Why is he so lost?
His breathing is even, his face relaxed, one inked arm folded under his head, the other over the covers. He has a light dark stubble on his jaw, and his lips are slightly parted. His dark hair has dried, and it falls messily over his forehead, and I see his strong collarbone through the T-shirt's neckline. His broad chest rises and falls, and oh man, it's still so hard to believe he's in my bed. Like I should grab my phone and take pictures as proof.
But I don't.
Instead I find myself holding my breath, transfixed. He's so beautiful. And I stand there, observing him as he sleeps, feeling like Edward observing Bella sleep in an inverted Twilight world.
Don't be a creepy perv, I tell myself, but I can't stop looking, and now I know what Edward must have felt.
Apart from the blood craving, that is.
He twitches suddenly, lashes fluttering, and I open my mouth to say something, anything, when his eyes open and fix on me.
Standing there.
Staring at him.
Shit.
But he only blinks a few times, his expression puzzled, and then a smile spreads on his face. It's soft, and sweet, and breathtaking.
I approach the bed, and he lifts the quilt to let me in beside him.
Surreal. This is surreal.
I've never slept with a guy in the same bed before. Okay, except maybe with Merc when we were little, but not since I grew boobs.
My whole body tingles as I ease in between the sheets, expecting cold and finding them warm from his body. I'm hyper-aware of how close we are, closer than ever, even though we're both fully dressed and not even touching.
He's eyes are heavy-lidded, a transparent green in the light from my bedside lamp, and I'm caught in them, in the golden and the darker flecks swimming in their depths. His mouth is soft from sleep, and I want to kiss him so much it hurts.
"Gigi," he breathes, and I clench my hands so I won't reach for him.
"Shall I turn off the light?"
"Not yet. I wanna look at you."
I smile at him. "Are you even awake?"
"More than ever."
I swallow hard, my face warming up. "You were asleep when I came in."
"I dreamed you were sleeping beside me," he says, his voice a little rough, and it does strange things to my body, and my heart. "And then … you were gone."
"I'm here," I say softly.
He shifts on the mattress, lifts a hand to shove hair out of his eyes. "Yeah." He frowns. "I've always wanted to ask you this … Why did you move here, to this city?"
"Destiny sucked." I roll one shoulder in a shrug. "Quite bad. We were bullied there, and then my sister got involved with a guy and a stalker came after her and almost killed her."
He lifts his head off the pillow and stares, eyes flashing. "You fucking serious? And what happened with that guy?"
"Oh she married him and is about to have his baby." I grin at Jarett. "Not the psycho stalker. The other guy."
He huffs a laugh. "This isn't funny, Gigi. You never told me this."
"Like you told me all about yourself?"
He falls quiet for a bit after that, and I regret my comeback, just a little. Finally, he lets his head drop back on the pillow. "You were bullied?"
Me and my big mouth. "Yeah, happens to lots of kids."
"Don't, okay? Don't make light of it. Goddammit. And here I was, asking you to pay me back with sex and blowjobs."
"It wasn't the same." I give him a sideways glance, smile. "I wanted you. I want you. And I feel safe with you."
He gives a bark of laughter and mutters something like a curse under his breath.
But I'm serious. "Do you know why I always followed you after school?"
"Cuz you thought I looked hot?" He looks at me from under his long lashes.
I punch his arm. "Be serious."
He laughs, then rubs a hand over his mouth. "Why, then?"
"Because you looked super-hot," I admit, and I'm rewarded with the return of his smile. "But also strong, and tough. Intimidating. Like you could protect me."
His smile fades in a flash and his eyes narrow. "What did they do to you, Gigi? Back in Destiny. Tell me."
I chew on the inside of my cheek. "It was nothing."
"I don't believe you. And here? Did you get that here, too?
"No. Here it wasn't that bad," I whisper.
"Not that bad?" He lets out a growl that raises the hairs on my arms. "Fucking hell. I'm gonna kill those bastards for touching you." His hands are curling into fists. "You never said. Why the fuck didn't you ever say anything to me about it?"
He's shaking with tension, with anger, and I should be scared, he's like a powerhouse about to explode into action and violence.
But somehow I'm not. He's not angry at me, but for me, and it's sweet. "Because you kept them at bay anyway. They'd see you and run. They knew you hung out with me and stayed away." I put a hand on his coiled biceps, tug him back. "You protected me, even if you didn't know it, back then."
He lets out a breath. Looks sideways at me, his gaze uncertain. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You wouldn't lie about that?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die."
He lies back down, his handsome face thoughtful. "I fucking hate that I didn't know about it, and I hate even more that it happened to you."
"It was years ago," I tell him gently.
"But the scars don't fade easily," he whispers, and just as a bad suspicion creeps into my mind and I want to ask if he was also hurt in the past, he says even more softly, "Can I hold you?"
I can't speak, my throat clogging up.
This boy.
A nice boy, Mom said. A good boy.
But he's more. To me.
"Come here." He stretches out his inked arm over my pillow, and after a second's hesitation I roll on my side and snuggle up against him. "Yeah, like that. Comfy?"
His voice rumbles in his chest and right through me as I place a hand over his muscled stomach.
I hum in response.
"Gigi … "
"I like you, Jarett," I whisper. "I wish you'd like me enough to pull back from all the bad shit."
His nostrils flare. "Well, I don't like you."
I draw a sharp breath. "Rett … "
"‘Like' is too weak a word. Look, just … " He's looking down at me, emotions shifting behind those pretty eyes of his, and he seems to want to say more, but in the end, he just reaches over me and switches off the lamp. "Let's get some sleep."
He nods off quickly, his face pressed to my hair, his breathing evening out. He's so warm and solid, pressed to me, his skin smelling faintly of soap and spice under my cheek.
Solid and big, all hard muscle and sinew. Even though I'm not little, I feel like a doll in his arms, held carefully, cradled against his side, my legs curled up against his thick thigh.
It's so thrilling, to be here, with him. And it touches in ways I never thought it would. I feel like my heart is cracking open, and I'm afraid to move in case he vanishes into thin air.
His words won't let me sleep. His words, my thoughts, the events of today. How can I sleep after all that happened?
But it seems I can, because I find myself swimming through stars and glowing fish, flying over houses and trees, flying in my dreams for the first time in years-only to come awake some time later with a start.
Rough fingertips brush over my hip, under my nightie, trailing over the lace of my panties, then down my thigh.
I look up, and in the dimness of the room, the faint light coming through the window slats, I see his eyes fixed on me. He leans in and kisses me, claims my mouth in a rough clash of lips and teeth and tongue that makes me moan out loud.
"Fuck, I want you," he rasps against my lips, gripping my leg and pulling it over his, spreading me just enough for me to feel how hard he is through his sweats. Then he kisses me again, covering my mouth with his, moving it in delicious ways, our tongues tangling as his breathing turns ragged.
Suddenly he rolls me under him and presses himself between my legs, bracing his elbows on the bed and doing a half push-up that has his hard-on right where I need him.
"Rett," I moan, and lift my hand, stroke his face. Arching up, I kiss him, a quick brush of our lips, but his eyes flutter closed.
"We shouldn't do this," he whispers.
"Why not?"
"Cuz I'm getting so damn addicted to you." He shifts, and we both moan. Sparks explode in my belly, and my pussy clenches on nothing. "Shit, Gigi."
"Please." My hips lift restlessly. I loop my arms around his neck, dragging him down to me. I don't know when I'll have him with me here again, and I try not to think of that. I need him now, need to feel him. "Please … "
"What about your mom, and Merc? Won't they hear us?"
"Mom's room is far. And he falls asleep listening to music. He wouldn't hear a bomb going off."
He leans on one side so he can push up my nightie, and cool air washes over my bare boobs, my nipples tightening. "Damn, you're so fucking pretty. Perfect. You're perfect."