It had taken me eleven months of living in Hawthorne House to detect the secret passageway to Jameson's room. He'd warned me there was one, but apparently, I'd been searching in all the wrong places.
The one place I hadn't expected it find it was my own bedroom. It seemed too simple; too lucid for someone as clever as Jameson to devise.
But I supposed that was my weakness: never expecting simplicity. My life had been so complicated that I assumed everything always would be.
The passage was hiding under my four-poster bed, the trap door hidden in a cacophony of soft fabric. I might not have even noticed it, had I not stepped on the latch while rearranging my room one day.
I pulled it then, as I did now, and discovered a dark alleyway hiding beneath my floor. Until that moment, I hadn't dared to walk the tunnel in the dark.
But there I was.
As I jumped, I pulled the trap door closed above me. There was, indeed, a ladder I could've taken to ensure no rolled ankles, but jumping was funner.
The floor below my feet certainly wasn't carpeted, but the old wood at least lacked splinters. My feet were bare, and so was the majority of my body. I wore only a tank top and a pair of snug shorts.
When I came to a fork in the tunnel, I took neither the right or the left and instead climbed up a few cleverly placed stones in the wall. A trap door identical to mine was on the tunnel's ceiling — or rather, Jameson's floor.
I quickly unlatched it and pushed it open, immediately met by the smell of spice and the familiar drone of a shower running. I hoisted myself up, panting, and shut the trap door. It, too, was disguised amongst the house's pristine carpet.
As I caught my breath, I examined his room. I'd only been in here a few times — all curtesy of the passageway — and yet there seemed to be more medals, trophies, and ribbons on the walls every time.
Most of them were silly — feats obtained against his brothers when Jameson was still in his single digits. But it was clear, judging from the weight the walls hefted, that Jameson hadn't lost often.
The shower was still running, so I crossed the room to examine a few. Dust had collected on the older ones, obscuring their writing, so I turned to the newer ones residing on the east wall. Jameson had beaten his brothers at everything from bowling championships to collecting the most speeding tickets.
Just as I reached for one, a warm hand intercepted mine. My spine stiffened as two warm arms took residence around my waist, a pair of lips against my ear.
"Decided to join me tonight?" a familiar voice murmured.
I nodded. As I did so, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne traced a finger down my spine. I shivered.
A grin evident on his lips, he twisted me. When he'd fitted my body against the hollows of his, Jameson kissed me hard.
As we did so, my eyes strayed down past his bare chest. Jameson had pulled on plaid pajama pants, a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers peeking above the waistline.
"My eyes are up here," Jameson murmured to me, making me realize the kiss had ended, and that he'd caught me staring.
"Your underwear isn't," I responded.
A crooked grin tugged on his lips. "Touché."
My back collided with Jameson's wall as he buried his face in my neck. I dug my fingers into his wet hair, breathing in the spice of his cologne, the soap still fresh on his skin. I could inhale him whole.
"What were your intentions," Jameson murmured into my neck, "in coming here tonight?"
"I didn't have any."
"Liar."
He was kissing my collarbone then, the pleasure so acute that the truth stumbled past my lips. "I want to sleep in here."
"Something wrong with your bedroom?"
My eyes darkened. "You're not in it."
Jameson grinned against my lips, lifting my arms overhead for another passionate kiss. The feel of his contours pressed against mine was exquisite. Especially knowing that I couldn't escape his grasp. His dominance was, as much as I hated to admit it, a turn on.
And he knew it.
"If I'd known you were coming," Jameson murmured against my throat, "I would've invited you to take a shower with me."
"You'll have other opportunities." I wished, then, that the wall behind me didn't stop my head from lolling. I wanted to give him better access to my neck.
As Jameson's hands released my waist, he winked, a devilish glint in his eye. "You have no idea how many."
