"Heiress, please."
Jameson's voice echoed across the library, and the volume it propelled made me blush, despite us being alone. Had he chosen to confront me in the archive, or in front of his brothers . . .
Let's just say there might be one less of them.
His hand soon followed his words, clasping around my own. It was cold, unlike his typical feverish skin, which made me linger a moment too long before pulling away. Jameson was insistent; his hands gathered my hair in a loose knot at the nape of my neck, teasing my skin.
"I just want to talk," he said.
I crossed my arms, refusing to turn his direction. Sure, the sun was glaring directly at me through the windows, but it felt better than his sorrowful eyes. "Okay. Talk."
"I'm sorry."
When he didn't continue, I swung around to face him, my hands on my hips. "That's it?"
"Did you want something more?"
"I'd appreciate you acknowledging what you did wrong."
Jameson winced, raising both his hands to drag them through his hair. "Look, Heiress. Considering how many mistakes I make, I'm not exactly sure what I'm apologizing for."
A growl built up in my throat. With that attitude, there was no need for him to even try.
As I turned away, intending to stomp across the hardwood, Jameson grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back against his chest. I squirmed in protest, but his arms were too strong. Too solid.
"Hey, don't get too angry yet," he murmured.
"I'm beyond angry." I pushed down on his forearms but they wouldn't budge. "And you holding me here is only making it worse."
"If I let you go, will you talk to me?"
"Probably not," I admit.
Jameson smirked. "Then you're staying right where I want you."
"Too bad it's not where I want to be."
Jameson loosened his arms, but only slightly. When I began struggling again, he sighed. "Just tell me what I did wrong, Heiress."
"You're smart enough to figure it out on your own."
"I am," he agreed, "but you'd spare my time if you just told me."
I growled in frustration. "I saw the way you acted yesterday, okay? In front of the cameras."
Tears pooled in my eyes at the memory, and Jameson let me go when he noticed how shaken I was.
"What do you mean?"
"It's like you only want to show affection in front of the crowds." I tore a hand through my hair, ruining the updo Alisa had attempted that morning.
Jameson reached for me, but I shrugged him away. He straightened his shoulders and struggled to keep his composure. "That's not true."
"Then why," I inquired, shoving a finger toward him, "could you not keep your hands off me when the cameras were flashing?"
His lips twitched. "Don't tell me you liked that."
"Why?" I demanded, ignoring him. "It's like you only want a relationship so everyone can know about it."
"Avery," he murmured, shaking his head.
I paused my pacing and twisted toward him, happy to have the sun on my back instead of my face. Jameson was watching me without any humor in his face.
"I'd still want you if nobody knew about us," he said.
"Then why —"
"Because I'm proud." Jameson wrapped his arms around me, and this time I let him pull me close. "Yes, I like people knowing about us. But that's because you're Avery Grambs. I'm very lucky."
"But . . . you're never like that when we're alone."
"I can fix that." Jameson's hands slid to my waist, feeling for the shape of me beneath his fingertips. As he leaned in, he murmured, "I didn't realize you liked it so much."
"I do," I tell him.
Jameson rested his forehead on my shoulder. "If you give me another chance, heiress, I promise I'll prove how much you mean to me."
I leaned into him as I thought it over, but my heart had decided long before my mind did. "Okay," I whispered.
Jameson walked me back to the nearest bookshelf. When my back was pressed firmly against it, he kissed my neck, then trailed a few up my jaw. "You're going to have to communicate with me," he said, his lips still on my skin. "Tell me what you want."
My voice was lost of breath when I said, "This."
