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Harper accepted the drink. “Thanks for thinking of me, but I’m fine. Good, actually.” She smiled at him.
She looked cute and tiny, with her wet hair hanging down past her chin. Gone was the woman who’d been visibly upset twenty minutes ago. If it weren’t for that bruise, Jinx would never know she’d been through a fucking ordeal tonight. Well, the bruise and the fact that her smile was as plastic as a damn Barbie Doll’s smile.
He cocked his head, studying her. “Good, huh? You got it?”
Her huff of laughter at least had a semirealistic quality to it. “Exactly. I got it. I’m fine. But thanks for the drink.” She sipped and winced as the liquid went down. “Yikes. That is strong.”
“Bullshit.”
“What?” Her eyes bugged. “No, it really is stro—” Her gaze met his, cutting off her words, and she paled.
Yeah, I’m on to you.
She wasn’t fine. She sure as hell wasn’t good. And she didn’t got anything. She was rattled as shit, and tonight he wasn’t in the mood to indulge her I-don’t-need-anyone attitude.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IF SHE GROUND her teeth any harder, she’d be chewing her food with nubs for the rest of her life.
Jinx bent down until he was at her eye level, and her breath caught at the heat swirling in his gaze. “Bull. Shit,” he whispered so close to her lips that she caught the scent of whiskey on his breath.
God, he smelled good. Fresh and woodsy as though he’d showered recently with the faintest undertone of rubber and motor oil—two smells that probably never fully left his body, considering his job. Also, two things she’d never have thought would smell so sexy, but then, she’d been surrounded by women for the past seven years. What the hell did she know about what she found sexy on a man?
“Wh-ah, what?” His close proximity jumbled her brain, made her stomach flutter, and gave her the insane urge to squeeze her thighs together to relieve the mysterious ache.
She resisted.
Barely.
“I’m calling bullshit. You are not fine. You are not good. You’re a fucking mess.”
Her breath caught. How could he tell? She’d been practicing her I’m-fine face for so long she didn’t have to think about it anymore. No one had ever called her on it. Not her cellmates. Not the corrections officers. Not even her attorney. And since her release and move to Florida, no one knew her well enough to pick up on when she was pretending.
But this frustrating and gorgeous man saw through her after only a few short encounters.
Did he know? Was he aware of her past? Brooke and Liv swore up, down, and backward that they wouldn’t share the information on her background check with anyone, but Jinx wasn’t just anyone. He was part of their family.
She cleared her throat. Might as well give it one last go. Denial worked some of the time. “Not sure what you mean. My face is a little sore, but aside from that, I’m doing well.”
He grunted and shook his head. She’d have to be blind to miss the disappointment in his expression. “All right, tough guy. Stick to your story.” He straightened to his full towering height and threw back his drink in one hearty swallow before dropping next to her on the mattress.
Harper peered down at the brown liquid in her glass. She couldn’t shoot the thing as well as he had, but maybe getting it down the hatch as fast as possible would minimize the torture and speed up the relaxing effects of the alcohol.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, tilting her head and taking a huge gulp of the liquid. Fire burned its way down her esophagus, but she ignored it in favor of a second swallow, which polished off the rest of the disgusting whiskey. “Jesus.” She coughed, and her eyes watered.
“Damn, woman.” Jinx took the empty glass from her hand and set it down next to his on the floor. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Told you,” she said with an actual grin this time. “I got it.”
He threw back his head and let out a booming laugh. “Yeah. You did tell me that.”
Silence descended thick and heavy but not bad. Something about his bulky body next to hers made her feel safer than she had since long before prison. While she felt safe with him, she also felt an unfamiliar agitation. As though she wasn’t fully comfortable but also wasn’t uncomfortable. Her skin felt alive. Slightly tingly. Her breasts felt heavy and her sex empty.
The best way to describe the sensations his presence brought out was needy, but she had no idea what it was she needed from him.
“You feel up to talking to my club about what happened tonight?”
Ugh, no.
She nodded. “Yeah. I asked for a few minutes to collect my thoughts, but I guess I’ve been in here a while, huh?”
