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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jacob stretched out his arms as he woke, the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse.
He loved falling asleep watching the moon and feeling the sun on his face when he woke. It made him feel closer to nature despite the concrete jungle around him.
He’d enjoyed a quiet night at home alone last night. Something he hadn’t done since finding out about Ward being his father.
Jacob credited Leilani with his newfound calm. Or at the very least, being the sexy body he fucked out all of his frustration on.
She’d been incredible.
Carter had messaged him yesterday, asking him to bring her back again.
They both knew it was unlikely.
The drive home had been quiet. Although they’d exhausted her, he lay an arm around her and watched as she turned inward, processing the night.
She wasn’t like Melanie and Lucy, or any of the others. Sex to them was a sport. A hobby. Something to be enjoyed in as many ways and with as many people as they desired.
For Leilani, like many people, it meant more.
It meant love.
He’d be lying if he said he never thought she was the type of girl who would want the princess cut ring and picket fence. Of course she was.
But he’d also been right that she was more adventurous than she gave herself credit for.
She could have sprinted out of Sailors the minute she stepped out onto The Observatory, but she didn’t.
She could have told Carter to stop when he first touched her, but she didn’t.
And she certainly could have said no fucking way when Carter licked her ass. But. She. Didn’t.
What she did do, however, was look at Jacob like he was some fucking god with an enormous dick—not completely untrue—and show him the glimmer of hope deep within that he’d fall madly in love with her.
Sorry princess, no.
That was never on the table.
Still, he couldn’t argue that the moment she came around his shaft, his arms had wrapped around her, and a greedy possession settled deep within him. He wasn’t sure how to process that, so he hadn’t. Jacob had enough on his mind with his family—who he was ignoring again—and how to move forward.
Ward Montgomery was his father.
Jesus Christ.
Bolting on Friday night from the InkWell event had just exaggerated the situation, but his brother should’ve warned him.
Damn you, Blake.
Now his phone was full of messages, which he needed to deal with.
That he was hoping to see one from Leilani was interesting. When he’d plugged his number in, he hadn’t thought to message himself because at no point during his thought process had he considered that she wouldn’t contact him.
