Jesse (Damage Control 2)
“JJ.” And how can I push her away when she calls me this, when she looks at me like I’m something I’m not?
“Just checking you were okay,” I say gruffly, getting off the bed and running a hand over my shorn hair.
“You were checking.” Her voice drops to a mere whisper, and if I was hoping for sarcasm, I never get it. She only sounds… disappointed.
Then again, that’s what I do. I disappoint people I care for, and what I feel for her is too big for words.
“You seem okay now,” I say and go to stand by the window, looking out at a sliver of cloudy sky and the gray building across the street. “I should get going soon. Don’t wanna be late for work.”
She makes a small sound, and I turn toward her. She’s sitting up, smoothing down her blouse, lifting the strap back into place, and I can’t stop staring at her. She’s so sexy, and she doesn’t seem to even know it. “You don’t start at the café until four.”
Forcing my gaze away, I turn back to the window. I should be irritated that she calls me out on my bluff. But I’m not.
“Still have to go.” I need to do something else first… something that has been bugging me ever since I told her what happened on that street and how I got my scars.
“Where?” She walks without a sound to stand beside me.
“Is that your second question?”
She shakes her head, glares, and I can breathe again. “You’re a bastard.”
“I couldn’t tell you for sure.” I shrug and brace one arm on the wall by the window. “Don’t know who my parents are. It’s possible, I guess.”
“Not funny, JJ.” Back to being pissy. The pressure in my chest releases, and I grin at her. I don’t have to run away. Somehow I’m not ready to give her up—yet—even if I barely have her at all.
“Never said it was.”
Neither of us seems willing to talk about the elephant in the room. Kissing her was heaven. Now I’m shooting down the rabbit hole faster than a bullet.
She walks a few steps away and comes to a halt in front of my drawings. I’ve got some taped to the wall. Easier for me to tell if they are good crap or bad crap this way, rather than having them inside my drawing pad.
“Did you make these?” she asks.
“No, I rent them with the room,” I say before I can get control of my mouth. “It came furnished.”
“Really?”
“No. I drew them.” I want to walk to where she is and put my arms around her, bury my nose in the crook of her pale neck. But of course I don’t.
“Love the portraits.” She drifts further away, scrutinizing my art, then returns to the window.
“I also draw monsters and flowers. Monsters are my specialty.” It’s the truth. From demons to dragons to strange hybrids.
“Monsters, huh?”
She’s so close. Again. Her faint coconut scent wafts up to me, makes me think of sun-kissed beaches and palm trees. She’s wearing small silver hoops in her ears, tiny beads threaded in them, green, and red, and white, and blue.
“What about you? Did you make the earrings you’re wearing, or are you renting them with the dress?” I want to touch them, tug on them, bite the shell of her small ear, make her moan again like before…
She laughs, reaches up to touch one hoop, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop a groan. Fuck, I’ve never wanted a chick so much in my life. What is it about her that’s so intoxicating?
“Yeah, I made them. I’m thinking of selling them. I want to open an online store.”
“Sounds like a great idea.” I lick my lips and regret it instantly. Her sweet taste lingers, and the hard-on I’ve been trying to lose returns with a vengeance. Fuck.
How on Earth am I going to manage this? How can I stop myself from kissing her again, touching her, thrusting into her when she’s here, right here with me? Hell.
My gaze is drawn back to the curve of her tits under the thin fabric of her blouse. She’s not wearing a bra, I think, and damn if my dick’s not back to drilling a hole through my pants.