Twisted(42)

And breathe.

“Give me that,” he snapped, leaning out the window far enough that she could watch his chest and abs ripple in perfect harmony. So many damn muscles. They would’ve struck her dumb again if he hadn’t been about to snatch the joint.

She’d just have to ogle later.

She stumbled backward, retreating until her spine hit the hot tub. He was already hauling up the sill and climbing out, making her heart rate zoom up to dangerous levels. Soon she’d need CPR.

Mouth-to-mouth, yes, please.

“Seriously, you’re not even supposed to be here. What the hell are you—Jesus Christ, what are you wearing?” He took one step toward her and stopped, reaching up to run his hand over his face. He spread his fingers over his eyes and swore. “Yeah, got it right the first time. Not hallucinating. Fucking thigh-high leather boots and blond hair.”

“Nope, no hallucination. This is all real.”

“No kidding. I don’t know what you’re here for, but I think you chose the wrong night.”

“Because of this?” She lifted the joint to her mouth as he cursed again. Why the hell not? She’d never made a believable good girl anyhoo. “Friends should share.”

Before he could make another grab, she took a deep drag. And started to choke.

“Christ, don’t.” He bolted forward and locked an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. She coughed again weakly, not even protesting when he plucked the joint out of her hand. She expected him to toss it aside, not to bring it to his perfect lips and take a deep breath. After inhaling, he blew out the smoke until it curled up lazily in the air between them. “Mine. Not yours.”

“Is that how it is?” She swallowed to ease the burn in her throat and swayed again, though not from her boots this time. The weed had already hit her head, and wow, she had no complaints. Already her nerves were fading.

Now she was just hungry. And not for food.

“Yeah.” He drew in and out, lightly blowing the smoke between them, squinting his eyes as the plumes swirled through the air, pungent and sharp. Intoxicating in their own destructive way. “This is a party for one, babe.”

“You definitely sound high.” She caught her fingers in his belt loops and ducked her head under his chin. His body heat radiated against her, searing and intense. Being this close to him was like stepping up to the edge of a cliff and staring down into an inferno.

She wanted to fall. To fly…and burn.

“Mmm-hmm. I can smell you. You’re like burnt sugar, bubbling over the pan.” His mouth moved against her hair. “What do you have on under that dress?”

Her heart squeezed. He wasn’t in his right mind. She wanted him fully aware. And she wasn’t all that aware herself. One toke had been enough to scattershot her thoughts like balls across a pool table. She should wait.

Wait.

Wait.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Can’t what?”

“This.” She waved a hand between them. “You’ve given off so many mixed signals, and I probably have too. We’ve been dancing around this for too many years. I may be making a huge mistake but I don’t care anymore. We’re both here right now, and I’m not wasting one more chance.”

She drew her dress up over her head and let it fall.

* § *

Curves. So many curves. She was like a living G-clef made out of flesh and flawless diamond-crushed skin. The ruby red tips of her breasts peeked out from beneath the waves of her white-blonde hair. Thanks to the spill of light from the window, he could see that the same flush bloomed between her legs, beyond enticing. It would be so easy to move forward and take. To just drown himself in her until he couldn’t remember anymore why this was wrong.

“Jazz,” he breathed, shutting his eyes to block out the torch-light of her beauty in front of him. He couldn’t breathe through his want. Couldn’t think through the haze of the marijuana and his need. And his love.

He fucking loved her, and he’d fight not to do this with every fiber of his being. She deserved more than a strung-out bastard who’d turned to pot because he couldn’t get ahold of more coke. For fuck’s sake, even his dealer wouldn’t return his calls.

Now she was here, and he couldn’t get high enough not to feel each of the knives carving him up inside.

“Gray,” she said, equally soft. He didn’t open his eyes but her voice crept closer. “Look at me.”

“No.” The word burst from him on an exhale. “No.”

Her hand touched his bare chest and he jolted as if she’d set off a stick of dynamite. Her chuckle rubbed over his nerve endings, sandpaper and silk, and he struggled to hold back a shudder. Only the steel beam he’d shoved in his spine held him upright.