“For what it's worth,” I start and wait until her eyes meet mine. “I’ll never ask for anything in return for your friendship, Liv.”
Her eyes hold mine a beat too long, like she’s weighing whether I’m safe to hand something to, some small, fragile piece of herself she doesn’t pass around freely. Whatever she finds, it relaxes the edges of her expression enough to make my heart squeeze, before she tucks it away again like it was never there.
Then she bumps my arm with her elbow. “Come on, stalker. Walk me home.”
Chapter twenty-three
Liv
WalkinghomewithJayis both the easiest and most dangerous thing in the world. Easy, because he doesn’t fill the silence with unnecessary conversation. Dangerous, because that means my brain has space to run laps around what he just said.
I’ll never ask for anything in return for your friendship, Liv.
It’s been a long time since I believed a guy when he said something like that. Maybe ever. And I can’t decide if the pinch in my chest is because I almost believe him, or I want to, or that I already do believe him. I think the latter.
I hadn’t planned on telling him anything about Rhys or why I moved here. I figured he’d eventually forget to ask, and I’d conveniently not elaborate until that happened. One thing I can’t deny is that talking about it has lessened the burden, like speaking it finally let some of the poison out.
As we approach the door to the building, he turns those soulful blue eyes onto me. “Do you have Thanksgiving plans?”
“I don’t. My mom’s not around, and my dad’s, actually, I have no idea what he’s doing, I should probably call him.”
“So you’re free?”
I tip my head toward him. “Very.”
We reach the front door, and he holds it open for me. “So, Huds and I were thinking we all get together, do like a friends thing.”
“Friendsgiving?”
“Friendsgiving,” he confirms with a smile that shows me those adorable pointy canines of his.
Just then, a fluffy ball of claws attacks my foot as I step inside. “Ow, shit, Nick Fury, what the hell are you doing?” I stagger back, trying to sidestep his assassination attempt without kicking him. He quickly lets go of my skin and dashes back inside, but my heel catches on the edge of the mat.
There’s a split second where I know I’m going down, then heat and strength close around me. Jay’s hands, firm on my arms, pulling me into him with a jolt that knocks the air right out of my lungs.
The shrinking of the doorway, forcing us together, narrows even further with the press of my body against his. He’s solid everywhere, a complete contrast to his hoodie bunched under my fists, the scent of him warm and inviting. I want to curl up in his lap like our cat does.
“I’ve got you,” he says, voice soft yet raspy, and it ripples through me like a slow electric current because now the only thing replaying in my mind is the sounds he made the other day when I knew I shouldn’t be listening to him in the shower. Those masculine, deep baritone sounds that weren’t just him sighing from a hard day, it was more. It was him touching himself, and suddenly I want to be there with him, touching him, teasing him, making him feel something. I have no idea what he imagined in that shower, but I really, really want it to be me.
I’m still frozen, lost in a time warp that seems to keep us locked in a cycle of heavy breathing and sharing the same air.His chest is rising against mine, fast and slow at the same time, and my eyes are wholeheartedly and unabashedly locked on his face, examining every single micro-expression that dances on his features. Shock, lust, fear, but those light, intent eyes framed with dark lashes and even darker glasses scan mine in a way that makes me feel as though I’m stripped bare for him, and he’s looking for something he’s not sure he’s allowed to take.
Take it, my mind screams.Take it.I want to feel him.
Somewhere beyond us, the hall is quiet, but in our bubble, every sound feels amplified: the rush of my own breathing, the faint scrape of his thumb shifting against my arm, and I tell myself, however delusional it may be, that he’s not ready to let go.
Maybe neither of us moves, but the space between our mouths feels like it’s shrinking. My fingers tighten in his hoodie without permission, clutching the soft fabric between my fingertips, anchoring myself to him even more.
“Olivia… I…” He says my full name, and it may as well be a whisper against bare skin, judging by my body’s reaction. Goosebumps layered over goosebumps, a thrill stacked on a thrill as my adrenaline spikes from just those four syllables falling from his mouth.
My pulse is a stomping elephant in my ears. My arousal ignites deep in my belly and spreads into every nerve ending I have from the ever-so slight inflection in his voice when he says my full name.
If I lean forward a fraction, we’ll both find out how far this moment can go.
Then, just as my courage catches up to my want, Nick Fury yowls from somewhere inside, the sudden sound snapping the thread between us, and everything comes back into focus like a slap to the face.
Jay blinks, pulls back, helping me stand properly, but his hands are still warm on me for one beat too long before they fall away and leave a cool sting in their wake.
It takes a moment to find my center of gravity again, my mind catching up to my body, skin still humming. I step inside on legs that feel unreliable, willing my body to calm down, but every inhale is laced with him. It’s ridiculous how much I miss it after only standing there for a few seconds.
