Filed to story: Swallow Me Whole (Sadie & Ashton) Book Free
Obviously, he has no intention of going there.
“Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Jules?” His voice is a soft caress to my senses, and I find myself nodding.
Agreeing even though every fiber of my being revolts at the truth behind his words.
He’s married. I’m his employee. And that’s that.
“I understand,” I say, tingling under the steel of his gaze. Everything we’re not saying flows between us as the last leg of the ride passes. The gondola comes to a stop, and we finally break eye contact.
He falls into step beside me after we exit, and we head back toward Pike Place amid the flow of foot traffic and the constant swoosh of cars on the freeway overhead. A few minutes later, we stall on the brick road in front of the market.
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Is your place close by?”
Chewing on my lip, I nod.
“I’d walk you home, but…”
“It’s okay,” I say, shuffling my feet like a fool. “You’re my boss, so…”
Something about my words seems to bother him, because he takes a step toward me, brows furrowing. “I’d like to think we’re friends.”
“Me too.” No matter how impossible that notion seems.
Friends or not, allowing him to walk me to my apartment is out of the question. It doesn’t have to be spoken by either of us; we both know if he walks me home we’ll be tempted to end our time together in my bed.
“Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun.” I want to ask if I’ll see him again next Saturday, but I bite back the question.
“Me too.” He runs a hand through his hair, and my attention is drawn to those long, lethal fingers. God, how his touch would set me on fire. My resolve to do the right thing would disintegrate so easily.
“I’ll see you Monday at work,” I say, slowly backing away. Thirsting for an escape from my own desires.
“See you Monday,” he says with a nod.
Somehow, we manage to turn at the same time and walk away from each other, and I wonder if it was as difficult for him as it was for me.
12. Club Shadow
Jules
That night, Lesley shows up twenty-five minutes past eight because she’s never given much consideration to punctuality. I’m dressed in the red number she said I should wear, my face made up, club-style. Right before we head out the door, she talks me into doing one shot with her—just to loosen me up.
“You are rocking that dress,” she says as we make our way down the road toward the club. Her brown eyes lower, taking in my legs then my feet. “Especially those shoes.”
The heels are a nice touch but not the most practical for walking. My feet ache when we arrive at Club Shadow. After standing in the long line of people waiting to get inside, we reach the front, and I hand the bouncer my ID. It’s been so long since I felt this good about myself. Confident. Sexy. Ready to have a little fun with my bestie. Yep, the pre-club shots we threw back before walking down here are kicking in.
The bouncer lets us inside, and the place is packed. As I follow Lesley through the crowd, I take it all in. The long bar taking up the back wall, and the stage to our left. Blue and red lights beam down from the vaulted ceiling, and that’s when I notice the second floor. It’s dark up there, obviously a private place for VIPs since a bulky guy is manning the bottom of the stairs, where a rope sections off the space from the rest of the club.
“I heard the owner is here on Saturday nights,” Lesley shouts above the rock music as she scores us two seats at the bar. After we settle in, she takes in the scene. A throng of people crowd around the stage, dancing and belting out the lyrics along with the lead singer. Tattoos sleeve his arms, and his hair falls into his eyes as he owns the mic. Sweat dampens the front of his tee under the hot lights.
Lesley grabs my shoulder then points with her free hand. “That’s the owner. What did I tell you? Hottie at four o’clock.”
Swerving my attention to where she’s pointing, I feel my heart stop. The guy Lesley is hoping to get a few minutes with is
Cash.
And he’s heading directly for us.
For me.
But as soon as he comes within a few feet of us, I realize it isn’t Cash—it’s Kaden. I’m not sure how I know the difference, but I do. My heart resumes beating as he stops in front of me, his warm smile taking hold of his face.
“Hey, Jules.”
I don’t need to glance at Les to know she’s staring at Kaden and me with her mouth hanging open, stunned at this new development. I’m also stunned. In fact, I’m so shocked that I can’t get my vocal cords to work.
Lesley saves me by leaning forward and extending her hand. “I’m Lesley,” she says above the guitar solo that’s ripping through the club.
Kaden tears his eyes from me long enough to greet her. “Nice to meet you, Lesley.” He winks at her before settling his attention on me once more. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You too,” I say automatically.
He leans forward, and his arm brushes my shoulder as he gestures for the bartender. “Hey, Shane! Give these ladies whatever they want tonight. It’s on the house.”
“You got it, boss.”
The music falls silent, and the band announces a short break. Kaden slaps the countertop before stepping away. “We’ll catch up in a bit, okay?” he says to me. “I need to take care of something, but I’ll be back, so don’t go anywhere.” He disappears between the bodies, and through my stupor I hear the bartender ask what we’re drinking.
“Vodka and cran,” Les says.
“I’ll stick with water.”
“You sure, sweetheart? You heard him—it’s on the house.”
“I’m sure, thanks.”
After the bartender goes off to fetch our drinks, Lesley turns to me and grips both of my arms. “I had no idea you knew the owner.”
“I don’t really know him.”
She quirks a brow. “Well, he seems to know you.”
“Okay, I met him once. He’s my boss’ brother.” Just thinking about Cash gets my blood pumping. Our run-in today at the market left me in a state of chaos. That whole encounter feels like a dirty secret I’m keeping.
“Wait, hold up a minute. Are you saying that hot-as-fuck man is related to those Montgomerys?”
“Kaden is Cash’s twin.”
“Jesus, Jules. Imagine being the bologna in that sandwich.”
I imagine it all too well, but Kaden isn’t part of the picture, which leaves me baffled. How the hell can two men who are near replicas of each other, down to the timbre of their voices and the storm in their eyes, affect me so differently?