Page 66 of Sweet Surrender

My throat is dry. “We already completed our first task in Operation Live-A-Little . . .”

“Hmm.”

“And it seems I didn’t promise your brother anything.”

His jaw tightens. “Ask me.” His voice is raw, almost desperate.

I’ll let you get used to the idea, Cookie. Pretty sure you’re a look before you leap type of girl whereas I just leap.

I swallow. “What if I don’t need to get used to the idea? What if I feel the same way that you do?”

He freezes.

I swear the air gets thinner, the space between us charged with heat. Need. Not that we’d admit that out loud.

“Why?” His voice is barely a whisper with more gravel than honey this time, and it tugs on parts of me deep down.

Because I want to feel beautiful and wanted and sexy. Because you make me step outside myself and see someone different from what I see and I love how that feels.

“No reason.”

He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the way his fingers flex against his knee, the way his gaze burns into me. “That wasn’t a lot of time to think about it.”

I force a smirk. “Maybe I’m sick of thinking about things.”

He reaches out and links his fingers with mine. “Then why are you nervous? I can feel you trembling.”

“Because you’re intimidating.”

His brows pull together and he chuckles. “I’m gonna need more words than that, Cookie.”

I exhale slowly. “It means . . . clearly, you have more experience than me, and . . . I’m bound to not live up to what . . . never mind.”

Jase snorts, shaking his head. “My first inclination is to tell you you’re being ridiculous. My second is to ask who the fuck made you think that?”

“Forget I said anything.”

He leans back, studying me like he’s trying to unravel something. His expression darkens, his body going rigid. “Who?”

I force out a laugh, but it sounds brittle. “I—”

“Fuck You, Paul.” He says the three words like a curse, dragging a hand through his hair. The muscles in his jaw tick, and his body tenses.

I can’t meet his eyes. My fingers in my lap look more interesting than anything else here.

He exhales sharply, and in the deafening silence, shifts to face me. He lifts my chin up with his finger so that I’m forced to meet his eyes. For the first time since I’ve met him, he looks like he’s barely keeping it together.

“Was it?” he asks.

“It’s not relevant.”

His chuckle is low and unforgiving and the warning in it, or the look in his eyes as he holds mine, has chills racing over my skin.

“How about this? I’m going to make it my mission to fuck the remnants and Paul and all his criticisms right out of you. And when I do, then you’ll know just how goddamn relevant it is.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Hendrix