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And then someone stops in front of me, just as I’m taking out my key, someone familiar.
My breath stops. “Gigi?”
Her long hair is windblown, her red coat makes her face glow.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” She gestures at the building. “I wasn’t even sure this was the right place.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Is this real? She’s been on my thoughts every night and every day, replaying every moment with her, from the filthiest, hottest ones as she went down on me to the sweetness of her smile—and the cold of her absence when she stepped out the door.
I thought she never wanted to see me again, which would have made perfect fucking sense after the way I treated her, and… God, she’s so pretty, I can’t think. Blood is quickly heading south, my jeans getting too damn tight. She’s all bright blue eyes and soft lips, a heart-shaped face and a cleavage deep and mesmerizing.
My hands ache to map her every sexy curve. I ache for her, dying to bury myself inside her. I lick my lips, remembering her taste on my tongue, and my dick is about to bust through my zipper.
I reach for her, my only thought to kiss her.
/> But then I remember Declan and Elena across the street. I can’t see them, but I’m not taking any chances.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her after me. “Not safe for you here.”
“Why not?” she asks, her small hand folded up in mine, her voice breathless.
I don’t reply as I unlock the building door.
I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on Sebastian. He’s my family. Gigi isn’t. She isn’t, dammit. And I never made a promise to anyone to look after her, too. I’m not about to do more than I bargained for. It’s every man for himself in this world.
That’s not what Connor taught me, but it’s what he showed me.
And still I drag her inside the building and up to my apartment, breaking my rules, making a choice I wasn’t supposed to make, hoping to keep her safe.
Chapter Seventeen
Gigi
“Ow. Let go.” I try to pull my wrist free of the steel vise of his fingers as he drags me into his apartment, but no use. “Jarett. You’re hurting me.”
“Fuck, sorry.” His grip relaxes, and I pull my hand away, rubbing at my wrist. He glances at it, his brows knitting, and starts to pace. He’s vibrating with tension.
“What’s the matter?” I stand in his living room, in my heavy jacket, wondering what got him so worked up. “I just wanted to talk—”
“You shouldn’t come here.”
“Rest assured it won’t happen again,” I say, stung.
“It’s dangerous,” he says. “There were gang members across the street, and they could have seen you. They get all jittery after robbing a store.”
I take a step back, his words a physical blow. “Your gang?”
“Yeah, my gang.” He runs a hand through his dark hair and stops across from me, though he’s not looking at me. As if he’s forgotten I’m here.
That stings, too. Hurt twists up my stomach, makes my eyes feel too hot, and that is so not fair. Because all this just sucks, and it’s getting worse by the second.
“Are you serious right now?” I swallow hard. “You went and robbed a store?”
He glances sideways at me. “It’s a fucking gang, Gigi. What did you think we do, sit around knitting socks and watching Desperate Housewives?”
“It’s not funny!”
“Of course it’s not goddamn funny.” He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe I’m not getting it yet. “You can’t be seen with me, Gigi.”
