Jack’s hands instantly go to my hips, and my hips instantly want to yank his hands down my pants. My hips can’t be trusted.
“Watch it,” I say to the drunk guy, giving him a little shove forward so I have room to pull away from Jack.
Jack’s fingers slowly slide off my hips, trailing down just before ending contact with my body, and my eyelids lower in want.
Clearly, I need to have sex. Not with Jack—that would be a disaster. But with someone. Soon. So I can sex Jack out of my system. Again.
I’ve been trying to sex away Jack a lot lately.
I blink up and find Jack’s eyes watching mine. He saw my moment of weakness; that split second of desire. Dammit.
“Be careful, Jenn,” he says in a low voice, and his words trickle down my skin.
Jack’s the only person I’ve ever let call me “Jenn.” Why? I have no idea. I blame his voice, all sexy and deep and brushing along the sensitive places of my ears.
Damn him, damn him, damn him.
“Right.” I step back and act casual. “So I’m going to go. I’ll see you when I get back. Later.”
I spin around and weave through the crowd with a huff, feeling Jack’s eyes on me the whole time.
2
Jack
There are only two things I don’t ever speak of. My crazy family and my history with Jenna. And both just fell in my lap.
I watch Jenna work her way to the front door and can’t help the unease slipping through my veins. I don’t like the idea of her going on such a long road trip by herself. She’s independent and smart and I know she can take care of herself, but that doesn’t lessen my concern any.
Her long dark hair is pulled back into a high ponytail revealing her golden eyes and high cheekbones. Her half-Creole heritage has kissed her skin with a permanent bronze, which only adds to her unique beauty as her shoulders, bare in the strapless shirt she’s wearing, show off the numerous tattoos running the length of her arms. The intricate designs disappear beneath her clothes, where I know they continue to travel across other parts of her curvy body. She’s beautiful and wild, and drives me absolutely crazy.
Her hips swing as she moves out the door and my gut tightens. If anything were to ever happen to her, if someone ever tried to hurt her, I… well I can’t even think about it. Which is why I can’t think about Jenna all alone in a car on a series of desolate freeways for three days.
I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.
My friend Ethan plops down in the barstool next to me, reeking of cologne. “Hey, man.”
“Hey,” I say.
I’ve gone through a series of roommates this past year, but Ethan has been my favorite, so far, or at least the easiest to tolerate. He and I have been friends since I first moved to Arizona and, as very opposite as the two of us are, we get along pretty well.
“Was that Jenna I just saw leaving?” He nods at the door.
“Yep.”
Ethan smirks. “What did you do to piss her off this time?”
I grin. I do have a way of getting under Jenna’s skin. I can’t help it. If she would just be a grown-up and address what happened between us last year then maybe I’d back down. But instead she acts like nothing ever went down and dammit, that’s just insulting. Because she’s not just some girl I hooked up with a while back. She’s Jenna, for God’s sake.
But she wants to pretend like we’re nothing more than friends, so I go along with it. And occasionally I piss her off—because it’s something. It’s some sign that I matter more than she lets on.
“Surprisingly enough,” I say, “I didn’t do anything. This time.”
Ethan shakes his head. “I don’t know why you poke at her the way you do.”
“Because it’s funny.” I shrug. “And it’s not like she doesn’t piss me off just as much, like when she goes off and sleeps with dickhead guys.” I shift my beer mug around in a slow circle, one inch at a time. “When she knows she can do better.”
“Yeeeah.” Ethan purses his lips. “You care way too much about who Jenna sleeps with. That’s not healthy, man.”
I stifle a groan. “I know.”
Ethan orders a drink from Cody while I stare into my beer. I really shouldn’t care who Jenna sleeps with, especially since I’m no angel myself. But damn. I can’t help it. I don’t like her sharing her body with anyone else.
My phone rings again. I look at the caller ID and groan.
I’ve been fielding phone calls from my family members for a week now and it’s grating on my nerves. Earlier, I was on the phone with my frantic mother, who was babbling about how concerned she is for my youngest brother, Drew. He’s twenty and should be able to take care of himself by now, but apparently he’s been acting shady lately and his behavior has my family on edge. Now Mom’s flipping out and I’m running out of reassuring words.