A Single Touch (Irresistible Attraction 3)

“After helping us take care of the body, he told me, ‘If you change your mind, I’m good at taking direction,’ or something like that.”

“And that convinced you?” I ask him.

“We would have been done if that asshole had gotten out and told the feds what he saw; it turned out that he was undercover. We didn’t have the police back then on our payroll. We didn’t have much protection. Things were harder then and we needed the help. That’s really what it comes down to.”

“So you aren’t friends then. Simply coworkers who rely on each other?”

“He’s more of a friend to Declan. They’re closer than we are.”

It’s quiet as we come to the stairwell and he tells me the upstairs is mostly unfinished. He’s never had a reason to complete it.

Taking my hand, he lets his middle finger trail down the lines in my palm. There’s a hint of charm and flirtation I’m not expecting. One that breaks the tension, scattering it in any and all directions until it’s gone.

“I like touching you,” he says faintly.

Something about the ease he feels around me makes me want to stay by him forever. I’m so aware of it in this moment.

So aware, that it’s frightening. With every breadcrumb of information Jase gives me, I fall deeper in love with him. Even if the pieces are perverse and disturbing… maybe more so because of it. Even if I wake up tonight like I have the past few nights, breathless and covered with a cold sweat, dreaming about the darkness I know is inside of him… even then. The fear is still there, but love is stronger. Which is why I’d fall back asleep next to him, willing my eyelids to shut and show me something sweeter.

“Ask me something,” Jase offers.

The memories of everything that’s happened flicker through my mind as I search for a question, and one is most apparent. A detail I’ve yet to tell him.

“Do you know anyone who wears white sneakers with a red stripe down the sides?”

His brow pulls together as he turns to look at me. “Why?” he asks.

I have to pull my hand away, feeling too hot, yet cold at the same time to tell him.

“When my house was broken into, that’s all I saw from where I was hiding in the cabinet.”

“White sneakers with a red stripe?” he clarifies.

“Right down the center, from front to back on the sides.”

“Why haven’t you told me this sooner? Is it all you saw? You’re sure?” The questions hold an edge to them. Not anger, not resentment, more like an edge of failure and I hate it.

“I’m sorry… I just didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know if you could trust me.” He completes the statement for me and I nod. “I’m sorry,” is all I can say, feeling like I’ve failed him.

With his hand brushing against my jaw, I lean into his touch and close my eyes, reveling in it.

“If I could start our story over and start it differently, I would. I want you to know that.”

There’s so much I’d change if I could. But then I wonder what our story would look like if it hadn’t started so intensely.

“How many women have you done this to?”

“Done what?” he asks.

“Brought back here. Showed off this place to… told your deepest, darkest secrets?”

“None. You’re the only one, cailín tine.” His nickname for me still makes my stomach do little flips in a way that excites me.

“You’ve never called anyone else that?” I tease him and he nips my neck in admonishment while wrapping his hands around my waist and letting them slip lower.

“Never. You’re my only fiery girl.”

He’s so consumed with lust in the moment, but there’s something nagging at me, something that feels off.

“Why don’t I believe you?” My question pulls him out of the moment.

“Because you see my sins, however many of them, and you’ve judged me guilty of them all.” The honesty of it stares back at me from the depths of his dark eyes. “If you’ll lie, you’ll cheat… if you’ll cheat…” He doesn’t continue and I bring my lips to his even though pain etches its way between us. “Even a saint has to start somewhere… I’ll never be a saint though. If I could change for you, change this life, this world, our pasts, I would. But it’s not going to happen. I can’t start our story over.”

I kiss him again, feeling the heat between us, feeling his hard lips soften as I press mine against his. I finally answer him, “I know.” And then remind him, “I’m not asking you to.”

When Jase tries to take me back to his bedroom, I tell him no. Instead I lead him to the plush rug in his office that’s not an office. I ask him to light the fire and I slowly undress, watching both hunger and flames in his eyes once the fire’s ignited.