Finn shuts off the lights, and the entire room descends into darkness. I only see his shadow cutting across to the bed, and then the mattress groans as he sinks in.
My entire body stiffens as I realize tonight… the Shadow Prince intends to sleep with me.
Chapter Fifty
FINN
After I started taking martial arts seriously and got better at controlling my rage, the next lesson Sensei taught me was self-restraint.
The hand that tames its own flame warms the world without burningit.
We started with food, watching my diet, cutting out junk that wasn’t good for me.
Easy enough.
Then he taught me commitment to exercise, cardio, jumping rope, deadlifts, practicing my stances—boring, consistent, and unsexy habits that separate hobbyists from great fighters.
I was practicing self-restraint in every area of my life, and it naturally extended to women.
Not that I always succeeded.
I am Jarod Cross’s son after all.
But when Jinx came around and began exposing every sexual escapade my brothers had at Redwood, I slowed all the way down with sleeping around, choosing instead to focus more of my time at the dojo.
How ironic that the girl who pushed me to be more selective is now the one testing the boundaries of my restraint.
I get into bed behind J, fighting to keep my hands to myself.
Her watch is beeping like crazy. She has no reason to be afraid. I’ve never forced myself on anyone, and I don’t plan to start now.
Besides, she’s all the way on the opposite end of the bed, taking up a small slice of the mattress. If she rolls an inch more, she’s going to fall off.
Just imagining J clattering to the ground and breaking a wrist or an ankle annoys me. She’s got a bad heart. She can’t afford for any other body parts to fail her.
“Come closer,” I order.
Her back muscles stiffen. I can’t see her face, but I can imagine her scowling.
“I’m fine,” J spits.
I growl into the silence. If she insists on arguing, I’m just going to grab her and drag her against me. And that won’t end well for her.
J must come to the same conclusion because she squirms backward. “Happy?”
I’m miserable.
My eyes slide over her body that’s mere inches away. The lilac scent on her skin dances in the air, and it’s so tempting I could go insane.
This is all my fault.
It started with the damn pajamas.
The first time I saw J in those flimsy pajamas was in the hospital. That image of her bouncing on the hospital cot is embedded in my mind. I was able to describe the outfit to Martina in detail. Too many details. She even got the damn lace on the front of J’s pajamas right.
Unfortunately, Martina bought a shirt a size too small, and now every time J so much as bends over, I have a full view of her cleavage. It’s not the cup size that usually turns my head, but it’s more than enough.
“Finn, I can literally feel you glaring into my back,” J complains.
