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There’s only one place I can go.
And, if I’m being honest, only one place Iwantto go.
The road is dark and eerily quiet as I make my way across town. I wish I could text first, but I don’t have his number.
I glance at the clock. It’s late. Too late. I really shouldn’t go over there. He’s probably already in bed.
My tummy feels sick, whether from nerves or because I didn’t have dinner, I’m not sure.
All I know is when I pull in the driveway tonight, I still feel a twinge of that sinking feeling like the first time I stood at this door and waited, agonizing about what would greet me on the other side, but I feel something else this time, too.
Eagerness.
This time, I’m hoping heisthe one to answer the door.
And then I realize Jet said he was spending the night at his friend’s house, and I don’t see Jonathan’s car in the driveway.
Is he here alone?
My tummy sinks just in time for a dark shadow to approach on the other side of the frosted glass.
My heart flutters.
The door opens, and there he is.
The house behind him is dark, all the lights already turned off for the night. His pitch black hair is a little mussed, his incredible body mostly visible as he stands in the door wearing nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips.
My eyes desperately want to dart to those gloriously muscled pecs, to his strong arms and chiseled abs. With considerable effort, I manage to keep my gaze trained on his face, but since he looks like he may have been asleep, that stirs bedroom thoughts, too.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” I say softly.
His handsome face is etched with concern instead of smugness this time since it’s the middle of the night and I’m standing on his front porch in my pajamas.
“Jet isn’t home,” he says slowly, unsure why I’m here.
“I know,” I blurt. “I’m not here to see Jet.”
His eyebrows rise with curious interest and he crosses his arms over his chest, probably chilly from the cool night breeze.
“I—I’m not here for sex or anything, either. I just… I couldn’t sleep. I had to get out of that apartment, and… I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
My heart speeds up saying all that. I shift my weight nervously, thinking he might turn me away.
It’s late, and this isn’t his problem.
He’s home alone, and I really shouldn’t be here.
Instead of turning me away, he takes a step back and gestures for me to follow him.
“Come inside,” he says.
So I do.
Chapter eight
Kennedy
Once I’m inside the house, I’m not sure what to do. I feel awkward, to say the least.
