My stomach plummeted to the floor. That was my fear. Suddenly, my heart broke for Jet. Hadn’t I already witnessed this sort of self-sacrifice with Crew? With Cassidy?
I glanced back at the door. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run into the kitchen and be that protection for Jet. More than I’d wanted to do anything else in my entire life. “We should help him,” I said under my breath, not really meaning for Brit to hear.
She placed her palm against the wood of the door. “No. It will only make things worse. We stay here until he comes to get us.” I could see the tears brimming in her eyes as I glanced over at her. “It’s his rule.”
I wanted to push her aside. I wanted to run to Jet. To protect him. But from the desperation in her gaze, I knew I shouldn’t. I needed to stay rooted to this spot. If that was his wish, I’d give it to him.
It was sheer torture standing there next to the door, willing it to open. I kept leaning toward it, straining to hear if he was coming down the hall. But all I could hear was the faint sound of voices until there was nothing. No sound.
I folded my arms and tipped my head up as I leaned against the wall. I closed my eyes and thought about Jet.
I thought about what he was doing for Brit. For his family. How selfless he was.
And suddenly, I felt horrible. Here I was, complaining about the fact that my family was trying to take care of me in the best—albeit barbaric—way they knew how.
I mean, sure, my parents wanted to marry me off to cement a business partnership, but at least they didn’t abuse me. Or force me to protect other people in my life from them.
I was acting like a selfish brat.
Ugh. I disliked myself a lot right now.
And the fact that I kept questioning if I should go to Italy or not, even though it was pretty obvious that going would help Jet’s family, made me feel even worse.
I was a terrible person.
I tipped my head forward and studied Brit and Cassidy.
Brit had made her way up into Cassidy’s bed, and all I could see were the tips of their toes and the soft melody of their voices.
An overwhelming desire to protect them—to protect Jet—came over me. Even though we’d just met, I cared about him. I wanted to see him happy. I needed him to be.
That was why, when this weekend was over, I was leaving for Italy.
I was going to do whatever it took to make sure the deal between the Espositos and Livingstones took place. It was the least I could do.
After all, if this was my final hurrah, I might as well go out with a bang.
Footsteps came down the hallway, and I straightened and peered over at the door. I tried to calm my nerves as I watched the handle turn and the crack between the door and the frame widen.
“He’s gone,” Jet’s low voice said from the hall. He had his face dipped down, and even though I couldn’t see it, I knew something was wrong.
He avoided my gaze as he turned and made his way down the hall and into the bathroom. I followed after him, recognizing that retreat. I’d made it so many times in the past.
“Jet,” I said, reaching out to grab his elbow.
He hesitated but kept his face hidden. “Let me go, Brielle.”
I shook my head, fearing the worst. I wasn’t going to let him go. I couldn’t. I was here for him. I needed to be needed.
“Please. Let me see.”
For a moment, I thought he was going to look up. I thought he was going to let me in. Instead, he ducked past me and into the bathroom, where he shut the door.
Rage and anger coursed through me as I grabbed the door handle and turned. Thankfully, I seemed to have caught him right before he locked the door. I pushed the door open.
That must have thrown Jet off guard because I was suddenly staring at his very bloody, surprised face.
My body went numb as I stared at the broken skin across his cheekbone and his bleeding lip. His eye had begun to swell, but he still mustered an annoyed look.
“Brielle, what are you doing?”
I forced myself to put aside my fear and be there for him. Before he could push me out the door, I moved past him and over to the tub. I folded my arms. “I’m helping. You’re not going to do this alone.”
He studied me, and then he sighed. He glanced into the hallway to check if anyone was around and then shut and locked the door. He turned back to me, clearly frustrated.
“I have no say?” he asked.
I shook my head.
And that was the truth. We were friends. I was going to be there for him whether he liked it or not.
Chapter Eleven
Now that I was locked in the bathroom with Jet, I began to wonder if I’d made the right choice. After all, I was supposed to be fighting my feelings for him, not putting myself in situations that would bring us closer to each other emotionally and physically.
This bathroom was tiny, so I couldn’t avoid brushing against him. But Jet didn’t seem to notice our predicament. He stood in front of the vanity, staring in the mirror. He leaned forward and gingerly touched his face. He must have gotten close to the cut because he winced as he dropped his hand.
I moved closer to him. “Sit,” I said, pointing to the toilet.
Jet glanced over at me. “What?”
“Sit,” I repeated. “I’m at least going to help you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you a nurse?”
I shook my head. “No. But I’ve been to a few parties that ended with guys being stupid.”
He chuckled as he moved over to the toilet and sat down. He glanced up at me. “I’m not going to lie, I kind of want to see that.”
“Me at a party?”
He nodded. “I have a hard time believing that you live this deviant life.” His tone was low and a tad mocking.
I dropped my jaw. “Yeah, well, I’ll have you know I’ve been known to paint the town.”
His chuckle turned into a laugh. His wide smile caused him to wince and gingerly touch his cheek.
“Serves you right,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him.
His laugh subsided. A thick silence fell around us, and for a moment, I wanted to go back to the laughter. At least then there wasn’t any of this mystery about what he was feeling.
“Washcloth,” I said, needing to busy myself.
Jet pointed to the cupboard above him. I nodded and then leaned over him to open one of the doors.
That was a mistake. Suddenly, I found myself inches away from Jet. I could feel his breath against my skin, and I felt his gaze on me as he glanced up.
And, stupid me, I glanced down to meet his gaze.
My stomach lightened as I stared into his eyes. They were dark and stormy, like he was holding onto something that was physically hurting him. And I had a pretty good idea what it was.
His dad.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
His brow furrowed. “For what?”
I swallowed as I turned my attention back to the cupboard and pulled out a clean washcloth. Tears were building up in my eyes and I didn’t want to lose what little control I had over my emotions. I feared that if I let the dam break, I was never going to be able to put it back.
With the washcloth in hand, I turned on the water and waited for it to turn warm.
“It’s not your fault,” Jet said, his voice breaking through my thoughts.
I glanced over at him to see his expression had softened as he studied me.
I nodded as I rung out the soaking wet washcloth and walked the two steps over to him. I hated that I was making him feel like he needed to comfort me. He was the one that had been hurt, not me. And yet, he was taking care of me, like that was his job.
I wanted to actually do something for him, so I pushed out my feelings as I zeroed in on his cuts. “This might sting.”
Jet shrugged. “I’m tough.”
I nodded. “I know.”
I hated how intently he was studying me as I began to dab the washcloth against h
is skin. He winced a few times as I brushed the material over the open wound, but that was it. He was stoic the rest of the time.
What was he thinking? My entire body burned with curiosity.
Was he feeling things too or was it only me?
“Are you enjoying your weekend?” he asked.
Relieved to be talking about something besides my feelings, I nodded. “Yeah. It’s been eventful. A lot more exciting than what I’m used to.”
Jet folded his arms. “I find that hard to believe. Why would someone want to slum it with me when they’re used to caviar and cocktail parties?”
I shook my head. “That’s not me. That’s my parents. They care about that kind of stuff. I just want...” My voice broke, and suddenly I felt weak and vulnerable. I wasn’t sure if I was okay with opening myself up to Jet like that. Because if I did, I wasn’t ever going to be able to take it back.
And I was leaving on Sunday. I knew that. Keeping myself guarded was the only way I would get through boarding that airplane for Italy. The only way I was going to be able to accomplish whatever my family needed me to do so that this deal went through.
My relationship with Jet wasn’t part of that deal. It had no place in my future.
But when he reached up and wrapped his hand around my wrist, the warmth that filled my soul sent shivers through my body. I could feel his eyes on me as he waited for me to acknowledge him.
There was this pull inside of me. On the one hand, I wanted to look. I wanted to dive headfirst into my feelings for Jet. I wanted to care for him in a raw and unabashed way. But the other part of me, the part that was trying to protect my heart, was telling me not to look. Because I knew once I did, there was no going back.
I was falling hard for Jet.
“Brielle,” he said. His voice was deep and full of tension. It sent pulses of pleasure throughout my body. The part of me that wanted to meet his gaze was winning out. My resolve to keep my distance seemed foolish and ridiculous.
What would looking at him hurt?
“Yes?” I asked, keeping my eyes trained on his hand.
“Look at me.”
I pinched my lips together as I shook my head. “I can’t.”
His other hand appeared in my line of sight as he rested his finger under my chin. He applied soft pressure, guiding my gaze up to meet his.
And when I looked into his eyes, all my worry, all my fear, subsided.
“What do you want?” he asked.
I swallowed back the emotions that were exploding inside of me. I held his gaze like he was a life raft and I was drowning. I wasn’t sure how to articulate exactly what I wanted. How does one say that they want their parents to care about them enough to pay attention to them. To care for them enough to not force them into a relationship their child hadn’t chosen?
How does someone say that they’ve felt lonely their entire life, even though they’d always been surrounded by people?
And then I knew. I knew what I’d been looking for. What I wanted.
“To be loved.” My voice broke as I held his gaze.
His expression stilled as he studied me. Suddenly, he was standing. His finger still pressed against my chin as if he feared that I’d back away.
And I’m not going to lie, that thought had crossed my mind.
But, as he stood there staring down at me, his warmth washing over me, all I wanted to do was lean in. To fall into Jet. To care for him in all the ways I’d been wanting someone to care for me.
He dropped my wrist and, with his now free hand, wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. He leaned into me, his lips inches from mine.
I could feel his breath grow heavy and his heart pick up speed as I sprawled my hands against his chest. Even though we’d kissed earlier today, this felt different.
This had meaning in it. Intention.
I could feel his struggle as he fought this primal desire to kiss me. It was just like the one going on inside of me. The desire to kiss weighed against the need to protect ourselves.
A staccato knock sounded on the door, causing Jet and I to jump apart. I dropped my hands to my side as Jet pushed his through his hair and sat back down on the toilet.
I swallowed back all the feelings that had woken in my soul from being held by him. In a desperate desire to distract myself, I turned the water back on and ran it over the washcloth.
“Who is it?” Jet asked, his voice startling me.
I forced myself to calm down. I needed to be better at keeping him at a distance, or I was doomed.
“Cassidy,” she said.
I glanced over at him, and I could see the worry etched on his features. He shook his head and I nodded, knowing exactly how he felt. He didn’t want Cassidy to see him like this, and I didn’t blame him.
I held up my hand as I turned to the door and unlocked it. Then I pulled it open a few inches so she could barely see into the bathroom.
“He’ll be a minute, sweetie.”
Cassidy’s eyebrows were drawn together and I could see her chin quivering as she tried to look inside. “Is Jet okay?”
I gave her my calmest smile. “He’s great. Just a little cut, that’s all. I’m going to fix him up and he’ll be out in no time.”
She glanced up at me and I could see the worry in her gaze.
“Do you know what would help him feel better?” I said.
She nodded, tears brimming her lids.
“A picture. Of you two.” I steadied my gaze and widened my eyes. “Do you think you could do that?”
Her forehead creased, and then she nodded. “Yes.”
I reached around the door and gave her a high-five. “By the time you’re done, he’ll be out.”
She smiled, and before I could say anything else, she sprinted down the hallway to her room.
With her gone, I returned to Jet, shutting the door softly behind me. I glanced over to see him studying me. I forced down the butterflies that had decided to wake up inside my stomach and returned to the faucet.
Once the washcloth was ready, I continued to wash the cuts on Jet’s face. Thankfully, he didn’t push me to talk again. I worked in silence, cleaning the cuts and then applying antibiotic cream.
I offered to put on a princess bandage, but he held up his hand.
“I’m good,” he said.
I shrugged as I put everything away. Jet stood and glanced into the mirror, turning his face from one side to the next.
“Nice job, Blondie,” he said, glancing over at me and winking.
I rolled my eyes, making sure he understood my meaning. “Really?”
He shrugged as his hand fell to his shirt, where some blood had dropped. Suddenly, he was pulling his shirt off over his head.
I stood there, staring at his incredibly toned and tanned body. I mean, I knew there were muscles under his shirt—I’d felt them whenever I’d been pressed against him—but there was definitely something different about staring at them.
His chuckle drew me from my trance, and heat rushed across my skin to settle in my cheeks.
“You okay?” he asked with a light, mocking tone to his voice. He held his shirt in his hands. “You’re looking a bit flushed.”
I glared at him as I folded my arms. “You couldn’t wait until you were in your room”—I waved my hand toward his chest—”to do that?”
His gaze darted around the bathroom. “People normally take their shirts off in the bathroom, do they not?”
I could literally feel my body temperature rising, but I wasn’t going to let him win this. “Yes.”
He motioned to the walls around us. “And we are in the bathroom, right?”
I shook my head. “Still, how would you like it if I started removing my clothes?” I clamped my mouth shut. My body was on fire now. Why was I still talking?
Jet shrugged. “I’ll do what I’ve gotta do. You do what you’ve gotta do.”
I growled as I started pushing him toward the door. “It’s time for y
ou to go.”
He protested, pushing himself back into the bathroom. “May I remind you that you were the one who followed me in here.”
I shook my head as I pushed against his arm. “I need a moment.”
He slowly started moving toward the door. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”
I nodded. “Great. Then my plan is working. I am trying to get rid of you.”
He stopped and dropped his gaze down to meet mine. “Ouch. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”
Exasperated, I dropped my hands and glared at him. “We won’t be if you don’t let me pee.”
He chuckled as he reached out and grabbed the door handle. He swept his gaze over me, causing my heart to beat harder and faster than it had ever done. If Jet didn’t leave now, he’d realize just how hard it was for me to keep my distance. He’d discover what I was really trying hard to fight.
I was falling for him.
Hard.
His gaze met mine, and he held it for a moment. Then he sighed as he turned the handle and pulled open the door. I almost let out my breath as he stepped out into the hall, but then he turned, resting his arms on either side of the doorway. “Thanks for cleaning me up,” he said. The smile that emerged on his lips just about turned my knees to jelly.
I nodded. “Anytime.”
He paused and then allowed me to shut the door. I collapsed on the toilet, grateful to give my body a break. It took a lot of control to fight my feelings for Jet, and I was exhausted.
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. My heart was still racing, and my cheeks were burning from the memory of Jet so close to me. I shook my head.
Why did I think it would be smart to get into a tiny bathroom with him? Did I have a death wish?
I chewed my lip as I straightened. I needed a distraction. Something to pull me out of this confusing mess I’d put myself in. After all, how did I think I could do this? Would keeping away from Jet be enough to not break my heart when I left?
That was stupid. There was no way I was going to come out of this weekend unscathed.
Rule #5: You Can’t Trust The Bad Boy: The Rules of Love Series Book 5 Page 10
