C8, PT. 1

Jasmine perched in the kitchen window seat of Roth’s penthouse at 432 Park Avenue with both hands around a steaming cup of coffee. It was hours before sunrise, but she was wide awake. Not by choice. Part of that was due to her internal clock being off from spending three weeks in Europe. The other part was Roth. She woke, feeling as if her boob was on fire. She was days away from her period, so her nipples were hella sensitive, something she mentioned on the flight back to New York when he kept feeling her up. Apparently, he saw that as an invitation rather than a rejection. This morning, he held her down while he paid homage and drove her crazy. Had any woman ever gotten off from having her nipples played with? She never had, but twenty minutes ago, she came pretty damn close.

She heard him coming before he entered the kitchen. His hair and beard were damp from his shower. He was dressed for the office in a slate gray suit with a matching overcoat that made him appear even larger than he already was. No matter how sophisticated his clothing, he always looked more like a gangster than a businessman.

He came straight to her, taking the cup from her hand and setting it aside, before he tipped her face up and kissed her deeply. Her heart literally fluttered.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

One eyebrow arched. “You thought I was going to sleep through you sucking on my boobs?”

His beard twitched as his mouth crooked in a half smile that she was becoming accustomed to seeing.

“I thought you’d go back to sleep after I made you come. It’s three in the morning.”

“You’re up,” she pointed out.

“I’m always up. I worked out and was going to take a shower and saw you with your nightgown hiked up around your waist and your breast out. I couldn’t resist.”

“You could have.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

She hissed when his hand dropped to her chest and kneaded. “Will you stop playing with my boobs?”

“No,” he said again and tucked his face against her neck and inhaled. “You smell like me.”

“I’ll shower after you leave.”

“You should have joined me.”

“I needed coffee.”

He grunted and gave her another kiss before he nabbed her coffee and sipped.

“You never learn,” she chided when he grimaced.

She took her cup back and settled it on her thigh as he went to the coffee pot and downed a cup in two gulps. When he caught her wide-eyed stare, he shrugged.

“I have to run.”

He cast a distracted look over the kitchen island. She had to admit, it looked like a mess with her notebooks, pens, external hard drive, cords, and laptop scattered over it.

“You need an office,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“Pick a room. An interior designer can help you decorate.”

Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I don’t need an office.”

He pulled out his phone. “I’ll have Sarai send you samples of designers’ work.”

“Roth.”

“What?” he said absently as he scrolled on his phone.

“It’s Thanksgiving.”

He focused on her with a frown. “It’s what?”

“Thanksgiving. Your employees are working today?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

“It’s a holiday,” she said slowly. “You do know what holidays are, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I have back to back meetings all day. No one said anything when we scheduled it.”

Of course, they didn’t. Apparently, he forgot why he speeded up his business in Berlin—to keep his promise to Lyle so they could spend the holiday with her family. Once she recommitted to him, his energy had been next level. He was a bit manic—insatiable, hyperactive, unable to sleep. She had to order him to go to his meetings because his hovering was freaking her out. He threw himself into a work frenzy. She doubted that he got more than eight hours of sleep in the three days they were in London. The frequent calls to make sure she wasn’t feeling neglected were disconcerting. She didn’t know what to do with this attentive Roth, who was willing to put work aside to be with her. She was in desperate need of rest and space to process, while he seemed to want the opposite.

“What are you doing today?” he asked.

“Writing.” And going to Colette’s for dinner. She’d been planning to mention it, but his packed schedule told her he wouldn’t be back until ten or later. The day they flew into New York, he went straight to the office from the airport (with her blessing) while she was delivered to 432 Park Avenue. Part of her should be miffed at being locked in another penthouse, but after weeks of living out of suitcases and the unfamiliar being the norm, this actually felt like home. She wasn’t going to tell Roth that, though.

“You can’t work like this,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen island.

“Yes, I can.”

“Everyone needs a space that’s their own to do their best work,” he said absently and narrowed his eyes as he read something on his phone.

The thought of claiming a room in the penthouse and putting her stamp on it made her uneasy. It felt too permanent.

“I have to go.”

He didn’t ask for a kiss, he simply cupped her chin and lifted her mouth to take what he wanted. He took his time. Her hand wrapped in his coat before he broke the kiss and looked down at her.

“Okay?” he asked.

In the past few days, she realized this was his way of asking if she wanted something of him before he left her.

As she had every single time he asked, she replied, “Yes.”

He gave her another kiss and brushed his fingers over her right hand before he turned away. She watched him walk through the doorway before she looked down at the wedding band on her right ring finger. She hadn’t taken it off since he put it on four days ago. She noticed he’d taken to touching it like a talisman. Wearing two wedding rings was strange, especially since they couldn’t be more different in taste and style. The simple, traditional ring on the right and the modern stunner that someone would slit her throat for on the left… They contradicted one another, but she couldn’t find it in herself to tuck the simple one away.

Sarai spotted the ring the moment she walked onto the jet. When she admitted it was her first wedding ring, Sarai teared up and retreated to calm herself. Sarai seemed to realize the significance of its reappearance. She still had a hard time believing Roth kept it after the lies Maximus told him and the infidelity documented in her novels. He should have tossed the ring in the trash a long time ago, yet he kept it as a reminder. For what, she still didn’t know.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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