The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games, #2)

by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

He reached to brush a strand of hair out of my face, and every nerve in my body went on high alert. I jerked back. “Stop looking at me like that,” I told him sternly. “Like what?” he countered. I folded my arms and stared him down. “You turn on the charm when you want something.” “Heiress, you wound me.” Jameson looked better smirking than anyone had a right to look. “All I want is for you to rifle through your memory banks a little. My grandfather was a person who thought in four dimensions. He might have had more than one reason for choosing you. Why kill two birds with one stone, he always said, when you could kill twelve?” There was something about his voice, about the way he was still looking at me, that would have made it easy to get caught up in it all. The possibilities. The mystery. Him.

“Well then, Heiress.” Jameson stepped forward. Standing directly to my side, he brought his lips down to my ear and whispered, “Game on.”

them and their games >>

hadn’t even memorized my own schedule. But Jameson apparently had.

!!!

If he is my father, then where is he? Why isn’t he here? As if that thought had beckoned him toward me, Jameson came closer. “Let’s call off the bet,” he said softly.

his voice might have sounded gentle—but the Jameson Hawthorne I knew wasn’t gentle.

my voice rough in my throat. “Let’s call off the bet.” I expected him to kiss me then—to take advantage of my moment of weakness, to push me back against the wall and wait for my head to angle up toward his, wait for a yes. He looked like he wanted to. I wanted it.

He stepped up behind me and adjusted my grip, his arms wrapping around mine, guiding them from shoulder to fingertips. Even through my uniform blazer, I could feel the heat of his body.

Jameson had brought me up here to let go.

We. I’d said we.

My pulse jumped, and it had nothing—almost nothing—to do with the way he was still looking at me.

Jameson called after her, amused. “Would you close the door if I promised very sincerely not to ravish your client?” “Jameson!” I hissed.

Jameson leaned toward me. “We’re brilliant.”

“Do you trust me, Heiress?” Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind.

“Easy,” Jameson murmured beside me

I laid a hand on his shoulder. After a moment, he reached up to touch my fingers. I let him. Jameson Hawthorne didn’t like being vulnerable. He didn’t like needing people any more than I did.

Jameson pulled me out. “Let’s get out of here, Heiress.”

me. He excelled at making scenes. There was an invitation in his green eyes—and a promise.

If I went with him, he’d find a way to make

us both forget what had jus...

The look he gave me then was one I felt through every square inch of my body. “For now.”

“Not about the ring.”

“Just this,” Jameson whispered, and he pulled my body tight to his.

my knuckles split as I punched them into that wall.

“Heiress.” Suddenly, Jameson was standing between me and the wall. I tried to stop, but couldn’t in time, and my fist connected with his chest. He didn’t even blink. I uncurled my fists, staring at him, realizing what had happened and horrified that I had hit him. “I’m sorry.” I had no excuse for losing it like this.

“Tell me what you need.”

I let out a long, effortful breath. “I need to take this damn wall down.”

Jameson nodded. He looked past me to Oren. “We’re going to need a sledgehammer.”

when my arms couldn’t hold the sledgehammer any longer, Jameson took over for me.

“that you finally let go.”

I remembered the way his skin had felt under my hands in the hot tub. That was letting go. This was me, hanging on to something. I didn’t even know what.

I took a step toward him. Then another. And another.

I closed the space between us.

Jameson and me.

I pushed him up against the closest wall.

perfect.

I didn’t feel alone.

That got me a slow, winding, wicked smile. “Heiress, you took the words right out of my mouth.”

Jameson took that as his cue to run a hand down my back and bring his lips to the spot where my neck met my jawline. I arched my neck, and Eli went bright red and stepped out of the room.

He turned the chair and, with a push of his heels, came skidding back to me.

Jameson shared a brief look with me. “Nothing of note.” He said nothing like it was something.

You lovebirds

Jameson told me, his lips quirking upward.

not his lips.

me couldn’t think about Jameson without thinking about the way it felt when his lips brushed lightly against my neck.

When Jameson answered, his green eyes locked on to mine.

“It’s me, Heiress.”

Jameson.

He held a finger up to my lips. He never actually touched me, but my lips burned anyway.

“I’m here,” he said with another devastating smile,

I literally stopped breathing. “Heiress?” Jameson said.