After checking that her face was still intact, if a little angry, and reapplying her lipstick in a pointless attempt to draw attention away from the cheery red mark on her cheek, she exited the bathroom. If she’d thought she needed a drink before, she’d been dead wrong. Now she needed a drink.
“Fucking Christ, woman,” Screw said as he grabbed her arm and towed her down to the end of the hall, ensuring privacy. Before she had the chance to react, her back met the wall and Screw’s hand cupped her cheek once again
“It’s really all right. Just red and sore. Probably won’t even notice it by tomorrow night.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, gaze on her cheek. “Shouldn’t have happened. And he sure as fuck shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“While I agree on both counts, the first part truly was an accident.”
“Hmm,” he said as he leaned forward.
Her breath caught. Danger! Danger! Sexy man way too close. “W-what are you doing?”
Suddenly his hand disappeared from her face, replaced by the soft brush of his lips. “Kiss to make it better.”
Jazz trembled. Her breath froze in her lungs. Why did he have to feel so good? How could the simple stroke of his lips across her cheek have her more fired up than her last lover ever did? His mouth was soft, but firm at the same time. When he did it again, this time closer to her ear, a run of goose bumps erupted down the side of her neck.
“Screw,” she whispered, more of a plea than anything else.
But for what?
To stop, of course. It had to be for him to stop. It was the only smart choice.
“Screw,” she said with some force this time.
He drew back. Their gazes locked, and for several seconds the rapid thump, thump, thump of her heart was the only sound in her head.
“Congratulations,” she finally said. A safe topic though it came out hoarse and strained. “Looks like that meeting with Copper was a good thing.”
Screw cocked his head, studying her. She held her breath. What did he see when he looked at her?
“It was,” he said with a nod before taking hold of one of her wrists and lifting it to his mouth. “Showing forearm today, huh, Jazzy? Pretty flashy for you.”
She yanked but couldn’t break his gentle but iron clad hold. “Let go,” she said through clenched teeth. She should be grateful he’d ruined the charged moment as usual, but all she felt was annoyance.
“Not yet.” He nipped her flesh then, the bare skin of her forearm right where her sleeve ended.
Jazz fought the urge for her eyes to roll back as her knees threatened to buckle.
“Hey, what’s this?”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Screw rubbed his thumb over a two-inch-long raised scar peeking out from her sleeve. This time when she jerked her arm away, he released her.
“It’s nothing,” she said, rubbing her wrist. “Cut myself on a nail sticking out of my parents’ fence. Happened years ago.”
If he noticed she didn’t make eye contact as she spoke, he didn’t say it, just watched her as though peering through her head to all her secrets. Jazz shivered and she couldn’t say if it was arousal or unease. The two seemed to run side by side where Screw was concerned.
He leaned in and as if by reflex, Jazz’s hands went to his chest.
Push or pull?
The theme of this game they’d been playing for months.
“What are you doing?” she whispered as his mouth once again moved toward her face. Only this time, instead of kissing her or the red of her cheek, he turned his head, presenting the side of his face.
“Waiting for my thank you kiss. Now that I know you like to give them out.”
She should shove him away. Needed to make him leave. But his face was so close. The new beard he’d been working on the past few weeks had started to fill in. That rough texture would tickle her lips and be so warm against her mouth. Before her brain even had time to tell her to stop, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek in a long peck.
“Mmm,” he hummed. “That’s nice.”
Jazz let out a slow, shaky breath as she leaned away from Screw. He turned to face her, and their gazes met before his shifted to her mouth. He was close. Too close. Dangerously close. Movement over his shoulder caught her eye, drawing her attention for just one split second, but it was enough to have her heart skittering to a dead stop in her chest.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered on an exhale.
“What?” Screw turned, immediately stepping in front of her when he saw the newcomer. “You know him, Jazz?”
Battling the intense urge to run, she stared unblinking and unable to speak.
“Jazz?” he asked as he stepped closer.