“No?” He stared up at her, stubble-covered jaw and wild dark hair. Shirtless. Gorgeous.
He truly took her breath away. “No.” She repeated. His gaze locked with hers and an instant surge of heat caught deep in her belly, burning outward.
He grinned, one brow shooting high. “You’re here for sex?”
“What?” Laughter erupted, startled and breathless. “No.” She shook her head. “No.”
“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that.” He pushed the blankets back and stood, his boxers hanging low on his hips. “At the risk of losing my man card, I’m not in the mood.” His gaze swept over her face.
He shouldn’t look at her like that then. Shouldn’t look at her like she was something to eat. Shouldn’t make her shake with longing. There was no bite in her words as she attempted to argue with him. “I’m not—wasn’t here for se—”
He kissed her then, hands sliding through her hair and pulling her close. His warmth wrapped around her, melting whatever trace of resistance she had and setting her on fire. His teeth nipped her lower lip until her moan gave him access to her mouth. His tongue slid deep.
She wanted this, wanted him. Her hands wandered over the carved expanse of his chest. A delicious and hard chest she shouldn’t be stroking. “Jace.” She pushed away. “That’s not… I didn’t come here for this.”
“You said that.” He was breathing hard. “And you’re not here because you were worried I couldn’t do all the promotional stuff tomorrow?”
When he said it that way, she sounded like a horrible person. It wasn’t about him being up for their promo spots tomorrow. Not at all. “Travis said you weren’t feeling well.” She was flustered now.
“And?” he waited, half-naked, flushed, and staring at her mouth. If he expected a coherent answer, he needed to stop acting like he was ready and willing to finish what he—she—they’d started.
Why had she come? “You want me to say I was worried? Fine.” She shook her head, snapping. “I was worried about you. Not the stupid interviews.” She glared at him. “I wanted to check on you. To make sure you were okay.”
He was smiling. “Really?”
“Yes, really, dammit.” She was beyond flustered now. What did it matter anyway? She pointed at the bag. “Food and coffee.” She frowned, tearing her gaze away. “Don’t choke on it.” She spun, stomping down the hall toward the door.
Travis was halfway up the steps when she came down, brushing past him. “Problem?”
“Shut up,” she snapped, heading for her bus, ignoring her brother’s laugh.
What the hell was that? She had been worried about him. That was a human response, wasn’t it? Then she’d been caught up in the beauty of his words. Next, she’d been tangled in the beauty of his arms, and then he…he… What did he want? Some sort of revelation? Did he think he was being cute by dragging some half-hearted admission that, yes, she cared about him, not just their working relationship? Why did he have to look so damn pleased about it?
“What’s wrong?” Emmy Lou looked up from her computer. “You saw the news?”
“News?” Krystal repeated, still trying to make sense of that smile. Of course she cared about him. They were…friends. It’s not like she was pouring her heart out to him, telling him how she really felt about him.
“Tig?” Emmy Lou turned her laptop around. “This just posted.”
That name was more effective than having a bucket of ice water dumped on her head. “What?” Her eyes adjusted to the screen and read “Tig Whitman Plans to Sue King Family in Civil Court.”
She sat in the dining booth before her legs could buckle. With a thunk, her forehead rested against the table and she stretched her arms out so her hands could dangle off the other side. What had she been thinking? Oh right, that she was doing the right thing. She shook out her hands.
Beyond the press, there had been an incredible outpouring of emails, letters, and cards from hundreds of survivors. They believed her. They thanked her. They wanted advice on how to keep going, how to live, how to let go. Answering them helped her feel stronger, reminding her of why she’d stepped forward. She never pretended to have the answers, she didn’t. Every day was a struggle. Some days were harder than others. But surviving until it got easier was what they had to do—or their attacker still had control. She said that to them. And yet, here she was, letting Tig and his stupid threats get to her.
It didn’t take long for Travis and Jace to climb on board their bus.
“I’m guessing you heard?” Travis asked.
She didn’t move. Tig couldn’t win. No one believed her; no one had come forward with stories of similar abuse. But, dammit, he couldn’t win.
“Taking it well, then?” Travis asked.
She flipped him off. “Why did I… I’m stupid. I knew…I knew it was a risk—”
“A risk worth taking.” Jace knelt by her, his hand resting on her thigh. “Don’t second-guess yourself. Don’t doubt what you did. It’s never a bad idea to do the right thing, Krystal.”
She’d known the media would pick apart her family’s every action—but that hadn’t made it any easier to see.