Her cakes are so good that I'm inclined to believe she's right.
Shrugging off my jacket, unwinding the scarf from my neck, I sink into the sofa.
"You haven't answered my first question." I take off my high heels and lean back, letting the warmth of the room seep into my chilled skin. "What were you doing, sitting in the dark? That was creepy."
"I wasn't alone." He lifts a glass with amber liquid.
"That's not healthy." I sigh. "Gimme."
Chuckling, he passes me his glass, and I take a sip. "Ugh." It burns. "What's this, battery acid?"
He retrieves the glass, still chuckling. "It's a manly drink. Too potent for the likes of you."
"Pff. It sounds like you've been reading epic fantasy again."
"Get thee hence, maid, and pour me some ale," he intones, trying to keep a straight face.
I laugh and tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear. "Alright. And what were you doing here, meditating with the elves?"
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Things."
"You mean girls. Girls are not things, brother."
He shrugs. Sits down beside me. "Doesn't matter either way. I'm done thinking. So what's up? Why are you back so early? Did something happen with Syd?"
"Why would you say that?" A shudder runs through me as I remember her down on the grass, her eyes round as Jarett fought off the two other guys. Drug dealers. Whatever they were.
Merc gives another shrug. "The other day I overheard some of the things you were discussing, is all."
"Yeah?" I cast my mind back, trying to remember what he might have heard. "So?"
"So I know something happened with that guy, Jarett. Did she sleep with him?"
"What? Of course not." My heart booms just at the thought.
God.
"Okay, relax. I thought you were mad at her, that's all. And since you're in love with Jarett … "
I shoot to my feet. "Holy frigging crap, I'm not in love with Jarett, okay? How many times do I have to say it?"
"Whoa." He lifts his hands, the booze sloshing in the glass, brows shooting up to his hairline. "I thought that was an established fact."
"It's not … jeez, Merc. It's not a fact." I walk over to the window, then turn back around. "And that's not why Syd and I fought."
"So you did fight. I knew it. You had that constipated expression on your face you always get when you're mad."
"What? I don't do that."
"Sure you do. Like this." He crosses his eyes and frowns, mouth pursed. "Exactly like this."
Oh my God. I clap a hand over my mouth, snickering madly, momentarily distracted from thoughts of Sydney and Jarett. "You look like a deranged alien rabbit."
And then I smell Jarett on my hand, even though I washed it before leaving the frat house, and my whole body clenches so hard and deep with desire that I gasp.
"Gigi?" Merc gets to his feet, his frown real this time. "What is it?"
"Nothing." Hand still over my mouth, I return to the sofa and sit back down. "I'm fine."
"You sure? You can tell me." He sits down beside me. "Maybe I should pour you a drink, too."
"Maybe you should."
I can't talk to my brother about this. He'll probably go shoot Jarett and then lock me up in my room and stand guard outside. Merc is pretty protective, even if he's a year younger than me.
Okay, I doubt he'd shoot Jarett. Punch him in the face, maybe. Hard.
"Tell me what happened." He hands me a fresh glass with the radioactive booze he's been drinking. I think it's whiskey. Cheap whiskey. "Do I need to go kick ass?"
See?
"Nah, I'm good." If I couldn't still taste Jarett's lips, hear his ragged breathing, feel that powerful body convulse with pleasure against me … "Pinky swear."
God, my own body is strung tight like a violin string. Something has to give, or I won't be able to sleep tonight.
"Did Sydney do something to upset you again?"
"No … yes. She's been acting weird." The whiskey tastes better the more I drink-or maybe it burned off my taste buds. "Reckless."
"Why?"
"No idea. She won't tell me. She gets herself into danger, and then Jarett saved her ass-"
"Wait, what? Rewind."
I put down the glass, lick whiskey off my lips. "He fought with two thugs, and she was sitting on her ass in the wet grass, and he had this frigging huge bruise on his face, and blood, and I just … " I wave the glass, and suddenly it's all too funny. "I just grabbed Syd and dragged her inside, leaving him there."
Merc's brows rise. "Seriously. And then?"
"Then he came in, and I … " I take another sip. Hey, my glass is empty. I shake it, in case it magically refills itself. "I took his hand, and … "
"And?" Merc removes the glass from my hand. "Focus, Gigi. What the hell happened?"
"Nothing happened." I shrug, and pout. "That's it! Can I have some more battery acid, please?"
"No. How can you be wasted with just this?" He gives my glass a disgusted look. "What the fuck did you drink at this party you went to?"
"Um. Some shots?"
"You're a fucking lightweight. I worry about you."
I worry about me, too. Especially with this business with Jarett. Because he did take out those thugs, chased them away, and I'd feel much better knowing Sydney has his protection. Who else would have kept her safe?
I saw him take the thugs down, watched the end of the fight from the door, frozen, not sure what to do. Jarett unleashing violence on those douchebags was beautiful to watch. He moved like a dancer, every movement sleek and smooth, power uncoiling with every strike, every punch connecting.
Brutal.
Lethal.
Hot.
"You seem to be seeing Jarett everywhere you go lately," Merc mutters, swirling his drink in his glass.
I open my mouth to deny that, but nothing comes out. Crap, Merc is right. Jarett was there every time Sydney was in trouble these past couple of weeks.
Why?
"Look, I don't like you seeing him," Merc says, glancing sideways at me, worry lines creasing his forehead. "I was hoping you'd get over him. In fact, I thought you had by now."
"Why?"
"Because last I heard, he'd been hanging out with a gang, and you don't want to be around guys like that, trust me."
"Gang?" I roll the word in my mind. I don't understand … "Jarett's in a gang?"
"That's what I heard. Happened to overhear a girl talk about him at work. She, uh, was interested in him-"
"She wanted into his pants."
"Well, she was talking about the size of his dick, so-"
"She slept with him?"
Merc winces. "I guess."
"That bitch."
He snorts and shakes his head, grinning. "You've got it bad, Gigi."
I don't. I don't give a damn about Jarett and his conquests, or his dick.
Seriously.
The dick I held in my hand tonight, that I stroked and squeezed until Jarett shook against me and came, his cum scalding hot, his face tight with pleasure.
I did that to him. He was hard because he wanted me, and God … I wanted him, too.
"I'm going to bed," I declare to the living room and Merc, and get unsteadily to my feet. "Good night."
"Need help to go up?"
"I'm good," I mutter, and drag myself upstairs. "I'm done."
Please dear God, let this be over. If Jarett breaks my heart, without even knowing he has that power, that'd be too much.
It's not until I'm up in my room that I realize Merc never did tell me what he was really doing in the dark, what girl he was thinking about and what the problem is.
Crap.
Alone in bed, I listen to some music, but I yank the earphones out before the song is over. My head is pounding. I squirm under the covers, in my soft cotton jammies, and grab a book to read from my nightstand, a sci-fi classic Merc has been pestering me to read for a while.
But the words swim on the page. I rub at my eyes and reread the same paragraph, but it's no use. Who cares about alien spaceships and distant planets when my brain is busy replaying the evening in every tiny detail, from the fear of not finding Sydney, to the worry at seeing Jarett's bruised face, and then the toe-curling sensation of his mouth on mine, and then …
I push the book off the bed, letting it drop to the floor.
My body is thrumming with arousal. I can't sleep, and I can't listen to music, or read, caught in this web of desire.
Jarett, Jarett. Shit, how do I fight this attraction? How can I stop thinking about him?
My hand dips down, between my legs. I don't often pleasure myself, and that's not because I don't enjoy it. Orgasm without the complications of being with a guy, of safety precautions and the puzzle of trying to fit together and get enough stimulation to come before he comes and loses interest in the proceedings … it's all good.