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“Where is he?” I ask, and snicker when Jet jumps a foot off his chair with a gasp. “Morning.”
“Holy shit, girl, you scared the crap out of me.” He falls back, a hand pressed to his chest, and I start to feel bad when I see how pale his face has gone. “Jesus.”
“Sorry.” I approach him, and when he doesn’t flinch, I press my hand to his jaw. “You all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. Shit.” He puts his hand on top of mine, and lets out a breath, his eyes wide and dark with shock. “Joel’s gone running.”
“Oh. He does that every morning?”
Jet shakes his head. “Sometimes. He likes moving. We also wrestle a few times a week, though we haven’t done that lately.”
“Why not?”
“Too caught up with you.” He smirks at me, and I’m relieved to see color has returned to his cheeks.
“I’d love to see you two wrestle.”
“Would you, now.” His smirk widens. “More than last night?”
“Much more.” I squeak when he hauls me to his lap and I pull desperately on the sheet covering my boobs. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” He kisses the side of my neck, wrapping possessive arms around my middle. “You smell good.”
“I haven’t showered yet.”
“Precisely.” He licks my neck, making me shiver. “You smell like Candy.”
I laugh. “I smell like sex.”
“Sex and Candy. My favorite combo.”
I turn my head and his mouth drags over my cheek. God, this boy. “I…” I think I love you, Jet. “I should shower and get ready for work.”
And not panic for having such strong feelings for my boys. Nope. No panic allowed.
“You need some coffee in you first.”
He knows me so well already. He offers me his cup, and aw Gawd this is sweet of him. As I sip at the brew, thick with sugar, I study the tattoos on his arm. It’s an intricate meshing of shapes. A bird. A ship? A clock. A skull.
“What do they mean?” I tap on his biceps and swoon a little when he flexes it to show me a circle on the underside. “And that?”
“A snake biting its tail.”
“That’s rebirth.”
“Yeah.” He grunts, shock splashing over his gaze, then he lowers his arm. “Drink your coffee.”
“It’s yours.”
“Drink my coffee, then. We need to get going. You said so.”
I sip at the coffee. “What about the bird?”
“The bird?”
“On your forearm.” I stroke it, and he shivers. He’s also hardening, his cock pressing into the small of my back. “Is it a raven?”
He hums in affirmation. “A raven for the soul.”
