Everyone was getting laid. First, Sonny got with the short doctor with the killer dimples. Then, Johnny and his cousin Faith hooked up. Neither couple can stay apart for any length of time. Always touching. Always flushed. Always sated. All of it irritated the hell out of Jason. Nothing got done. Everything was left up to him and Justus to handle and they were getting tired of it.
The numbers on the coffee invoice blurred together. He rubbed his eyes and tried again. Nothing happened. He couldn't focus, so he gave up.
The cell phone in his front pocket vibrated. He fished it out and answered, "Yeah."
"Jason! Where are you?"
Emily. His little sister only had two speeds. Fast and faster. He loved her anyway.
"Why?" She gasped in a rush. "You're supposed to be at the boutique. For your fitting, remember? Oh, my God, Jason, it's bad enough that Grandfather is giving me fits about the wedding. I thought you were on my side!"
"I am," he stated evenly. "I forgot about the fitting. What time does the store close?"
"It's already closed. I told her to go to the penthouse. That you'd meet her there. She should arrive in a few minutes."
He looked down at his clothing. Earlier that day, he had to break up a disturbance at the docks. A fight ensued. He wasn't hit, but he was dirty. After returning to the penthouse, he didn't bother to shower or change. He'd have to now.
"A few minutes? You should have cleared it with me first."
"I didn't have time!"
"Em." Her shortened name was a warning.
She took the hint and backed off. "Okay, Jason. You're right and I'm sorry! But please, let her in and do the fitting. I'm counting on you."
The call ended. Jason bounded up the staircase. As he entered his room, he threw his clothes off, leaving a trail behind him. Since Johnny started messing around with Faith, he sometimes used Jason's place as a pit stop. A few weeks ago, Justus moved into the other bedroom while his place was being renovated. Then, Johnny's stops came to abrupt halt. Jason wasn't surprised. Justus would lose it if he knew his little sister was banging Johnny.
Jason didn't care about Faith's love life on a cousin level, but he could understand Justus' reaction. Sisters were special and a guy had to protect them. And if Em ever messed around with a man like Johnny... Jason released a sigh of relief. That wouldn't happen. She and her fiancé were chained at the hip. He didn't have to worry about her.
He stepped into the shower and did his business. When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the sink. He wiped the fog from the mirror and looked at his reflection. He needed a shave.
"Ow!" He complained after the deed was done. Razor burn was a bitch. He reached out for his aftershave. Without bothering to glance at the writing on the square-shaped glass bottle, he shook the liquid into his hand and rubbed it on. Instant soothing and a faint citrus scent. Like oranges. Jason smiled. He liked oranges.
The speaker buzzed. He padded across the carpet to answer it. Rinaldo told him that there was a lady at the door. Something about a fitting. Jason said, "Let her in."
He ran the towel over him and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Without bothering with shoes, he headed for the first floor.
The seamstress/designer stood in the middle of his living room. Her back was to him, but that gave him enough of a view to know that she was mightily built. Long, shapely and brown, her legs reminded him of Tina Turner. Justus introduced him to the lady's music and Jason often stared at her photo while she sung about private dancing.
Jason's gaze moved up to her rounded backside, slender hips and small waist. So far so good, he thought and his hardening crotch agreed. He had a feeling the bothersome task would be enjoyable.
He took the final step and she turned as if she heard him. Damn! Light brown eyes met his stare. Her gaze was warm and open. A smile came to her full, glossy lips. She held out her hand. "Hello, Mr. Morgan, I'm Carrie Jensen of Carrie's Creations."
"Call me Jason." He took her hand. Electricity shot through him. But it felt good.
Her warm palm fit perfectly against his. Flesh against flesh. How long had it been since he been lost himself inside the warmth of a woman? He couldn't remember and that meant it had been far too long.
Her fingers flexed against his, squeezing and holding on longer than normal. A quizzical frown creased his brow. Was she feeling the heat, too?
Slowly--reluctantly--she released his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Jason."
He nodded. The pleasantries of polite conversation were a waste of time, so he didn't bother with them.
"What should I do?" he asked.
Her gaze raked over him, accessing him from head to toe. Her tongue darted out and swiped her bottom lip. "You're doing it," she murmured. "Um," she said, chewing sexily on her lip, "stand over there and spread your arms. You'll spread your legs when I tell you to."
He cocked an eyebrow, but didn't offer protest. He moved to where she pointed and raised his arms. Carrie moved behind him. Her body heat was scorching. Her fingers trailed sensuously along his arms, across his back and on his neck. His muscles tensed suddenly. Blood flooded his lower body. He hadn't expected this.
"Strong, broad shoulders," she purred. "I always like that in a man."
Her arms closed around him from behind. Her hands pressed against his abdomen. Her fingertips toyed with his navel. He sucked in air.
"Washboard stomach. Mmm…"
Jason squeezed his eyes shut. If she kept this up, he'd lose it.
"And now, for the inseam…"
When Carrie's hand closed around his crotch, Jason did what any other self-respecting would. He gave her what she wanted. And he kept giving it to her all night long and into the next morning.
Thoughts of what her longtime companion, Stefan Cassadine would do in retaliation never entered Jason's mind. He didn't care about the aristocratic Greco-Russian. Once he had a taste of Carrie Jensen, nothing else mattered. Keeping the organization in line took a back seat. When it came to fulfilling Carrie's and his needs, he gave his all.
And he had no idea that a square glass bottle of Chick Magnetâ was to blame.
To be continued…