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I can see the blue temple door where everyone is streaming inside. I think I see my parents and my little sister, Rebecca, going through the doors. Yes, that’s her—she’s wearing the flop-sided black and orange beanie she’d crocheted herself and insisted on wearing despite my mother’s protests.
But then it’s not the temple door they’re walking through, but the door to the credit union we’d robbed today. And that’s not the only thing different; right next to my parents and sister is Jeb. He’s wearing the old, beat-up cowboy hat he wears when he’s feeling extra cocky. He holds the door open for my family and then follows them in.
“No,” I scream, running for the door, hoping that this time I can reach them. That this time, I can stop them.
But it’s already too late. The building explodes in a fiery blast.
I start screaming.
“Eli, wake up.” I hear my name being called as my body is being shaken. It’s the EMTs trying to save me from the injuries I received from the blast. I don’t want them to save me this time. I want to be with my family. I want to be with Jeb.
“Eli, wake up.” The order is firm and commanding—familiar.
I open my eyes to see Jeb’s beautiful face looking down at me, his eyes full of worry.
A rush of relief goes through me.He’s alive. He wasn’t killed in the explosion.“Don’t go in,” I plead with him. “Don’t go in.”
“I promise I won’t,” Jeb vows, his free arm moving to wrap around me in comfort, but then, as if thinking of all the times I’ve made it clear I don’t want him to touch me, he pulls away.
And I break.
I chase after his retreating form and throw myself around him, clinging to his chest and burying my face in the crook of his arm.
For a brief second, he tenses, and I prepare to be pushed away from him, but then his arms tighten like a vice around me, and he runs his free hand through my hair.
His touch seeps through my body like honey. I sob at the comfort of it. The sound of a loud, pain-filled keening echoes throughout the room.
I’m so goddamned grateful for the handcuffs chaining me to Jeb right now. If it weren’t for them, I’d tear myself out of Jeb’s embrace in mortification, but they keep me where I want to be—wrapped tightly in his arms.
Jeb murmurs something I can’t make out as I feel the whisper light touch of his lips brush my forehead. I breathe in his smell, which has always reminded me of the scent of a bonfire caught on the wind. A faint smokey promise of summer nights spent under the stars.
Just this once. Just for tonight, I’ll let myself have this. Tomorrow, I’ll be strong again. Tomorrow, I’ll make myself leave Jeb behind and try to forget the comfort I found in his arms.
Chapter7
Jeb
Tennessee
I wake up to Eli, still wrapped in my arms, a low buzz of a snore coming from him.
Snoring must be a new kink of mine because I find it damn cute. My cock agrees and greedily pushes into Eli’s thigh, wondering why it hasn’t been called into action. I carefully arrange Eli’s body so he doesn’t wake up thinking I’m expecting a littlethank youin return for offering him comfort last night.
His panicked movements and heartbreaking cries had woken me out of a dead sleep last night. When I’d finally been able to wake Eli up, tears were streaming down his face, and he was begging me not to go into… somewhere. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but I promised him I wouldn’t—anything to calm him down.
Seeing him like that gutted me. I’d seen him self-destruct once before. It wasn’t too long after we’d become partners. He’d discovered that Patriots Now had a countdown clock to a revolution, and he’d blamed himself for not discovering it sooner.
Which is bullshit. No matter how tight he winds himself up and how much he dedicates himself to the cause, it’s one brainiac against an entire world of psychos. Some days, they’re gonna score a win.
I’d thought that day was pretty bad, but last night was way worse. My arms had ached to pull him to me, but every time I’d ever touched Eli, he’d flinched away or told me off. Lesson learned. Only fuckheads touch someone when they don’t want to be touched. So even though my instincts were pinging to hold him, I’d pulled away, but then he’d launched himself at me and buried his trembling body in my arms.
I’d never had someone need me like that. I usually bolted if I sensed someone might want something more from me than a good time, but last night, I wanted to give Eli comfort. Hell, it was more than a want. It was like I needed to give him comfort as desperately as he needed to receive it.
And now here I am, laying in bed cuddling Eli and loving the greedy way his fists are curled around me, like he doesn’t want to let me go. I can’t even use sex as an excuse for my behavior. I like holding him, even though I know it’s not going to lead to an orgasm.
It's no way for an outlaw to behave.
Needing to get some distance between us, I reach one-handed into the pocket of the pants I’d left on the floor last night and extract the paper clip I always keep in my wallet for situations like this. With a few practiced moves, I pick the handcuffs’ lock and gently sneak out from beneath Eli. Before I walk away, I can’t resist running my hands through his soft, dark hair one more time.
