Jagged Edge

Besides, he’s probably working, and the thought makes me sick. It makes me wanna break every piece of furniture in my apartment.

He was right. Maybe all we have in common are nightmares. Maybe I should give up.

Fuck that. What if something happened to him again? Last time I thought he was avoiding me I found him banged up and blue with cold on the street.

I’m gonna go look for him. Just to check he’s okay. And if he is, I won’t even invite him over. I’ll leave it up to him. He has the key to my home, and more. It’s up to him to use it.

Grabbing my jacket, I fire one last message to a pissed-off Ocean that I’ll join them tomorrow night. The event starts tomorrow, spanning the whole weekend, and of course I’ll be there. I work there, it’s my job.

Timing couldn’t be worse.

Anyway, one thing at a time. I open the door to get out—and find Jason right in front of me. He jerks back, eyes wide, and I hesitate, not sure how to handle this, even if my pulse is pounding in my ears.

The key I gave him glints in his hand. As he comes to a halt a few paces away, face flushed from the cold, I see that he has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

He’s here. He came to stay the night, like he promised.

Happiness shoots through me, and I grin at him. “You made it.”

A flash of surprise goes through his eyes, then something else I don’t have time to read before he nods and looks away. “You were going out. I can come back later.”

“I was going out to look for you.” I close the distance between us, grab his wrist and yank him to me. Distantly I hear the thud of his duffel hitting the floor. “No need for that now.”

His eyes have gone round. He grabs at my arms and gasps when I cock my head to kiss him. I hunt after his mouth, slant my lips over his, and he pulls me against him with a groan I feel all the way to my bones.

And other places.

Taste of spicy cinnamon gum and pot sweetness, and underneath it all Jason’s dark bitter licorice of sexy male. He lets me walk him back a few steps, then he shoves me right back, toward the apartment door.

I like the direction this is going. I really do. My back hits the doorframe, and I use the momentum to twist us around so I’m the one pushing him into my apartment.

He shoves at my chest. “My bag.”

Breathing hard, my dick hard to the point of pain and my ch

est strangely light, I jab a finger into a solid biceps. “Don’t move.”

His mouth quirks, and I shake my head at myself for feeling so ridiculously happy as I go fetch his bag from outside. I heft it over my shoulder, enter and kick the door shut with my foot. I put it down gently, although it’s light and feels filled mainly with clothes.

“Now,” I say taking his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs over his mouth, “where were we?”

He grips my wrists as if he wants to yank my hands away, but he doesn’t. “Every time,” he whispers, “I tell myself I won’t come to you. And every single time I fail.”

“Why’s that?”

A slight roll of his shoulders. “I dunno.”

“You can’t resist me. Admit it.”

He sighs. “Really?”

I grin and press my forehead to his. “I’m irresistible.”

Maybe I’m pushing it. I fully expect a snarky comeback, and I’d deserve it.

But he closes his eyes and says, “You are.”

Well, damn. I resist the urge to throw him over my shoulder and carry him to bed. Barely. Not sure he’d appreciate that. “Compliments will get you anywhere. Jase—”