Dad’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him. There’s no denying what we’ve been up to, not with our clothes flungin every direction, hair mussed from our hands, the smell of sex mixing with my scented candles.
“Sir,” Jett starts, voice hoarse.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I blurt, which is the most incriminating thing to say, especially when it looks exactly like what it is.
Both men whip their heads in my direction.
“Way to play it cool,” Jett mutters.
Dad raises a hand, expression unreadable. “I might’ve been born at night, kids, but it wasn’t last night. I’m well aware of what happens when two people—”
“Dad!” I scream, burying my face in Jett’s back as my eyes catch a black design—it feels familiar, but I don’t have a chance to examine it. Not when I’m naked with my ex-boyfriend as my dad stands over us.
“I’ll leave you two to…” His nose wrinkles, eyes moving all over the room, avoiding the nightmare in front of him. “I’m glad you’re okay. You weren’t answering your phone, and I got worried.”
Guilt sinks in my stomach. “Shit, Dad. I’m sorry I worried you.”
The muscle in his jaw tics, but he doesn’t look at us again. He turns on his heel and heads back out into the night, the door banging shut behind him.
The slam snaps me back to reality. The air has calmed around us. No sounds of thunder, only the steady rhythm of the rain hitting the metal roof.
I groan, covering my heated cheeks. “Fuck my life.”
“Wren—”
“Don’t,” I snap, gathering the blanket. “You need to leave.”
I stand, and as soon as I do, I feel his cum leaking down my thighs. I pinch my legs together to keep from making a mess. Leave it to the two of us to forget a condom. We could never remember to use protection before, and clearly, age doesn’t make us smarter. Thank God I’m on the shot. It’s the onlybirth control I could get away with, with Elias. The controlling motherfucker.
His eyebrows knit, jaw flexing, and I keep my gaze locked on his face. The knowledge that I took the blanket, leaving him without any clothes, isn’t lost on me.
“I’m clean, by the way.”
Jett’s eyes flare, landing on the apex of my thighs. I imagine he’s wishing he could see his cum leaking out of me. “Never questioned it, but so am I. I would’ve never put you at risk.”
I shrug, clenching the blanket tighter, refusing to look at him…lying naked and glorious. The moment’s over.
“Wren—” he tries again.
“This doesn’t change anything,” I interrupt, voice shaky but firm. “What happened tonight…it was a mistake. Leave, Jett.”
Pain sears my chest at the harshness in my voice, but this is a hill I will die on. Jett Riggsby and I aren't good for each other. Too much time has passed. The scar tissue around my heart is too thick to let him back in.
His throat works, like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. With a nod, he stands. Pulling on his pants, slipping his shirt over his head, and sliding into his boots. As he starts for the door, he pauses, and my breath catches in my throat when I see the determined look he’s shooting my way.
So I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and meet his determination with my own resolve. Tentatively, he reaches out, cups my cheek in his hand, and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. An unspoken promise that this isn’t over. I’m holding my breath as his back retreats out of my cottage.
His actions just spoke louder than any words ever could, and it hits me how fucked I really am. Because Jett's right…
This is far from over.
Chapter 15
Jett
Levi
Everyone survive the storm last night?
