But okaaay.
“Yes. That’s the plan.”
He grins and nods. Then silence—long, awkward, charged silence.
Eventually, he glances around the room. “You know the jet leaves in like an hour, right?”
“Shit!” I curse.
Jett slides past me into my room and starts picking up my clothes as though he lives here, piling them onto the bed. My brows knit as I watch him touch my things like it’s his damn job or something.
“What are you doing?”
Jett grabs a bra with a cheeky grin just as another knock rattles the door. He spins toward it, still holding the damn bra, and pulls it open.
And standing there…
Backpack slung over one shoulder, jaw clenched tight…
Is Mercs.
My breath catches.
His eyes drop to the lace bra dangling from Jett’s fingers. Then slowly, they climb back up to Jett’s face. A look of pure fury flashes across Mercs’ features as he drops his bag and storms into the room, grabbing Jett by the collar and shoving him hard.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jett barks, shoving back.
“What the fuck do you thinkyou’re doing, you little prick?” Mercs snarls, his voice raw and dangerous.
They’re chest to chest, tension crackling like static, and I hover on the edge of it, unsure if I should intervene, but also weirdly loving this alpha-off.
“I was helping her pack,” Jett says, smirking. “Came to talk about the set list. What’s your issue?”
“My issue isyou, in here, with Effa half-naked and her bra in your fucking hand, like you’ve got a chance. You don’t. She’smine. So back off before I make you.”
My heart skips.
Mine.
Mercs isn’t posturing. He means it.
And God, it’s sexy as hell.
Jett shrugs, tosses the bra aside, and mutters, “Later, cupcake,” before he saunters toward the door.
Mercs follows, delivering a final shove before Jett steps out.
Then the door slams with a satisfying bang.
I tilt my head. “Hmmm…”
Mercs turns back to me, his eyes dark and hooded. He stalks toward me with deliberate steps, gaze hot as it rakes down my barely dressed body. “When you’re wearing something that fucking sexy…” he growls, “… it should be formyeyes only.” His hands grab my waist, dragging me into him as I gasp. One hand fisting in my damp hair, he yanks me forward and crashes his mouth to mine.
His kiss is a storm—rough, wild, claiming—and I let him take every piece of me.
My body instantly reacts to him, and my hands rush around his back as I melt into him. We continue to kiss, his tongue dancing with mine. I’m not sure how, but he intensifies the kiss, taking full control, and pushes me into my bedroom and up against the wall. His body cages mine, all heat and muscle, pressing so firmly against my bare skin that there’s nothing else I can feel but him, thick, solid, and hard with want.
His hands are rough and demanding as they roam down my sides, gripping my hips with a possessive edge. One hand sneaks beneath my panties, and I gasp against his lips as his fingers find me slick, needy, already aching for him.
