My eyes widen as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Oh God. Did I really just say that out loud?
He smirks. “Is that what you think I did here?”
Do I? I don’t even know. Kind of, I guess.
“Um … no, well, yes, maybe.” Jesus, I’m stammering—again. I sound like a fool. I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful, because I’m not. Really, I’m not. I was just surprised he left me here, alone with his mom for so long. “I mean no, I don’t really think that. I just like it better when you’re around is all.”
Shoot, I don’t think that was any better either.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Sorry, darlin’,” he murmurs. He looks me over intently, his dimples coming out with a wide smile. “I was thinking we’d go back to my place. That good with you?”
His gaze is thoughtful, and perhaps a touch staggered, but his tone is sincere, as though what I want genuinely matters to him.
Turning around to face him, I say, “Are you planning on staying there with me?” There’s a hopeful note in my voice and my heart skips a beat as I anxiously wait for his answer.
His brow furrows, looking slightly less amused and maybe even a little guilty, but he nods. “Yeah, darlin’, I’ll be staying with you.”
“Okay,” I mutter quietly, letting my gaze fall to the floor, hoping to hide the fresh flush that’s heating my cheeks. “Let’s go.”
After saying a quick goodbye, Jason leads me out through the back door, holding my hand and carrying the bag of goodies Mona packed for me.
He says nothing to me on the drive to his place.
I don’t say anything either.
It’s not an uncomfortable silence, though. If anything, this is the most comfortable I’ve felt in his presence so far.
He holds my hand. I think he enjoys the contact. I know I do. It’s soothing. Relaxing.
How long has it been since I’ve found comfort in such a simple act as holding hands?
Before leaving home, I loved being touched. I was a hugger. A hug a day makes everything okay. And I loved cuddling.
I never realized how much I missed that contact until now.
He pulls the car into the driveway and cuts the engine, sitting there for a moment, before he eventually lets go of my hand, and climbs out of the car. I miss the contact instantly, the warmth of his skin against mine.
I follow him inside, closing the door and kicking off my shoes. My brain starts racing, full of questions I want to ask him. I’m curious. About my case ... About him … About his father … About everything, really.
He drops his keys in a dish on a small table by the door, and lets out an exasperated sigh. “This won’t work if we don’t trust each other.” He mutters the words quietly, not looking at me, as though he doesn’t actually want me to hear them.
But I do.
I hear them so clearly it’s as though he shouted them.
I’m not really certain where this is coming from or where it’s going for that matter, but my mind immediately flies to the text messages I sent his father.
He couldn’t possibly know about them, could he?
My stomach coils.
My hands begin to tremble.
“Trust can’t live with secrets and lies,” I counter, feeling a bit defensive. Okay, more like guilty.
Yes, really, really guilty.
“You’re right.” He sighs again, and rubs a hand over his head. He opens his mouth to say more, but I don’t let him.
“Please don’t get mad,” I blurt, and he immediately shuts his mouth, cocking a questioning brow. “I sent some messages to your dad while I was with Mona.”
“I’m not surprised,” he says, except I don’t believe him. He looks shocked. Annoyed, too.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, and tentatively, I step over to him, holding it out. He stares at the phone coldly, not making a move to take it.
It’s my turn to sigh. I push the phone into his hand. “Read them. I’m going to go take a shower and change.”
Then, before his expression can change from shock to anger, I turn from him, and jog up the stairs, hoping that giving over my phone was the right choice.
Jason
I did not expect that.
I stand here, staring at the phone, blindly. A few minutes pass, five, perhaps more, before I pull my eyes away from it and go to the couch, taking a hard seat.
When I mentioned trust, I’d been thinking about her brother. I thought about it in the car. Wes and Vance are right. Hiding it is probably not a good call.
I was going to tell her.
I was going to fill her in on Liam’s report and my meeting with Cruz.
I glance back at the phone clutched in my hand. I’m curious as to why she bothered to tell me about the messages. She’s been so nervous—unsure—around me, that I hadn’t expected this kind of openness without my prying for it.
What’s changed?
I’m not entirely sure, but something has.
For both of us.
I wake up the phone, coldness running through me, and I hesitate to bring up the messages, entirely uncertain that I want to read the conversation between them.
My old man is like a plague, infecting everything—everyone—I come in touch with. I don’t want it to spread to her.
Shit, my chest squeezes at the thought.
I need to put an end to this shit with my old man.
I want to move on with my life.
I look back at the phone, every muscle in my body seizing up tight, as I bring up the messages.
I take a breath, and another, and then I read.
I read every word. Twice. Three times. I look for hidden meanings. I try to read what’s being said between the words.
But I see nothing.
I slip the phone onto the coffee table, leaning back on the couch, and I close my eyes.
Perhaps she really doesn’t know anything.
But if that’s right, then what the hell is my old man doing?
Elena
I shower, careful not to get my hair wet. I take my time with my make-up, and then I stress a little over what to wear. I don’t have much to choose from, and I end up settling on a pair of black boot-cut jeans, and an off-white scoop neck peasant top, with black floral embroidery.
When I come back downstairs, Jason is sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, laptop propped on his thighs.
I edge toward him cautiously, studying him, attempting to judge his mood. I don’t think he notices me. His fingers are flying across the keyboard.
I stand there silently for a moment, waiting, debating whether I should speak up or not. A part of me wants to shuffle back, before he notices me.
Hesitating, I glance back toward the stairs.
“Come here,” he says. “I’ll just be a second.”
I guess he does notice me standing here.
I swing my head back to him. He’s still staring at the computer screen. Still typing.
I don’t go to him right away. I have the urge to fidget, so I quickly stuff my hands in my pockets, stopping myself before I can start. “Did you read the messages?”
His brow furrows at my question. “Yes,” he says, a bitter bite in his tone, and still he doesn’t look up.
I laugh nervously, unsure what to make of his one-word response. “Are you mad?”
“No.”
That’s it. That’s all he says. Another one-word answer.
I don’t know if I believe him.
Uncertainly, I sit beside him, leaving about a foot of space between us. I’m frowning, looking right at him, but he just keeps typing.
I sit quietly for a few minutes, before clearing my throat.
That seems to draw his attention. He glances at me, offering up a lazy one-sided smile and with a few clicks, he closes the laptop and sets it on the coffee table. He leans back, centering his gaze on me. He’s so quiet, taking me in that I start to get a touch self-conscious, and I shift,
fidgeting in my seat.
Slowly, he reaches out, tucking my loose hair behind my ear, his gaze following his hand as it brushes along my skin. I try to keep eye contact, but I can’t. His gaze is so intense it has me squirming.
He notices.
Of course he notices.
Jason grins, chuckling under his breath, and in a swift motion, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap.
I gasp, surprised, and my hands come up to his chest, steadying myself. “What are you doing?”
“I like touching you,” he says seriously. “I like you in my arms, and I think you like being here, too.”
I do. I don’t deny it, but I don’t admit it either. From the look he’s giving me, I don’t need to anyway.
He sees it.
He knows.
“And,” he continues, “if I’m holding onto you, you can’t run away when I tell you what I need to tell you.”
Oh. That doesn’t sound good.
I swallow thickly, and press my hands into my thighs. “What do you need to tell me?”
“I heard from Liam,” he says. “Your fiancée—”
“He’s not my fiancée,” I grumble, cutting him off. “He never really was. I didn’t say yes. I didn’t want it.”
Jason chuckles and his arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. “Good to know.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smile that pulls at my lips. “What did Liam say?”
“Peck’s been having breakfast with your parents almost daily since you left.” His voice has a hint of anger behind it, a bitterness, as though his statement leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
I just stare at him, stunned. “You can’t be serious.”
Eyeing me warily, he nods. “He’s probably hoping you’ll call them at some point. If he stays in touch, they’ll be more likely to let him know.”
Makes sense, but still …
Suddenly, I feel sick. I left, not just for me but also to get that asshole away from my family, and all this time he’s been playing the worried fiancée, checking in with my parents?
Before I can get out a word, he continues, “He also arrested your brother today.”
Wait. What?
He arrested my brother?
No. No, no, no. He wouldn’t do that, would he?
Oh God.
My eyes get hot, my breath catches, and my heart jumps into my throat. “No,” I whisper. “No, that doesn’t make sense. It’s been a year. Why would he do it now?”
“Don’t know why yet,” he tells me calmly. “Could be he caught wind of you again and is trying to flush you out, or maybe your brother fucked up again. I’ve got a detective here looking into it. I should know more soon.”
“I’ve got to go,” I whisper.
“No.” His arms tighten like a vice around me. “What you need to do is stay here.”
He means that. I can tell from the tone of his voice that this isn’t something that’s up for discussion.
But I can’t do it.
“I need to help him,” I snap. “This is my fault.” I push at his arms, trying to get up, but it’s useless. Just like this morning, he holds me tight, snatching ahold of my hands, pinning them to my chest, keeping me still. His grip is strong, relentless.
“What you need to do is sit here and wait,” he says, his voice strained. “I’ve got people watching Peck and looking into your brother. There’s nothing you can do for him right now.”
I stare at him a moment, baffled by what he’s asking me to do. “So what you’re saying is, you want me to just sit back and hang out here.”
“Yeah, darlin’, that’s what I’m saying.”
“But shouldn’t we be doing something?” I ask. “Maybe we should go to New York. We could follow him. Isn’t that what PIs do? Stalk people. Watch them. Dig around for evidence.”
He laughs, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “I’ve got someone following him. Taking you back there isn’t going to do any more than what’s already being done.”
I shake my head. “I can’t just sit here hiding.”
“Yes, you can,” he says right away, his tone sharp. “You’ve been hiding for a year. What’s a few more weeks gonna change?”
“Exactly. I’ve been hiding for a year. I’m sick of hiding.” I pause, eyeing him. “If I wanted to stay hidden, I wouldn’t have come here. I need to do something. I need to help my brother.”
What’s left of his smile fades, and he loosens up on his hold, reaching up a hand and cupping my chin. “Elena, just give me some time,” he says. “Please, I’m asking you to give me time to figure this out. I’ll get you through this, I swear it. You just need to trust me, yeah?”
I hesitate, contemplating, and then I nod. I’m not really sure what else to do right now. It’s not like he’s about to let me go, and he sounds so sincere.
I believe him.
He laughs under his breath, and flashes his dimples. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re not running away from me.”
And then, he leans forward and he kisses me.
Chapter Thirteen
Elena
I hesitate.
Oh God, I hesitate.
I don’t know why. I don’t mean to. I don’t want to.
But my traitorous body stiffens, and nerves, those blasted nerves, fill my belly, jumping around worse than ever before.
What the hell is happening here? One second we’re talking about my brother being arrested, and the next, his mouth is on mine. Not that I’m complaining. Just startled. Yes, startled, that’s it.
When was the last time I kissed someone? One year and … three days ago?
Peck.
I shiver. The last person to kiss my lips was Peck.
Jason pulls back, leaning away from me, looking me over. His brow furrows. “You okay, darlin’?”
I bite my bottom lip and nod, not trusting my voice.
“You want me to stop?” he asks, bringing his thumb up to my lip, pulling it free of my teeth.
“No.” My voice squeaks. Ugh, of course it has to squeak. I feel my face heating, my entire body heating.
He watches me for a second, his eyes half-mast, burning a path along my face as they fall to my lips. A hint of a smile takes over his face as he moves back in, claiming my mouth once more.
His lips are soft, warm, and his kiss is gentle, tentative. His hand curls around the back of my neck, tilting my head slightly, and he licks a path along the seam of my lips.
I open for him, slowly, shyly. I shouldn’t, but I do. Everything in me tells me not to. This—whatever this is—can’t go anywhere, no matter how much I’m beginning to like him.
But it feels so, so good.
I don’t want to stop. My body doesn’t want to stop.
His thumb sweeps along my jawline, and his kiss turns from soft to hard, taking my breath away. His tongue seeks mine out, explores my mouth, and I melt.
Completely dissolve, liquefying, in his arms.
I forget about everything. My brother, my parents, Peck. Nothing matters. Nothing but this moment.
Tiny jolts of electricity spread through me as his lips leave my mouth, dipping to my jaw, and trailing down my neck. He licks, kisses, nibbles at my skin, as his hand slips under my top, exploring the small of my back.
I’m panting, sucking in breath after breath. I squirm on his lap, wanting to get closer, and he brings his mouth back to mine.
Best first kiss ever.
Jason pulls back abruptly, stiffening, and before I can recover, he lifts me, placing me on the couch, and he’s suddenly on his feet, striding toward the door.
I hear it then. A rattle. The click of a lock.
The front door swings open before Jason reaches it, and Wes strolls in with a case of beer tucked under his arm and a grocery bag, dangling from his hand.
Seeing Wes, that huge grin on his face, is like being doused with a fire hose. My skin cools instantly and although I feel a t
ouch of disappointment at being interrupted, a rush of relief also washes in.
It’s conflicting. I’m conflicted.
And I’m a little embarrassed, too.
That kiss got intense fast.
Too fast.
Wes looks right at me, lifting his chin. “Yo.”
I wave. It’s all I can do as I try to catch my breath and Wes chuckles, shaking his head, amused.
Jason glares at him, taking in the beer, the bag, and the huge grin on Wes’s face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”
I’m taken aback by the harsh tone, but Wes isn’t. Not at all.
He laughs. “Barbeque,” he says as though it’s obvious. “We owe Elena a birthday drink and if she’s gonna drink, she’s gotta eat, too.”
Jason glances at his watch. “It’s barely one o’clock.”
He’s pissed. I can hear it in his voice. See it in his glare.
My breath is evening out, but my lips are tingling and I’m certain they’re plump and red. I’m sure Wes notices it. His wide grin tells me he probably does.
Wes laughs and pats Jason on the back. “Perfect time for a barbeque. Vance will be here in ten.”
Jason glances at me, before looking back to Wes. “I’m taking her out tonight.”
Instead of responding, Wes heads for the kitchen. He pauses as he passes me, his eyes scanning me over. His smile broadens and he reaches over the back of the couch, tugging on a curl. “Your hair looks fuckin’ hot.”
I blush furiously at the compliment, and smile nervously. “Um, thanks?”
Jason is staring at Wes, unblinking, unmoving, his hands fisted at his sides, and for whatever reason, Wes finds this amusing. He laughs, a full rolling laugh, and drops my hair, shaking his head, and moves off, into the kitchen.
Sighing loudly, Jason steps back over to me. He reaches out, brushing a thumb along my bottom lip, before leaning in and kissing me gently. Suddenly, I feel warm all over again, and when he pulls back, I make a sound, a quiet whimper.
“Looks like we’re having a fuckin’ barbeque,” Jason grumbles after a moment.
I shrug, attempting nonchalance. “I like barbeques, and I think I could use a drink right about now.”