Page 14 of So I'll Know
JEREMY
Ileave Marcus’s office with a solid boner, and I have no idea why.
Well, okay, I absolutely know why.
But it’s not like we were doing anything inappropriate. He just has large hands and dark hair on his arms, and when he leaned across his desk, his musky smell filled my senses—some sort of woodsy scent like cedar or pine. He’s like . . . a sexy lumberjack with a professional façade, and that makes me want to pick him apart and discover all his secrets.
Fuck me. Keeping this professional is going to give me permanent blue balls.
I blow out a breath when I reach the bottom of the stairs and am just about to leave through the back door when I hear Tris call my name.
“Jeremy!”
I curse under my breath. Not that I don’t want to see my friend, but I really want to go home and take care of my dick problem.
I pause to school my features, then turn to face him. “You rang?”
Tris exits the kitchen next to the bar and stops in front of me, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “You were up there a while, so it must’ve gone well.”
I give him a reassuring smile. “I think we’re going to get along great.”
“Listen, I have a few bottles of whisky behind the bar. Maybe we should have a quick drink.” He bounces hopefully on his toes. “We can celebrate bringing you on board.”
I give him an apologetic look. “Sorry, babe. I’m actually really tired. I’m still jet lagged from my trip, and I want to get started on some design ideas before tomorrow.”
Tris nods reluctantly. “I understand. Maybe I can get Marcus to crack open a bottle with me.”
His comment gives me pause. I know drinking with Marcus, my client, is a terrible idea. But it’s just one drink, right? And why does Tris get to do it? Marcus is his boss,for fuck’s sake.
Shit. Am I jealous?
It’s a weird feeling, curling in my gut, burning like bile. I don’tdojealousy, and I’ve certainly never minded sharing before. Group activities are always good fun. But the thought of sharing Marcus makes my teeth grind.
“Actually, a drink sounds good.”
Tris’s face lights up. “Really?”
I nod. “Not too late though, okay? I gotta take Peter home tonight.” I hold up my helmet, which is still attached to my messenger bag, and Tris giggles.
“You’re such a nerd. I can’t believe you named your bike after Spider-Man.”
I frown. “Be nice to him or I’ll go home.”
Tris loops his arm through mine and guides me toward the bar just as Marcus comes down the stairs from his office.
“Marcus, sweetie, we’re going to toast Jeremy. Pretty please come sit with us?”
Marcus eyes us suspiciously. “Yeah, all right. But I’m notdrinking like I did on Friday. That night I—” His eyes dart to me.
I raise an eyebrow. “That night you what?”
“Err—I drank too much. Made bad decisions. You know.” He swallows hard, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob with the movement.
I want to lick it.
Tris glances between us, clearly confused, before he goes behind the bar, bending down to retrieve what I assume are glasses, and I situate myself at one of the barstools.
Marcus sidles up next to me, and our elbows bump as he sits down. The contact sends electricity up my arm to the nape of my neck, raising goosebumps. He pulls away quickly, his eyes widening. I feel nerves pouring off him, his movements stiff and unsure. Marcus the businessman is cocky and confident, in his element. But business hours are over, and this Marcus is hesitant—almost scared—and defensive. As strange as it sounds, I like that I make him uncomfortable.
