Score by Jessica Ashe Read Free Book Online Page A

had to have. The sooner, the better.

It took me hours to get to sleep last night even though the time difference from the UK to New York should have meant I was exhausted by ten in the evening. Instead I lay in bed feeling a massive rush flowing through my body. I couldn’t believe how I’d spoken to Jaxon, but it had given me a huge jolt of adrenaline, and I felt more awake than I did after an extra large coffee.
    When I thought back on the conversation it felt like a dream. Had I really let him pull off my sweatshirt and then jiggled my boobs in front of him? Not just that, I’d told him in no uncertain terms that nothing would be happening between us. I’d been trying to convince myself more than him, but he did take me seriously; I could see it in his eyes. He would keep acting like a cocky, arrogant jerk, but he now thought his chances were slim so he might back off a bit.
    Letting him remove my sweater had been a huge risk. As he’d taken it off his fingertips had grazed my skin, and for a second I’d been unable to breathe, the air caught in my lungs. If he’d reached out and pressed a hand against my breast, or kissed my neck like he talked about doing, then I would of been helpless to resist. I was already half undressed, and my thin yoga pants could barely hide the dampness appearing between my thighs. He didn’t touch me though, so for better or worse I spent the night alone in my bed.
    After finally falling asleep, I ended up dreaming of Jaxon, or more specifically his cock. If there was one advantage to him sleeping around with a lot of women it at least meant he would know what he was doing. In my dream, he practically threw me around the bed as he whipped me from one position to another, including ones I had never been in before.
    With my previous boyfriends, we’d gone through the motions: me on top, him on top, and some gentle doggystyle. Jaxon didn’t know the meaning of the word gentle. In my dreams, he would pound me aggressively, and I’d come when he took me up against my bedroom wall. Judging by the wetness between my legs when I work up, the orgasm hadn’t been entirely in my imagination.
    At least being half-naked stopped Jaxon asking me more questions about college. It had been bad enough having to lie about the “F” on my transcript in interviews. I’d convinced everyone that I failed my courses on The Modern Middle East because of a family issue that distracted me from my studies, but that excuse wouldn’t work on Jaxon. He’d want to know what really happened, and there was no way in hell I was telling him that.
    Sam wouldn’t give me the day off of work to recover from the flight, but now Jaxon was in the house I was thankful for an excuse to get up and leave early. The jet lag had thrown me off anyway, so even though I hadn’t slept much, I was still awake at six in the morning.  
    I drove to the train station, and then took the subway into the city. The weather app on my phone told me that today would hit a high of seventy-five degrees, but it failed to mention that the humidity was ninety percent in the morning. The train quickly filled up as it approached the city, and by the time I got off I felt faint from the intense heat and the claustrophobia of being surrounded by so many people. I could handle crowds and I could handle heat—just about—but the two combined left me a sticky, panicky mess.
    The office was air-conditioned, but my cubicle happened to be the furthest from any of the vents in the ceiling, so the temperature was always a few degrees warmer than I liked it. I sat down and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to pretend that the office was empty and no one could see my shirt stuck to my back. I looked gross and felt even worse.
    How was it everyone else arrived at work looking like they'd been dropped off by an air-conditioned limo just outside the office? Did no one else get hot and sweaty on the subway? I didn’t see anyone else look half