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We put the cups into the preheated oven, and as soon as I turn around, he backs me up against the counter, his warm breath ghosting over my mouth.
“I have to go to Damage Control,” he says, and it takes me a moment to understand the words, fixated as I am on the green-blue of his eyes and the shape of his body pressed to mine. “Training. Zane wants to talk to me, too.”
That’s it, I think dazedly. This is when he says I’ll be seeing you around, that we can be friends and it was nice, thanks. Maybe that’s why he’s been showing me this disarmingly boyish side of him. He wants to be friends with me.
Not that this makes a lick of sense—I mean, why the heck would a guy as sexy and popular as Jesse want to be friends with me?—but my brain is off to la-la land with him so close and personal and in my space.
Probably also why I miss most of what he’s saying, until the word “wedding” catches my attention.
“Holy crap, I forgot about the wedding.” For about twelve blissful hours—the length of time Jesse has been here. “Shit.”
“Christ, the idea really scares you, doesn’t it?”
So close, I can’t hide from him.
“I have a bad feeling about it.” Then again I always do, when it comes to social gatherings. “I don’t have good memories from parties.”
“Time to make new ones then.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” The words spill out of me, my mouth going too fast for my brain to catch up. “Meeting up with girls at parties, have them suck you off is your way of making new memories?”
His grin fades. “And if it is?”
“Are you serious now?”
“What do you want me to say?” He pulls away, his jaw clenching. “It fucking worked until I met you. I thought it worked, anyway. I thought that what it was all about, and it was a damn deal better than having sex with older women for a few bucks.”
“And that’s supposed to make this any better?”
Holy crap. Don’t know why I can’t stop the words from falling from my mouth. Is it hormones—is it that time of the month already? I can’t whip up any conscious thinking to put a brake on my insecurities pouring out, disguised as accusations.
He rubs the back of his head and resettles his cap. The light in his eyes has dimmed. “Embers…”
Why am I trying to hurt him? I think I want him to get it over with—tell me it’s over, tell me the truth.
So I do it instead. “Are you going back to that? To making new memories with girls at parties? Are we just friends now?”
“Dammit, we aren’t friends.” His hands fist at his sides. “I can’t be friends with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want you too fucking much.”
I nod, my throat tight, both relieved and disappointed. It’s just about sex, and I knew it, so why am I feeling so shitty right now? “Right.”
He sighs. “Hell, Embers, what do you want me to say?”
“The truth. That’s all. ”
I hear the door of Kayla’s bedroom creak open, and he hears it, too. He freezes for a second, then takes a step toward me.
“I want you. And I like you. I’ve never felt this way before, okay? I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I’ve never had a girlfriend, for God’s sakes.”
A shiver wracks me. “What are you saying, JJ?”
“I’m saying…” He lifts a hand to my face, strokes his knuckles over my cheek, and his lashes lower, shadowing his gaze. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. Can’t we take it one step at a time? Let me take you to the wedding.”
“Okay,” I whisper and wonder if I’ve lost my mind completely for agreeing to this. “The wedding.”
