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That’s no longer an option once he’s in my cottage. I didn’t expect Jester to be so willing to enter my cramped one-bedroom space. I remember how Penthouse wouldn’t enter Eliza’s cottage, even though he was horny for her. Big men like him and Jester aren’t usually cool with small, girly spaces.
Of course, Jester’s been locked in a cage for seven years. My cottage isn’t tiny compared to his cell. That’s why he so effortlessly moves his tall, muscled body inside. I look around and wish I cleaned up a little.
“I’m not your fucking dad,” Jester grumbles when I stare at him from the middle of the cozy living room. “I don’t care if you vacuumed.”
“I never have people in here.”
“Not even Aqua?”
“No. I visit her on Tobosa Road.”
“Because you don’t like this house?” Jester asks and settles on the couch before standing up and moving toward the bedroom. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
I hurry over to see what he’s checking out, only to find him flopping his impressive body across my mattress.
“Your room is pretty damn girly.”
“No, it’s not,” I grumble, forgetting to be scared about the large man in my space.
Jester rests his arms behind his head and gets comfortable, even kicking off his tennis shoes.
“No guy would ever put a pastel blanket on their bed. I think you bought this while on your period, when your lady side is at its strongest.”
I open my mouth to bitch at him but stop myself when I realize he’s poking at me. Jester isn’t a funny man. He doesn’t often joke. He rarely laughs. His road name is an inside joke. Jester finds me amusing, though, and he tries to poke at me like I do him.
That’s all he’s doing right now. I study him on my bed and see someone I’ve known all my life. First, he was just one of the founders. Then, he was a sexy beast I crushed on. Now, I feel like he’s mine.I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment.
I tug off my tennis shoes and climb over him. Remaining very still, he just watches me with his gray-blue eyes.
“I admit blue is a pastel, chick color. But I just like it.”
Jester doesn’t react to my comment or the way my body rests inches from his. When he’s silent for too long, I feel the need to fill the void.
“What’s prison like?”
“I don’t mind the routine. I spent a lot of time in juvie growing up. I like knowing what’s happening next. Prison is good for that. It makes some people crazy. They get angry and lash out. That gets them thrown in solitary, which is even more closed up and monotonous. I’m not a smart man, but even I know how things can go from bad to worse.”
“You’re plenty smart.”
“Not really. I don’t know a damn thing about the world outside of Metamora. I don’t care about history. I can’t do more than basic math. And I’ve gone silly over a chick I saw in diapers.”
Ignoring the diaper thing, I explain, “I don’t think you can pick and choose who you go silly over. It’s a chemical reaction or fate.”
Jester narrows his gaze and asks, “So, you don’t want to be silly over me?”
“It would be easier if I was silly over someone like Puppet. He’d be my slave, and I’d never have to hear about being in diapers.”
“Which one is Puppet again?”
“Are you really curious or just busting my ovaries?”
Jester smirks. “You’re acting more like yourself now. You’ve ditched that scared-kid shit.”
“You intimidate me,” I admit as my gaze washes over his thickly muscled chest, tanned flesh, and inked skin. His blue eyes are so stormy. When they’re angry, he seems otherworldly. Right now, Jester’s relaxed. A smile tugs at the edges of his mouth. “But I still want you.”
“Well, whether you’re scared or not, I’m staying put tonight.”
“I like your townhome. Bunking there might be more relaxing.”
