Jesse (Damage Control 2)

Oh God, what am I doing here? “Cut it out, Jesse. Don’t be an ass.”

I expect a witty comeback, but instead something shutters behind his bright eyes, and strangely, I feel guilt wash over me. He rubs a hand over his face and slumps against the doorframe, muscles rolling in his arms.

“This is who I am, Embers,” he drawls, closing his eyes. “What you see is what you get. I told you that you’d get tired of me soon.”

But for the first time, I’m not so sure about that. And on top of it, I feel even worse for letting him think that.

“I found it,” I blurt out.

He sighs, opens his eyes to look at me, and instead of anger, I find something totally unexpected: defeat. “What did you find? Organic coffee? The leopard thong I lost the other day? The end of your patience?”

For some reason, I start to laugh. It’s not that what he said is all that funny—come on!—but the image of him in a leopard thong is in equal parts hilarious and hot.

What the hell’s wrong with me?

Takes me a moment to realize he’s laughing, too, but quietly, forehead pressed to the doorframe, his broad shoulders shaking, abs clenching in his belly. At least, I assume he’s laughing. From where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like he’s crying.

Definitely going crazy, I decide, my laughter dying, though I can’t stop myself from stepping forward and placing a light hand on his arm.

“JJ? You okay?”

He doesn’t move, a fine tremor going through him. Under my hand, his muscles shift and bunch, and he lifts his head. His face is inches from mine, golden skin, eyes that seem wet but maybe only seem brighter from up close, soft lips that part to let out a shaky exhale. The light musk of his sweat and a hint of cinnamon soap mingle with the minty scent of his toothpaste.

“Embers,” he whispers, shifting until he’s pushing me back on the doorjamb. It’s digging into my spine, but I barely feel it as he presses his tall body to mine and frames my head with his arms, imprisoning me between them.

He dips his face, long dark lashes fanning over his cheekbones. His eyes glimmer like gems, and his mouth that says so many funny and dirty things is so close… God, I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly. Never wanted to be kissed like I do now.

As he shifts slightly, his warm breath washing over my lips, something long and hard pokes me in the hip.

“What are you doing to me?” he hisses, pressing his forehead to mine, and I realize what I’m feeling is his cock through the thin fabric of his pants. He’s rock hard—for me.

“JJ…” My pet name for him. I shouldn’t call him this, but I keep doing it. I have to stop, have to…

The thought unravels when he lifts one hand off the wall and traces the line of my cheek and jaw, his touch feather-like, his finger pads rough and scratchy.

My skin burns. Fire races down my belly, pooling there, a painful need. A need for him, and the light brush of his corded forearm against my cheek sends tingles to every part of my body. My breasts throb, the tips aching where they are pressed to the compact planes of his chest. The look of deep concentration on his face keeps me still. His eyes are darkening to stormy blue, and the bulge of his hard-on against my belly is growing more insistent.

His thumb slips over my lips, pressing lightly, and I let them part, let him push his thumb inside. He gasps, a jolt going through his body, and overwhelmed by sensation, I release a tiny moan.

A mistake, as it turns out. Jesse withdraws from me, stepping back and lifting his hands as if afraid I’m about to pull a gun and shoot him.

Cold rushes in between us, stealing the warmth left by his body on mine. Cold, and a weird sense of loss.

“Fuck.” He turns in a circle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck!”

I’m breathless, aware of my body like never before, and he seems incensed. The cold intensifies, coming from inside of me, and I shiver, rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

He glances at me, and the blood drains from his face. “Fuck it. I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

You are, I want to say, for stopping—but he returns to me, his gaze concerned. He rubs his own hands up and down my arms, big, warm hands, and his scent returns with him, wrapping me up like a hug.

“Are you okay, Embers?” He catches my eye and stares right into me, into my soul, and what he sees there seems to startle him worse than anything else that happened today so far. “Damn.”

“What?” I finally find my voice long enough to whisper.

“I scared you again, didn’t I? Come,” he grabs my hand, tugs lightly. “I promised you coffee.”

Utterly confused, and yet unwilling to leave just yet, I follow him inside.