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It was dangerous. He was dangerous. He was everything he knew she couldn’t fight and she was so tired. So tired of fighting. Just- so completely exhausted, so when his arms wrapped her up and he carted her up easily against his chest, cradling her legs and letting her throw her arms around his neck, when he carried her easily through the kitchen, down an impossibly long hall, and into a bedroom that was even more extravagant than the shower had been, with a huge king bed, ornate furniture, tiled floors, and fancy ass lighting, she didn’t fight.
She didn’t even fight back when he set her down on the bed and told some robotic assistant to dim the lights.
She didn’t tell him that mood lighting was for pussies and that this wasn’t romantic, and it wasn’t going to happen, because them and romance didn’t mingle. She didn’t tell him that she had no plans on giving in to his stupid seduction and that it was all bribery what he was doing and that she was going to walk out that door, flip him the bird, and be done with him.
She didn’t say any of those things and she didn’t move.
She fought for an ounce of better judgment, for even a small shred of resistance, and came up empty. She tried to reassemble her walls, to count all the reasons that being in Jesse’s bedroom with him, alone, was a bad idea, but all she could find inside of her heart was the yawning, gaping hole that leaving him behind created. Seeing him again, being so close to him, all of it- it ripped open that hole until it was aching and bleeding, a hole that only he could stitch back up, even if he shredded her in the process.
So no, she couldn’t find a single insult to throw at him. She couldn’t force herself not to want him. To want everything she’d denied herself for the better part of her life. She couldn’t make her tongue respond to the words she wanted it to form.
Because there was no way she actually wanted to tell him to stop.
Not even when he stood in front of her and started to unbutton his shirt.
CHAPTER 13
Jesse
It shouldn’t be this easy.
He kept thinking it the entire time he carried Syd down the hall to his room. When he set her on the bed. When he dimmed the lights and started to work the buttons on his shirt loose.
He took his time, when what he really wanted to do was tear the stupid shirt off in a superhuman like move, rain down buttons all over the floor, and shed the tattered fabric. He purposely slowed his fingers as he locked eyes with Syd, giving her time to change her mind.
Just because she stared back at him with big, doe-like eyes, heavy lidded eyes with the pupils completely blown, didn’t mean that she was going to let him win. Just because she wasn’t fighting back didn’t mean that all the fight was gone out of her. She could just as easily kick him in the face when he bent down to strip off her sweats as she smiled up at him invitingly.
Because this was Syd. She was full of surprises. Full of spirit. Full of piss and vinegar. This was the girl who could outwrestle any guy in high school, who wasn’t afraid of getting dirty, who went with a group of guys to the gravel pits out of town and jumped Jason Patrick’s stupid quad while all the guys, including him, watched on, astounded. This was the girl who used to do funny impressions with her voice of all the teachers she didn’t like, sometimes right behind their backs in class, in lowered tones. This was the girl who almost set the science lab on fire because she was too busy farting around with chemicals to actually worry about being safe. This was Syd. Syd who always jumped off the tall diving board. Syd, who laughed at the scary scenes in horror movies. Syd who wasn’t afraid of the dark. Syd who’d stand outside in the rain like she didn’t give a shit she was getting wet. Syd who raised her head and stared life down, who flipped it the double bird when she didn’t agree with it.
Syd didn’t just admit defeat.
So, either she wanted this, or she was luring him in for a swift kick in the balls.
He slowly stripped off his shirt, waiting for her to jump off the bed, stick out her tongue, and tell him to go fuck himself. He slowly worked his pants off, leaving his boxers on, because he liked his baby makers too much to chance flashing them and shocking her out of the stupor she appeared to be in. He didn’t want her to rear up and plant her heel right between his legs. That would seriously hinder his mother’s hopes for a grandchild and while he didn’t want to indulge her any time soon, he also liked leaving that possibility open.
