snicks open. I rub my thumb and forefinger together, hoping it went well.

  Jackson strides in and shuts the door, his gaze roving over me. A grin curves his lips, and just like that, relief flows through me.

  “Are you staying the night with me?” I ask.

  He arches a playful brow. “It’s going to cost you a pizza. That’s all the man wants.”

  “Some men are easy like that, evidently.” I head to the couch and flop down on it like I’ve tossed the weight of the world off my shoulders. And I have.

  Because I get this man for the rest of the night. Maybe for longer. Maybe a week.

  That’s what I want.

  The knot of tension skips off into the ether. Good riddance.

  Jackson joins me on the couch. As I grab the room service menu, I drape an arm around his shoulders. “This place has the best pizza I’ve had in ages.”

  He stares quizzically at my arm around him.

  I give him a what’s the big deal look. “What? I can’t put my arm around you while we call room service?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Did I say it bothered me?”

  “No. But you’re giving me a look like it bothers you.”

  “It’s literally the first time you’ve put your arm around my shoulder. I was just noticing it. Because that’s what I do. I notice things.”

  I tilt my head. “And what do you notice about it?”

  He pats my hand on his shoulder. “That I like it. Okay? I like your arm around me.”

  And my damn heart, it does some kind of jumping jack in my chest.

  I smile happily as I survey the pizza choices. “All right, let’s get the man a large pie. Think he wants mozzarella—”

  Jackson’s fingers dig into my side, and the bastard tickles me.

  Thump.

  The room service menu falls to the floor.

  “Stop, stop!” I beg, laughing as I fall back against the cushions, trying to escape.

  He chuckles as he tickles me more, and I fight like hell to wriggle away from him. Motherfucker is strong, though, and I can barely escape his tickling hand. “You dickhead. You were waiting for the moment to do that,” I say when he relents.

  He grins, his eyes wicked. “I was indeed, and it worked.”

  “I hope it was worth it.”

  “Absolutely worth it.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, but I can’t stay mad. I’m having a blast.

  We place the order for Cruz, and when I hang up the phone, Jackson looks down at my clothes. “You got dressed.”

  I shrug. “I put on lounge pants. Did you want me naked?”

  “Not gonna lie. I really like the way you look naked. But”—he tugs at the waistband of my lounge pants—“I like the way you look in these too. Casual sexy.”

  “We’re having a pajama party, so I had to put on my pj’s,” I say with a wink.

  “Do you want me to put mine on? I sleep naked.”

  I thrust both arms in the air. “Commando, for the win.”

  His expression turns serious. “So, I’m spending the night? For real?”

  “Um, yes. That’s what the whole pizza negotiation was about. Don’t back out now.”

  He smiles softly. “I won’t. I’m just kind of amazed.”

  My chest squeezes. “Me too. And I want you to stay the night, J. And not because I’m horny for you, though I absolutely am.”

  He grins.

  But I don’t return the smile. This is a chance to say something that matters. “I like being with you. It’s that simple.”

  A faint pink hue spreads across his cheeks.

  Whoa.

  I run my fingertip over the spot of color. “You just blushed.”

  He dips his head. “Sometimes I do that.”

  “Did I make you blush?”

  “Yeah, you did. It was nice. I liked it. All right? Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he mutters, and it’s adorable how he tries to deny that the heat in his cheeks is a big deal.

  It is a huge deal.

  But I’m not going to press. I’m simply going to enjoy this delicious detail about him.

  Jackson clears his throat and sets a hand on my knee. “What about your brother? You had a deal with him. What does this do to that deal?”

  “The deal,” I repeat, buying some time.

  Am I going to tell Jackson what the true stakes were? That Zane and I made a deal we wouldn’t fall in love?

  “Because you said earlier we were already involved,” Jackson says, and there’s my answer.

  I don’t have to tell him.

  I already said enough.

  But it feels good to let him know what he’s doing to me. “I do feel that way, J. I don’t know what it means. But I feel like there’s something going on here.” I meet his eyes, trying to read what he’s feeling.

  He takes a beat, running his hand up my thigh. “Yeah. Me too.” It comes out heavily.

  “What are we going to do with that?”

  He sighs, still touching my knee. “I don’t know. There’s so much at stake. And I don’t know if I’m . . .”

  I finish the thought for him, since I bet he’s thinking about Fabian. “Ready for anything more?”

  “Right,” he says quickly, then gives a casual shrug. “But hey, you’re probably not either, right? That’s not your style.”

  It hasn’t been my style, true. But my style is changing with him. Trouble is, I also don’t want to feel those nerves again. I don’t want to be made a fool.

  I spent enough time playing that role when I was growing up. Don’t need to now.

  I keep it cool.

  “Let’s make a deal between you and me, then.” A deal is so much easier than anything else. And besides, I shouldn’t take chances with things like love. Things I know nothing about. Foolish things I don’t have time for. “Let’s make a deal that we’re going to fuck each other’s brains out for the next seven days.”

  Jackson arches a brow. “You mean I’ll fuck your brains out.”

  I roll my eyes. “Do you ever let anyone top you?”

  He’s dead serious when he says, “Not often.”

  “Why not?”

  He blinks, like he’s thinking it over. “I suppose I like it that way. Same reason I like protecting people. I like taking care of people. And in bed, I like to be the one who makes sure everyone is happy. Everyone is having a good time.”

  The honesty in his answer hooks into my chest and shimmies around there.

  Settle down, heart. You’re in time-out.

  “And you know I’m having a blast. But if I wanted to top you ever, would you let me?”

  He pauses before he asks the next question. “Are you asking me right now?”

  I laugh, then shake my head. “I told you before, I don’t care. If you want to spend this entire week fucking me over and over again, I’m more than happy with that. I love the way you feel inside me.” I put that out there so he knows I’m 100 percent good with our roles in the bedroom.

  His hazel eyes shine with desire again. “I love being inside you.” He threads a hand through my hair, tugging on it. “But if you’re serious about topping me sometime, we can talk about that. I don’t want to be the kind of person who lays down the law and doesn’t bend.”

  He’s making it hard not to fall for him.

  Best to focus on the sex.

  Yep. That’s what I need to do.

  I slide my hand along his thigh, up to his crotch, and squeeze his dick. “Right now, I’m pretty happy with you laying down this law inside me.”

  “Good answer,” he says with a smile, but it disappears again. “The deal with your brother about not getting involved. You’re okay with throwing it to the wayside? I want to respect your deal if you want me to.”

  And there he goes again, making me like him so damn much.

  But there is no place for that. So, hell, it’s a damn good thing I have the deal. I intend to honor it.

  There is no way I’m going to let myself fall in love with Jackson Pearce, no matter how my heart feels around him. I’m not going to give it away for the first time ever to someone who’s unavailable to me.

  Because his heart’s still burned from his last romantic encounter.

  “Zane is cool. He’s doing a great job on the show. It’s all good.” I tap his chest. “And besides, you and me? We have unfinished business. We need to get this out of our systems, and that’s what we’ll do, right? Then we’ll move on.”

  He swallows, looks away, then answers quietly. “That’s it. We’ll move on. Should be fine, since you told me you don’t get serious.”

  “And you told me you don’t do hookups. But you also said you’re bending all your rules,” I say playfully, running my fingers along the buttons on his shirt. “So I guess you bent your hookup rule for me.”

  His grin is relaxed, easy. The opposite of how he was before he talked to Cruz. “You like being my first hookup, Stone?”

  That question nicks my heart. I don’t want to be his hookup. I want to be . . .

  I can’t go there. Can’t let myself think of what I want to be.

  So, I zero in on the physical. On the way he looks at me, the way he stares at me with that crooked grin. And yeah, I do like being his first hookup, but I also want as much of him as I can get. If all I’m getting is sex, though, I’m going to be so damn good with that. Besides, I’m really good at sex.

  “Speaking of,” I say, sliding my hand over his growing hard-on, “you want to hook up again now?”

  “Absolutely.” He pats his thighs. “How about on the couch?”

  I hum my approval. “You want me to ride you right here?”

  His eyes go glassy with desire. “Will that work for you?”

  “It’ll work great. Let me just go get some lube. How about you get your fine ass undressed while I’m gone?”

  I head to the bedroom, grab the lube, and bring it back, along with a condom.

  And hell.

  My breath catches at the sight in front of me. It’s like my birthday.

  He’s already naked, legs spread, looking like a gorgeous Greek god. “Told you I was going to ride your ride,” I say.

  “Hop on. Might get a little bumpy.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  In seconds, I shed my lounge pants and climb onto his lap. Grabbing the lube, he slides a hand under my dick, going straight for my ass, getting me ready. As he preps me, he strokes my cock, sending sparks across my whole body. And when he has me all good, he opens the condom wrapper, rolls the protection down his cock, and then holds out his dick for me.

  I stare at him, fire licking my veins. “Your dick is like a gift.”

  “Then take your gift, Stone. Take it, use it, play with it,” he says, all smoky and seductive.

  I rise up, drop down, and swallow his cock with my body.

  I hiss, groaning as I adjust to his size, savoring the stretch, the pull, and the intense pressure of him all the way inside me.

  Jackson fills me like I’ve never been filled before, and that wild sensation thrills me. Makes me harder, hornier.

  I run a hand down my cock, sliding my thumb over the head, then bringing my arousal to his lips, painting his bottom lip with my pre-come.

  “Mmmm. My favorite,” he murmurs, licking it off before he brushes his lips against mine, giving me a soft but hungry kiss.

  A kiss that makes me shiver.

  That turns me on even more.

  I show him how much. I rise up on his dick then lower myself as I slide my hand back down my shaft, squeezing the base of my cock, bringing another drop to the crown.

  His lips part, and I swear it’s like he’s begging for it. A harsh pant falls from his sexy mouth, and I give him another taste of me.

  He sucks on my thumb like he’s reveling in the flavor, then he ropes his hand around my head, hauls me in for a hot kiss, and grabs my ass with his other hand.

  His tongue strokes mine as he squeezes my flesh.

  We kiss like that—hot, needy—and I take my time riding his shaft.

  When our lips fall apart, he loops both hands around me, grabbing my ass, squeezing it as I move up and down on his cock. He lets me set the pace this time. This time, I want to. I want to top him from the bottom.

  I ride Jackson, finding a slow and easy rhythm, a sensual, luxurious one, my cock slapping against his hard, flat belly.

  With every roll of my hips, his breath comes harder.

  His jaw clenches tighter.

  His grip on me intensifies.

  And in seconds, I’m a furnace. I am broiling from this—from the realization once again, the intense awareness of what’s happening.

  That he’s fucking me.

  He’s not fucking Stone Zenith. He’s not sleeping with a Grammy winner. He’s not banging the guy who sang to a packed house tonight.

  He’s fucking the guy, not the name.

  And I can’t hold back. “Man, you love fucking me, don’t you?”

  Jackson growls, grabbing me harder. “So much . . .”

  I’m scorching everywhere from him. From how he talks to me. From how much I love it, how much I need it.

  I swivel my hips, clenching on his cock.

  His eyes slam shut. “Oh yeah, that feels soooo good.”

  I show him how good I can make him feel with the way I move. I demonstrate just how spectacular his first hookup can be. I want him to feel endless pleasure from me, with me, because of me. I rope my arms around his neck, rising up on his thick cock as I say, “I think you’re an ass man, Jackson Pearce.”

  Opening his eyes, he nods savagely. “I am. And your ass is fantastic.”

  I’ve got the key to his engine. And I’m going to keep cranking it. I thread my hands in his hair, working over his dick with my ass, with the way I ride him, how I take him. “Tell me everything you want to do to it. You want to smack it?”

  He grunts, raises a hand, swats my cheek, and I groan. Hell, we both groan. “Do it again,” I command.

  He raises his palm and smacks the other cheek, a sharp, hot swat.

  The pain electrifies me. Makes me moan. “Yes. Fucking yes.”

  Jackson lifts his hand again. Another swat. Another smack. And the world’s sexiest sounds fall from his lush lips.

  Moans and murmurs like I’ve never heard.

  I keep going, powering up and down on his cock. “You love fucking my ass. You love fingering my ass. I bet you want to bite it, nibble it, get your mouth all over it.”

  He shakes, his big, strong body shuddering beneath me.

  Yes. I’ve found his guilty pleasure.

  “I do. I really fucking do,” he grits out, like he’s living in a dirty dream.

  “I bet you want to taste me everywhere,” I say, teasing him.

  The expression on his gorgeous face is exquisite agony. I am winding him up, working him over.

  His lips part, but no sound comes out, except harsh pants. As words fail him, his actions speak loud and clear. He pumps up, thrusting harder and faster. His hand slides between us, gripping my cock ferociously.

  “That’s it. Stroke it out for me, J. Because I’m going to come so hard on you.”

  “All over me,” he orders.

  Like I’d do anything else.

  Pleasure rips through my body, a wild promise of ecstasy, as he jerks me hard, fast, expertly.

  Taking me to the edge.

  And I’m almost there as my orgasm crests.

  But before I fall, I leave him with one last filthy thought. “You can have me any way you want.”

  “Yes,” he growls, like an animal, and I am done.

  Pleasure barrels down my spine. Sparks sizzle over my skin. And a whirlwind of bliss drags me under.

  I explode on his chest, my come covering his pecs.

  Seconds later, he’s slamming me down on his hard cock, coming once more with one of the most feral groans I’ve ever heard.

  And I love them. My God, do I ever love those noises. The endless pants, moans, and satisfied sighs.

  And I love, too, the way he gentles after sex, how he rubs one big hand up my back. He’s rough and he’s tender at just the right times in just the right ways.

  He runs his other hand down his chest, through my release, and brings it to his mouth, sucking it off each finger. It’s so ridiculously sexy, like everything about him.

  “Let’s get cleaned up,” he whispers. “Take a shower with me, and we’ll get in bed.”

  I showered a couple hours ago, but this man has gotten me pretty dirty, so I say yes.

  A few minutes later, we’re under the hot stream of water, and I clean off his chest, washing away the remains of my orgasm.

  He sighs contentedly as I run the soap over his strong pecs, then down through the grooves of his abs. He’s cut everywhere, firm everywhere, and I take my sweet time enjoying the feel of him as I lather up his arms, his shoulders, his back.

  He gives me a soft smile, finishes up, then rinses off before he takes the soap, washing me all over, like he craves it.

  Like he needs to take care of someone.

  It’s part of who Jackson is—like how he brushed the hairs off my neck in the barbershop. Like how he asks about my life, my dad, my brother. How he always wants to make sure I’m good with what’s going on, whether it’s the position he wants to put me in, or the picture a fan wants to take.

  But I see other caring sides of him too.

  The way he values other people. Like his colleagues, Cruz and Terrence. How their respect matters to him. How he shows it to them in return.

  How my opinion matters too. How he wants to keep an open mind with me, to listen if I do want to top him someday. I don’t know if the roles matter to me. I’m good with everything we do. But the fact that he’d be open to it says a ton about him.

  I like his protective nature as well. How he watches out for me all the time. How he seems to crave that responsibility.

  He looked out for us in the elevator too. Not wanting the world to see what’s just ours.

  And yeah, part of me wants everyone to know I have it bad for him. But mostly I want to keep him all to myself, to live in this secret corner of my life where it’s just the two of us.