Bad Wolf(83)

"Why?" Kayla frowns at me.

"I'm not good around people."

"Nonsense," Ev says. "You're great. It will be lots of fun. You'll see."

Yeah, right. I love Ev, but sometimes I don't think she really knows me. She can't understand how I freak out like that in crowds. Thinks I can get over it.

As if I haven't tried.

I think again of Jesse offering to take me, make sure I have fun. Will he do it now? I doubt it. I tried calling him-got his number from Micah, who promised not to tell him anything-but he doesn't answer. I'm more worried about him than I am about the wedding, which is stupid.

He probably doesn't want to talk to me or see me again, after my interrogation of him.

I bite on my lower lip. This is what's troubling me, but how can I tell the girls that? They'll laugh. They'll tell me to stop thinking about him.

And I frigging can't. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

While I'm lost inside my mind, Kayla makes a grab for my box, and she spreads pendants, earrings and bracelets on the red carpet. Ev bends over them eagerly, like a kid at Christmas, and their exclamations of awe and their giggles wash over me.

A thought has hit me, and it's sending chills down my spine.

I told Jesse I'm antisocial, too, and he didn't believe me. Then I got comfortable, let myself free to do and say whatever came to my mind. I thought we were just talking, but instead I pushed him until he snapped and ran, like I knew would happen.

Like everyone else, he expected me to know the boundaries, to behave normal. He said I could be myself, that I'm fine as I am-but apparently that was a lie.



Tuesday morning and I'm standing in front of Jesse's door.

This is a bad idea. I know it, and I wish I had a better one, but if I ask Ev or Kayla or any of the boys to take the bags with Jesse's new clothes over to his place, they're bound to ask me questions and assume lots of things that aren't true.                       
       
           



       

I don't need more teasing and harassment. Seriously, I'm fine most of the time, but avoiding drama is half the work.

Besides …  I need to see Jesse.

I reflect on that, my finger hovering over the doorbell. Although I'm pissed at him for vanishing, I don't blame him. In fact, I'm worried about him. After dropping that bomb-and I'm still not sure what he was telling me exactly-I want to look into his eyes and make sure he's okay.

It's been years since that evening he was attacked, I remind myself, hefting the bags in my hand. The plastic is cutting into my palm. He's here, alive, perfectly healthy, working and flirting with girls. Going shopping with you. He doesn't need your concern. He survived all by himself, but still …

"Sometimes I'm not sure I did." That's what he said.

I ring the bell and wait, his words haunting me. It doesn't matter. I'm just going to drop off his bags and go.

Nothing happens for a while, and I send the staircase a longing glance. Crap. I ring again, shifting the bags to my other hand.

In my memory, I see the way he'd looked in the metallic blue shirt that made his eyes glow, his smile, his teasing.

Before I can analyze why the thought of his teasing makes my face warm and my heart beat faster, the door unlocks and swings open.

A tall guy dressed in shorts and holding a towel in one hand is standing at the opening, giving me a once-over-but it's not Jesse. Definitely not. This one's blond with soft brown eyes and his powerful chest appears devoid of tattoos. His fair hair is wet, as if he just emerged from the shower.

You know your mind is stuck in a rut when you find the lack of tattoos on a man's bare chest strange …

Pulling myself together, trying not to stare at the guy's powerful physique or the red lines on his pecs-are those scratches? Like from a woman's nails?-I lift the bags in front of me.

His eyes narrow a fraction, focusing on the bags. "Yeah? Can I help you?"

"These are Jesse's. Could you please give them to him?"

"What's in there?" He leans over them. "Are those clothes?"

"Yeah. He knows what they are." I lift the bags again, but he doesn't take them. "New clothes. He bought them."

"And who are you?" His gaze is back on me, and I squirm under the scrutiny.

"Just …  please give these to him?" I drop the bags and turn to go.

"Hey, wait a sec." A heavy hand drops on my shoulder, and I yelp, stumbling and twisting around to shove at him.

"Let go."

"Girl, what's your problem?" He lifts his hands, his eyes comically wide, but he's still crowding me, so that I press my back to the wall of the landing. "I only wanted to tell you he's here, and you can give them to him yourself."

Cold sweat is running down my back. My breath is frozen in my lungs. He's towering over me, and he smells all wrong-not at all like Jesse. He reaches for me and I gasp, my legs folding under me. I slide down the wall.

He curses, grabs my arm-and then stumbles sideways, releasing me. "The hell?"

"Damn you, Travis, move away from her," a familiar male voice snaps, and Jesse is there, pushing the guy away. He bends over and puts a hand on my cheek. "You okay, Embers?"

His touch should freak me out even more-Jesse's just as tall as this other guy, Travis, and even more muscled-but I find myself leaning into his hand.

"Let's get you inside," he says, and I let him pull me to my feet, let him slip his arm around me. It feels so good, being with him.

"Go to hell, asshole," Travis mutters behind us. "That's what I was trying to do anyway, get her inside, bring her over to you. What crawled up your ass and died, huh?"

"I don't know, Jesse says as he tugs me through the hallway, "but I hope it's not the same thing that died in yours. It stinks."

I stifle laughter as he leads me through an open door, and then turns and closes it behind us. "You didn't just say that to him."

"Wanna bet?" That infectious grin is back, and I hadn't realized until now how much I'd missed it. How afraid I was I wouldn't see it again.

"You often fight like that?"

At the muffled sound of soft plastic hitting the door, he grins without turning and yells, "Fuck off!"

"JJ … "

He sets me down on a bed-his bed, my mind belatedly realizes-and crouches in front of me. "Ignore the idiot. Sorry about that."

"Not his fault. I'm jumpy."                       
       
           



       

"Don't you dare worry about him. He keeps me up every night. I swear, I've never known a guy to be so damn noisy during sex."

My mouth opens and closes. "You and him … ?"

It's his turn to gape at me.

Then he laughs. I love the sound, deep and resonant, and the way he throws back his head. "God, no, he brings chicks here and bangs them in his room next door. Plus, I'm into women." He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and quietens, gazing at me. "I'm definitely into women."

Caught in the blue-green of his eyes, so intense now, I couldn't move if the world ended. "Good to know," I hear myself whisper, as if from a distance.

My reply seems to amuse him. A corner of his mouth curls up.

Then he takes my face in his hands. "Embers, I have a question of my own to ask you. I need you to tell me why Travis frightened you so much."

"I was bullied at school by this guy and his friends." Still caught in his eyes, in his spell. "He was tall and strong, and he liked overpowering me."

His mouth twists. "What was his name?"

"Nick."

"Nick." His hold on my face is so hard it's bruising. "Nick what?"

"Nick Harris."

"Is he still around? Is he bothering you?"

"No, I … " I pull back and his hands fall away. "Haven't seen him in years."

I think. If the guy I saw across the street the other day wasn't him, and thinking it might be him sends icy shivers down my spine.

"Good. He's lucky. I'd feed him his fucking balls." Jesse rises on his knees until his face is right in front of mine. "He's gone, but he's left scars. Invisible, unlike mine, but real. Are you scared of me?"

"No," I whisper and lift a hand to stroke his face. "No, I'm not." I trail it over his soft lips, and he draws it into his mouth. I gasp, fire spilling down my arm to my chest and straight to my belly.

What is he doing? I feel like I'm on fire, even after I withdraw my finger from the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the velvet of his lips.

"You're so pretty," he says quietly, his eyes smoldering. "You should be afraid of me."

Then he cups my face again and kisses me.





Chapter Twelve





Jesse





Sweet, soft, hot with a taste of strawberries, her lips part under mine. Like candy dipped in hot fudge, sprinkled with almonds …  I moan as I deepen the kiss and lick her mouth, desperate for more. It's as if I've been waiting for this kiss all my life. In fact, I can't remember kissing any other girl. Never wanted to. And now …

Now I can't get enough of her. I climb over her, pushing her on her back on the bed and crawl over her, lie between her legs. I'm diamond hard, my dick throbbing painfully against the zipper of my jeans, trying to burst out, enter her.