by Jo Raven
“Hey,” I say vaguely, my brain on shut-down. I swallow hard, try again. “What does the cobra stand for?”
Both his brows arch now, eyes wide, their green-blue irises crystalline in the morning light. He glances down at his arm, then back at me. “What?”
“What does the snake stand for?” I wave in his direction, wondering if I should cut my losses, turn around and run away right frigging now. Being antisocial is one thing—seeing it in action is another.
As I’m about to make my escape, one corner of his mouth tips up.
“You’re funny,” he says, and it stops me in my tracks.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, trust me.” He grins. “How about we start again? Good morning, Embers.”
If flames jump from my cheeks, it won’t surprise me. “Morning.”
“Would you like to come inside?” he says, that sexy grin lingering on his full lips. “There might be coffee.”
“No, thanks.” The need to flee is worse than ever, only I’m caught in his spell and can’t move. He’s staring at me, giving me a lazy, slow once-over, from the top of my head to my toes curling in my sandals.
“What, no pet name for me today?”
Oh God, what am I doing here? “Cut it out, Jesse. Don’t be an ass.”
I expect a witty comeback, but instead something shutters behind his bright eyes, and strangely, I feel guilt wash over me. He rubs a hand over his face and slumps against the doorframe, muscles rolling in his arms.
“This is who I am, Embers,” he drawls, closing his eyes. “What you see is what you get. I told you that you’d get tired of me soon.”
But for the first time, I’m not so sure about that. And on top of it, I feel even worse for letting him think that.
“I found it,” I blurt out.
He sighs, opens his eyes to look at me, and instead of anger, I find something totally unexpected: defeat. “What did you find? Organic coffee? The leopard thong I lost the other day? The end of your patience?”
For some reason, I start to laugh. It’s not that what he said is all that funny—come on!—but the image of him in a leopard thong is in equal parts hilarious and hot.
What the hell’s wrong with me?
Takes me a moment to realize he’s laughing, too, but quietly, forehead pressed to the doorframe, his broad shoulders shaking, abs clenching in his belly. At least, I assume he’s laughing. From where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like he’s crying.
Definitely going crazy, I decide, my laughter dying, though I can’t stop myself from stepping forward and placing a light hand on his arm.
“JJ? You okay?”
He doesn’t move, a fine tremor going through him. Under my hand, his muscles shift and bunch, and he lifts his head. His face is inches from mine, golden skin, eyes that seem wet but maybe only seem brighter from up close, soft lips that part to let out a shaky exhale. The light musk of his sweat and a hint of cinnamon soap mingle with the minty scent of his toothpaste.
“Embers,” he whispers, shifting until he’s pushing me back on the doorjamb. It’s digging into my spine, but I barely feel it as he presses his tall body to mine and frames my head with his arms, imprisoning me between them.
He dips his face, long dark lashes fanning over his cheekbones. His eyes glimmer like gems, and his mouth that says so many funny and dirty things is so close… God, I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly. Never wanted to be kissed like I do now.
As he shifts slightly, his warm breath washing over my lips, something long and hard pokes me in the hip.
“What are you doing to me?” he hisses, pressing his forehead to mine, and I realize what I’m feeling is his cock through the thin fabric of his pants. He’s rock hard—for me.
“JJ…” My pet name for him. I shouldn’t call him this, but I keep doing it. I have to stop, have to…
The thought unravels when he lifts one hand off the wall and traces the line of my cheek and jaw, his touch feather-like, his finger pads rough and scratchy.
My skin burns. Fire races down my belly, pooling there, a painful need. A need for him, and the light brush of his corded forearm against my cheek sends tingles to every part of my body. My breasts throb, the tips aching where they are pressed to the compact planes of his chest. The look of deep concentration on his face keeps me still. His eyes are darkening to stormy blue, and the bulge of his hard-on against my belly is growing more insistent.
His thumb slips over my lips, pressing lightly, and I let them part, let him push his thumb inside. He gasps, a jolt going through his body, and overwhelmed by sensation, I release a tiny moan.
A mistake, as it turns out. Jesse withdraws from me, stepping back and lifting his hands as if afraid I’m about to pull a gun and shoot him.
Cold rushes in between us, stealing the warmth left by his body on mine. Cold, and a weird sense of loss.
“Fuck.” He turns in a circle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck!”
I’m breathless, aware of my body like never before, and he seems incensed. The cold intensifies, coming from inside of me, and I shiver, rubbing my hands up and down my arms.
He glances at me, and the blood drains from his face. “Fuck it. I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.”
You are, I want to say, for stopping—but he returns to me, his gaze concerned. He rubs his own hands up and down my arms, big, warm hands, and his scent returns with him, wrapping me up like a hug.
“Are you okay, Embers?” He catches my eye and stares right into me, into my soul, and what he sees there seems to startle him worse than anything else that happened today so far. “Damn.”
“What?” I finally find my voice long enough to whisper.
“I scared you again, didn’t I? Come,” he grabs my hand, tugs lightly. “I promised you coffee.”
Utterly confused, and yet unwilling to leave just yet, I follow him inside.
***
“You never told me what you found,” he says as he putters about the small and chaotic kitchen. There are stacks of dirty dishes in the sink and mugs on the table.
I found you, a voice in my head whispers, and I shut it down. What happened between us—or almost happened—turned my world upside down.
I want Jesse Lee. I can’t hide from this glaring fact any longer.
What I found…
Oh God. I’d completely forgotten about the leather band, and it’s still clutched in one of my hands. I uncurl my fingers slowly, one by one. They’re cramped and stiff from gripping the band so tightly and for so long.
“I, um. I found what you lost.” I lift my hand, palm up, offering the band to him. “Under a cushion on one of the armchairs.” He says nothing, staring at me, his eyes wide, and I forge on, nervousness making my hand shake. “I came by to give it to you. Because you asked for it.”
Holy crap. Shut up, Amber. Just shut the hell up.
He drops the bag of coffee he was holding back on the counter and walks toward me as if in a daze. He lifts the leather band from my hand and stares hard at it, as if unable to believe it’s real. Then he sinks into one of the rickety chairs and slides the leather band over his wrist, fumbling to tie the loose ends into a knot.
Without a second thought, I reach over to help him. He stills when I touch him, doesn’t lift his eyes, but lets me tie the small knot, securing the band in place.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice a little rough. “I… Damn, I really appreciate it.”
I nod, my hand still resting on his wrist. It’s his inked arm, and the thin scars scattered on his skin tickle my palm. His pulse ticks under my fingertips, fast and uneven, when I trace the nearest scar.
“JJ…”
He pulls his hand away and rubs at his eyes. Then he shoves his chair back and staggers to his feet. For a long, frightening moment, I think he may fall, his knees buckling slightly, but he catches himself and walks over to the coffee maker. I don’t dare ask again if he’s okay, let alone ask ab
out the scars, or the bracelet.
That almost kiss made things even more awkward between us than they used to be, and here I thought it wasn’t possible. He jams a filter into the machine, measures out the ground coffee and fills it up with water, his movements jerky. The muscles in his back shift and glide under silky bronze skin, distracting me, as he starts the machine percolating.
His shoulders rise and fall, and he braces his hands on the counter, bowing his head. From the top of his muscled back to his long legs, he is…
Beautiful. So very beautiful. No wonder all the girls want him.
Damn.
“So… Saturday a week from now.” His voice is still rough around the edges, but when he straightens, pours the coffee and returns to the table with two mugs, his step is steady and there’s no sign of anything dark in his expression. “You said you’re going, right?”
Either he’s an excellent actor, or I really imagined the pain I glimpsed in his eyes, and I don’t know which is freaking me out more.
I drag one of the mugs toward me as he takes again his seat across from me, my gaze snagging on the leather band, which is back where it belongs.
“Well, I can’t think of a way to bow out of this one without pissing Ev off.”
“Then go.” He pushes the sugar pot toward me. “You said you wanted to become more sociable and shit. Go and shine.”
Yeah. Put that way… I did say it, didn’t I? It’s what I should try and do.
“It’s not hard,” he says and gives me one of his wicked, lopsided grins that send butterflies tumbling in my stomach.
Well, it really looks like the awkward moment has passed… For him, at least.
“Easy for you to say.” Easy for you to do, to pretend nothing almost happened between us. I glare at him as I grab the sugar and dump two spoonfuls into my coffee. “I need a crash course in sociability.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles, not denying it. “And I need training in shopping.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you? Why is shopping a problem for you?”
He blows on his coffee, his expression distant. “I’m afraid to spend. Afraid to make the wrong choice, and give away my money for something useless. Hell, I don’t even trust banks. I hide my money inside my room.”
My mouth hangs open. “Are you serious?”
He nods, looking sheepish.
“But you have to pay for things, right? Rent, bills, food? How do you do that, if you have trouble spending?”
He shrugs. “I force myself to do it. I mean, I don’t spend much on food. I eat at the café and the taco joint where I work, mostly. I save the rest.”
“What for?”
He puffs out a breath. “For colder days? For when I lose it all again.”
My mug clatters when I put it down hard. “Why would you lose it all? Zane is training you, and I bet he’s got a job lined up for you when training’s over. He and Rafe and the others… they don’t seem to me the kind to kick people out on the curb.”
“You can never tell, though, can you?” His eyes narrow. “It doesn’t matter. That thing you said, about a crash course…”
Wait a minute, is he suggesting…?
I shake my head. “No. No way.”
“You don’t know what I was about to say.”
“Sure I do. I’m a mind-reader.”
His bright smile flashes. “We could help each other out. If you take me shopping, I’ll take you partying. It’s a perfect solution.”
“Read my lips: No.”
“Come on, Embers.” His smile fades and a crease appears between his dark brows. “There’s this wedding reception you’re supposed to attend and don’t want to. There are clothes I’m supposed to buy and I don’t fucking know how. The clothes I buy when left to my own devices are crap, they don’t last the damn month. I need someone… Someone to show me how to spend, crazy as it may sound. Someone to tell me it’s okay to use the money, to buy something good.” He presses his thumbs to his temples, as if fighting a headache. “Would you think about it?”
Holy hell, he is serious.
It’s a crazy idea. Tempting. But crazy. May be fun.
Frigging insane.
I sigh. “My parents believe going out will solve all my problems. I only have to change, get out of my shell.”
When I look up, I see a flash of emotion in his eyes I don’t have the time to decipher before it’s gone. “I don’t think you should change,” he says. “You’re just fine as you are.”
I blink at him. That’s not the reaction I was expecting. It was either a guffaw, or him agreeing with my parents’ assessment.
“I am?”
“Yeah. Why should you pretend to be something you’re not? To like something you don’t? Like parties. If you hate them, then why pretend you don’t?”
God, good question. “Because then I seem like a freak? I mean, everybody likes parties, right?”
“You’re not everybody, and you’re not a freak,” he says, his smile faint, but I think I like it even more than his smirks and wide grins. It feels more real.
And wait, hasn’t he said this before? About me not being everybody? It’s obvious, and yet another meaning lurks between his words, something he’s trying to tell me.
Yeah, or I’m imagining things.
“Come on.” He raises his mug, clinks it with mine. “Say yes. Help me out here. Otherwise I’ll show up at the wedding naked.”
And of course my gaze immediately flicks back to his sculpted chest and arms, and my mouth runs dry. I lick them. He’s putting me in a tight spot there.
“Okay, on one condition.”
He puts down his mug, wary. “Spill.”
“You will answer three questions from me.” And why the heck am I doing this? Curiosity, I think. It’s gotten the better of me.
He stills, not even blinking, for a long unnerving moment. Then he shrugs. “A game, huh? Well, why the hell not? I’m in.”
Wow. I realize I didn’t expect him to agree. What do you know… and what have I gotten myself into?
Too late to back out now, though. “Then it’s a deal.”
PART II
“One day,” Helen says, “our luck will turn. You’ll see. Life can’t keep fucking us up. Something’s gotta give.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, hands in my pockets, trying to pretend I don’t give a fuck about tomorrow, though I know she sees right through me.
She sucks on a cigarette, her slight body leaning against a brick wall. Her black boots are scuffed, her skirt almost non-existent, and her cleavage dips low. She’s badass, she’s fierce, and every time she climbs into a car with a guy, my stomach drops to my feet.
“Believe it, kid,” she whispers conspiratorially, leaning toward me. “Trust in the demon. The demon watching over you and me.” She winks. “Because it sure ain’t no angel.”
~ Jesse
Chapter Ten
Jesse
Absently twisting the leather band on my wrist, I lean back on the wall outside Damage Control and pretend I’m resting my eyes.
Not watching the street like a hawk, waiting for Amber to show up.
Maybe she changed her mind. I wouldn’t blame her one fucking bit. What the hell was I thinking when I suggested this idiotic plan? I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem. Or thinking with my dick and that cold space inside my chest that feels warm when she’s around.
Fuck.
Besides, how will it help if she’s with me? Short of handing my money over to her, I don’t see how I’ll be convinced to spend it, and I’m not handing my money to anyone, not even to pretty, grumpy girls. So, what the fuck, right? I should turn around and leave.
But I don’t move, instead checking the street obsessively, tapping a rhythm with the heel of my boot on the wall and humming a song I hardly recall under my breath.
Until she appears.
A blue summer dress hugs her curves and she wears leather sandals that lace up to her knees. H
er toenails are also painted a light blue, and goddamn, it’s sexy. She’s sexy. With those curves trying to burst through the cloth, her dark hair pinned up and her mouth in a small pout, she’s enough to make me forget my doubts.
Hell, if she asked for my money, I’d pass her my wallet right now, I wouldn’t even care.
Did I mention she’s dangerous? I have to fight to catch my breath as she approaches me and that small pouts turns into a hesitant smile. My jeans are fast growing too tight over my hardening dick, and for the first time since I can remember myself, I’d give my right arm to kiss a girl.
This girl. Only this girl.
Jesus F. Christ.
“Ready?” She adjusts the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder. “We’ve got a bus to catch.”
“Where are we going?” I start after her as she makes a beeline for the bus stop, fascinated by the sway of her ass and her swinging ponytail. It catches the sunlight, breaking into strands of ebony, auburn, copper and gold.
But fuck, that ass…
“It’s a shop Kayla told me about,” she says, “run by a friend of hers. Trust me, it will be good.”
“How so? Have you ever been there? Have you seen their stock?”
“No.” She throws a smile over her shoulder at me, and I hastily look away from her sexy backside. “But I’ve seen photos. And I trust Kayla.”
“You hardly know her!”
Yet that smile stays with me, breaking down my resistance as I jog to keep up.
“Ev vouched for her before I moved into the apartment, and despite some weird glitches in the Matrix, she seems very nice.”
I chuckle. What a strange girl. “What about you? Do they have girly clothes there, too?”
“Girly.” She makes a face as she checks the bus timetable. “If you mean women’s clothes, yes, they do, and no, I still don’t know what to wear. This sucks.”
“I’ll make sure you have fun this time at the reception,” I tell her back, studying the light spattering of freckles on her shoulders. “You’ll see.”
