Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3)(65)

He just couldn’t explain why, this time, the thought of his usual routine felt like dying.

He couldn’t explain anything.

So he simply enjoyed the taste of her on his tongue, and the look of sheer ecstasy on her face, and the sound of his name on her lips. Jacob, Jacob, Jacob, steady as a heartbeat.

When she was done, he put the toy aside and kissed her thigh and sat up. Found his glasses. Dragged the covers over her limp, naked, beautiful body and tried to think of the right thing to say. It was incredibly difficult, and not just because his dick was harder than it had ever been and all he wanted was to feel that magnificent pussy tightening around him and— Stop. That was not a constructive train of thought.

Eve opened her eyes and rolled over to look at him. There was a hint of resignation in her smile. “You’re going to be weird about this, aren’t you?”

“Not weird,” he said, but even his voice was incredibly weird, all hoarse and thick, so it wasn’t the most convincing statement he’d ever made. The problem was, when Jacob had sex, it was always under very specific circumstances. Either he’d taken a woman out on five to ten dates, decided he liked her, and discovered she felt the same, or . . .

Actually, that was the only time he had sex, and it always followed the same pattern. They’d fuck, he’d call the next day, and either she’d pick up and they’d go on another date, or she wouldn’t pick up but she would periodically text him to come over, very late at night.

When Jacob had been younger and more hopeful, both of those arrangements usually ended because he was “too much.” Now that he was older and wiser, they ended because he was “emotionally distant”—or, as he liked to call it, sensible. Whatever the case, when it came to women, he always knew exactly what was going on. Exactly how things would end.

But Eve was different.

She was his employee, for one thing, and also kind of his tenant, which meant he’d just landed himself in a potential ethical minefield, but she was also—

She was his friend, and friends were diamonds to him. Sometimes, when they worked together, she felt kind of like his partner. She was permanent, that was the issue, or rather, he wanted her to be. But Jacob’s romances were never permanent. Whether they were the dating kind or the 1 A.M. fucking kind, they were never, ever permanent.

So if they did this, got too close like this . . . experience dictated it would end sooner or later, and then she would be gone.

Which was simply unacceptable.

Jacob cleared his throat. He knew what to say now. He just hoped he wouldn’t fuck it up. “Thank you for tonight. All of it. You’re . . . you’re a very good friend.”

She laughed a little. “Ouch.”

Great. He was fucking up already. “What? What’s ouch?”

“You know that you’re a very good friend is code for I don’t want to sleep with you again, right?”

Ah. “Well, yes, I did know that, but I more meant that we shouldn’t sleep together, not that I don’t want to.”

Eve bit her lip, pulling the covers over her chest as she sat up. “Oh. Okay. Well . . . yeah. Honestly, you’re probably right. I mean—” She laughed, though the usual sparkle in her eyes was absent. “Why did we even do this? It’s not like we could date.”

Those words really shouldn’t feel like a punch to the gut, but Jacob was apparently ridiculous over this woman, so they did.

“Right,” he said awkwardly, when what he wanted to ask was, Why? Why couldn’t we date? Am I so unsuitable? Or are you thinking of the problems I’m thinking of? Or—

Didn’t matter. Couldn’t ask. If she said something all sweet and brilliant and overwhelmingly Eve, he might throw caution to the wind and do whatever it took to make her his . . . person. And she couldn’t be his person because his people didn’t last.

“Well. Then we’re in agreement,” he managed. “The trouble is, whether we agree on this or not, we will probably continue to be attracted to each other.” He was impressed with himself for making such an understatement with a serious face. “And we spend so much time around each other, mistakes might easily be made.” Even as he said the words, a solution presented itself, glaringly obvious and wonderfully convenient. “But,” he said slowly, his mind still whirring, “there’s an easy way to reduce the risk.” An easy way to put you out of my reach, at least some of the time.

“Is there?” She arched an eyebrow, yet he couldn’t shake the impression that all her expressions were less full of life than usual, a little more mechanic.

Of course, that couldn’t be the case. Because if something was wrong with Eve, she’d just—well, she’d say. She always said. She was beautifully blunt, even now, during the most awkward conversation they’d ever had. So it was probably wishful thinking on his part, his mind searching for evidence that she was dying inside, just like him.

Which she obviously wasn’t, because it was insensible for Jacob to feel this way and no reasonable person should. Not after so little time and so little encouragement. For God’s sake, this time last week they’d hated each other.

“Go on, then,” she said, her voice strangely sharp. Irritated with him already, no doubt. “Give me this mystical solution.”

He cleared his throat. “Well—we agreed, last week, that you couldn’t stay here forever.” Then she’d charmed him so thoroughly that he’d forgotten to mind the fact she was sleeping in his sitting room. But he certainly minded now. For entirely different reasons. “Perhaps the best thing is for you to move out. I—I have alternative accommodations in mind.” Or rather, he did as of ten seconds ago. “We could go and take a look on . . .” He flicked through his mental diary, the pieces of this half-arsed plan flying together because he was that desperate to avoid temptation. “Thursday. No check-ins on Thursday. We could make that our house-hunting day.”