“Say so. It’s your project, after all.”

I consider that. And he’s right. “It is my project,” I say firmly. “And if Damien can veto you, then I can veto Glau.”

Jackson grins at me. “That’s my girl. Can you hold on to that attitude in the face of my brother?”

I make a face. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Well, good for you.” He puts his hand over mine. “Apparently I’m just going to sit back and say fuck it.” He pushes away from the table and rises from his stool. “Dammit, that’s just not me. I don’t take shit lying down. I never have.”

“Then why now?”

“Because apparently I’m one of Pavlov’s fucking dogs.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about and say so.

“All my life, moving to the whim of Damien. He said jump, and my family asked how high.” He makes a derisive noise in his throat. “Bastard has his finger on the control button and he is constantly pressing.”

“So take it back. Take control back from him. You’re good at that.”

He’s been facing opposite me, but now he turns, and I can see that he’s considering something. “You’re right,” he says as his expression clears and a wide grin spreads across his face. “I absolutely am.”

He pulls me to a kiss. “Come on. It’s late, and you have work tomorrow.”

“I do,” I say. I gently trace my finger over his fading bruises. He’s shirtless, wearing only sweatpants that are loosely tied at his waist. “How are they?”

“Better.”

I press my palm against the largest one and feel his muscles quiver under my touch. I bite back a satisfied smile, delighted to see such tangible evidence that he desires me as much as I do him. “I hope so. They still look painful.”

“Better now with you,” he amends.

I slowly slide down to my knees, my fingers plucking at the drawstring of his sweats as I descend.

“Something on your mind, Ms. Brooks?” He sounds both amused and aroused. And his erection—now growing beneath the thin material—is certainly proof of the latter.

“I believe we discussed playing doctor?”

“Did we?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I tug loose the drawstring, and then let the sweats fall off him, though I do have to rearrange the material a bit to free his growing erection.

His sweats pool around his ankles, and as they do I lean forward and lick the tip of his cock.

“Oh, dear god,” he says, and twines his fingers in my hair. “What the hell are you doing?”

I laugh. “Sweetheart, if you don’t know—” And then, because I’m inspired, I grin up at him. “I’m taking your temperature,” I say, and then take him into my mouth as deep as I can.

He tastes wonderful. So male. So Jackson.

And as I stroke and lick and tease, his cock tightens, and he groans in a way that makes me go completely wet. And though I don’t want to stop—though I am loving this jolt of feminine power—right at this moment, I desperately want him inside me.

As if he can read my mind, he slowly pulls back, freeing his cock and then easing me up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not a thing,” he says as he scoops me up and cradles me next to his bare chest. “Except that I think I might just die if I can’t lay you out on the bed and have my way with you right now.”

“Oh.” A wonderfully sensual tremor rolls through me. “Well, in that case, who am I to stop a man with a plan?”

twelve

“I have to be honest, Damien. I’m not thrilled with any of them. But I’m definitely vetoing Glau.”

“Are you?” He lifts a single brow, obviously amused.

We’re in the sitting area of his office, with me on the small sofa and Damien in a chair across a low coffee table from me. I’ve put together files of every possible architect for the Cortez project, and I’m holding them in my lap, ready to run through each candidate’s pros and cons. Now I lean forward and put the stack on the table, then sit back and cross my legs, hoping I look more confident and in control than I feel.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” I say firmly. “I am.”

“Mr. Stark,” he repeats. He stands up and moves to the bar across the room. “I was wondering how pissed off you were. I guess now I know.”

I don’t try to deny it. I routinely call him Mr. Stark when I’m working his desk or when we’re with other people. But I’ve gotten so close to Nikki that formality feels awkward when I’m not in the role of his assistant. So yes, the fact that I called him Mr. Stark just now is my passive-aggressive way of telling him that as far as I’m concerned he’s making a huge mistake by cutting Jackson from the project.