"Why does everyone assume I have a crush on Jesse? I don't. I'm just curious."
And that's all there is to it, I think as I pull out a worn and battered string of leather from the back of the chair.
Jesse's leather band.
Standing in front of Jesse's door, I shift from foot to foot in my flat sandals and tug on the hem of my blue summer dress with one hand.
The other clutches the worn leather band. I lift it, inspect one last time the faded letters inked on one side. ‘Helen'.
I'd guessed she was the one who gave the bracelet to him, but it was still a small shock to see her name there. So far she'd been a whispered name, a vague reference.
She's real. Or was?
So many questions torturing my mind, lying on the tip of my tongue, waiting to spill out. But when the door finally creaks open and Jesse is standing in front of me, half-naked and drop-dead gorgeous, they evaporate into thin smoke.
"Embers?" He lifts a dark brow, and I try to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
Kind of hard with all that muscled, male, inked flesh in full display in front of me. He's shirtless, and oh God, I'd forgotten his nipples are pierced. The silver hoops threaded through the small brown nubs gleam. His bare chest is sculpted and hard, from his pecs to the cut abs and the fine dark trail of hairs leading into the waistband of his gray jogging pants.
Sweat glistens on his skin, on the colorful ink covering his arm, the swirls and lines dipping from his left shoulder down to a defined pec. A demon is tattooed there, stylized wings and a monstrous head, fading into the purple and blue of other, older-looking tats. And then of course there's the cobra I noticed on his arm the other day.
"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."