Page 27 of Fatal Fantasy

“First and last time for everything. You’ll always be Jasper to me. Even when we’re old and grey,” I smile, trailing my fingers along the column of his neck, watching as the goosebumps prickle, following the path I leave.

“And you’ll always be my little ice princess. My sole reason for living, breathing, and believing in things like soulmates.” He drops the load of romance right into my lap, and I can’t help but gush at his cavity-inducing sweetness.

“I love you, Jasper.” I pull him close, wrapping a hand around his throat, daring him to make a move, say it back, or run for the hills.

I’m reminded of our first kiss, the two of us caught in the same trap, just waiting for the other to cave first, but this time, I’d jump right off the cliff if it meant he’d follow me down.

“I love you too, Principessina,” he breathes, copying my stance by snaking his palm around my neck, the ultimate form of our own brand of intimacy.

“Now kiss and make up.” Tyson shuts the door, breaking the trance Jasper and I were caught in, but for the first time, fear doesn’t take the lead, my body remaining perfectly calm, whereas I’ve been jumpy at the slightest intrusion.

With one command from Tyson, heat flushes my entire body, a warm reminder of the bond we all share bringing a smile to my face.

“I could never say no to that,” Jasper says, curling his fingers under my chin until our lips meet in the middle, sparks erupting as I re-familiarize myself with how it feels to be utterly devoured by him.

Just like the first – and last – time we kissed, Jasper doesn’t take it easy in the slightest.

Our teeth collide as we both try to steal control, our hands roaming each other’s bodies with hunger, the lust sweeping us under a rip current so powerful, it may take a tsunami to break us apart.

He tugs at my hair, gripping the roots as he peels his lips off mine, trailing open-mouthed kisses along my jawline while soft moans escape from deep within my chest.

“Oh, fuck, Jasper,” I breathe, but before we can make another move, Tyson’s phone rings, breaking our focus as we all freeze in place.

“Who has that number, Ty?” Jasper asks, speaking slowly as we gauge the alarmed look in Tyson’s eyes, paired with his tense body language, and it speaks volumes without him having to utter a single word.

“Nobody but you.” He stares at the timeless flip phone, the obnoxious ringer filling the silence, but finally Tyson answers the call, placing it on speaker so we can all hear, and when the voice on the other end bounces off the walls, my heart drops into my stomach, the very thing I was afraid of coming to fruition way sooner than I’d expected.

My world crashes in an instant, but I’ve been given a gift in the short few hours since being reunited with my boys, and it’ll have to be pried from my cold, dead hands before I give it up willingly – hope.

“Tyson Kelly. I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

TWELVE

JASPER

Kissing Carter.

Touching Carter.

Breathing the same fucking air as Carter has me weak in the knees, completely at her mercy, just as the universe intended.

She’s my personal drug, a habit I could never kick, a shot of heroin that permanently lives in my veins, but I love every bit of the high that only she can bring.

After our messy reunion, subsequent dump of information, and a terrifying nightmare, Carter is back in my arms, our connection restored with a few shared moments.

Every seed of doubt I carried about her – the previous reasons for her being with us, and even the depths of her love – were all erased, because the only confirmation I truly needed was to stare into her eyes.

The details of her time spent in California have ripped my insides to shreds, my still breathing body barely hanging on, but I have to stay strong for her.

Reacting like Tyson, or in the ways I normally would, won’t be helpful, so instead, I’m choosing to meet her trauma with gentleness, something I never knew I was capable of, but it’s the exact dose of comfort required to bring tiny slivers of the girl I love back to the surface.

Every inch of my body wants to be pressed against hers.

My tongue longs to be in her mouth, fighting alongside hers as if we haven’t missed a second, but one phone call has upended our reunion, and the glimmer of light I saw earlier has quickly been overshadowed by a singular voice echoing around this tiny motel room.

“Tyson Kelly. I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

Three sets of eyes meet each other in the middle of the floor, all of us too stunned to speak as what we knew was coming, happened so soon.