The Lineup(93)

I agree completely.

“We will be there,” I say, holding on to Jason’s arm that’s wrapped around me.

“Perfect. Dottie, just bring crescent rolls; we don’t need you cooking.”

“I’ll have my chef make us something.”

“Ah,” Jason cries out in insult. “How dare you mention that chef again. I told you, cheat on me with another penis, but do not cheat on me in the kitchen.” Addressing Emory, he says, “I’ll make two things: Yams and homemade stuffing from homemade bread because if anything, I’m a fancy fuck.”

“So fancy.” Emory heads back to her apartment. “Thank you. Now you two go do your thing.”

We say our goodbyes and Jason quickly pulls me into his apartment and pushes me against his closed door. His hands fall to my waist while his mouth finds mine. I melt against the wood as he takes over, moving his hand up my body to cup my cheek, his body adding pressure as he kisses me unlike any man has ever before. Passionately.

“Jason,” I murmur when his mouth finds my jaw.

“Missed you today, sweet cheeks.” He moves to my neck and my hand falls to his chest. “I’m so happy you came over.”

“I . . .” Oh God his mouth feels so good. “I need to talk to you.”

He stills, his head lifting. When he looks me in the eyes, his face falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just need to talk to you.”

He stands tall, looking concerned. “Okay.” He takes me by the hand and takes me to the couch where he pulls me down on his lap. Hands still connected, he asks, “What’s up?”

And just like that, a wave of nerves hit me. This is ridiculous. I don’t get nervous. I’m rock solid, take no prisoners, show no emotions, but here I am, sitting on the lap of the man who owns my heart, and all I can think about is how nervous I am about a simple question.

Maybe because it isn’t a simple question, not where relationships are concerned. I’ve never really had a man in my life to invite to a business dinner, or a dinner with my parents for that matter. Every relationship I’ve had has been surface level; I’ve never gone deep like I have with Jason. Therefore, this feels so much more real and the stakes are higher if he says no.

“Dottie.” He squeezes my side. “What’s wrong, babe? You look . . . different.”

Wanting to be honest with him, I say, “Just nervous.”

“Nervous?” His brow creases. “But it’s me. You can tell me anything.”

“I know.” I take a deep breath and say, “So you know I’ve been working hard on the Carlton project?”

“Yeah, breaking your back over it. Are they finally coming back from vacation?”

I nod. “They are and they requested to have dinner Friday night to talk.”

“That’s great. Did they sound positive?”

“It was an email so I couldn’t really tell, but they did have a request.”

“What was it? We’ll make it happen.” The tension eases in my shoulders when he says that. He’s eager to help. I should have known this wouldn’t be as big a deal as it was in my head.

“They, uh, know we’re dating and since they’re all about family, they wanted to meet the man who I’m seeing. I know it’s asking a lot but—”

“Babe.” He smiles at me. “I’m in.” His hand snakes up my neck. “I’m all in with you, you know that, right?”

“I . . . I do now.”

“I thought I made that clear. I like you, Dottie, a lot. I have no plans to go anywhere.”

“I know, but this is a business thing.”

“So, that’s what I’m here for. That includes every aspect of your life.” He brings my mouth to his and presses a gentle kiss across my lips. When he pulls away, he says, “Why don’t you have them over to your place? I’ll cook a ham—I have a great recipe—and we can put on a noteworthy dinner for them, show them the kind of give and take we have with our relationship.”

“No, I don’t want you to go to all that trouble.”

“It’s not trouble if it’s for you. Plus, if you use that chef of yours for this dinner, I’m going to be pissed.”

I chuckle and nod. “Okay, you can make dinner, but let me help?”

“Do you want the contract?”

“Yes.”

He pats my leg. “Then leave the cooking to me.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“And you’re not great either.”

“You know, you were so close to getting a blow job, but after that comment, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Good,” he says matter-of-factly. “Because I planned on doing other things with you and the first item on my to-do list is eat your pussy.”

He flips me on my back on the carpet of his living room and pushes my skirt up to my waist while dragging my thong down at the same time. In seconds, I’m bare and spread to him, my heart racing a mile a minute.

“Hold your legs open. I need to use my hands for other things.”

I do as he says and before I can catch my next breath, his tongue is swirling over my clit, his fingers spreading me wide.