Page 20 of Jetmir

The papers were filed. The annulment was final.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

If someone had told a nineteen-year-old me that I’d be divorced by twenty-two, I would’ve laughed in their face. Joke’s on me though because who’s laughing now. Not even this little puppy could ease a sting of it all.

My papa claimed it was for the best. After all, Jetmir had deceived me, lied to me, and ultimately, his actions blinded my brother.

Dozer snorted and tugged me toward a patch of grass.

“You’re a very bossy man,” I muttered. His tail wagged proudly. “Probably the only one who won’t disappoint me too. Well, you and my book boyfriends.”

At least the men in my books were predictable and appreciated their heroines. And they sure as fuck didn’t lie to them.

Shit, that was the problem. Lies I could have forgiven. But hurting my brother…? That was a bridge too far even for my cursed ex-husband.

Gabriel had never brought up Albania and the explosion that destroyed his vision. He didn’t blame me, but that didn’t matter. I blamed myself for being so trusting and stupid. I believed Jetmir Thorne Volkov-Tijuana to be some morally gray hero, but it turned out he was just a villain.

The street curved toward a small park, and I followed the path absentmindedly while Dozer investigated every bush he passed.

My thoughts drifted again, replaying memories I should’ve buried long ago.

The small airfield sat in the countryside beyond Connecticut, surrounded by open fields that rippled in the wind. The scent of cut grass and aviation fuel enveloped me, and every gust that brushed against my skin seemed determined to remind me of what I was about to do.

“I must have lost my mind,” I muttered to myself. I hated heights, yet the erotic scene I’d read last month had sprouted an idea I couldn’t shake. I needed to go skydiving and my instructor had to be hot. Easy enough ask, right?

The sight of the plane waiting on the tarmac made my stomach twist. Its propeller spun in a silver blur, filling the air with a deep mechanical growl that vibrated through my chest. Around me, people chatted and laughed, as if jumping out of an airplane was a perfectly normal way to spend a day.

“You okay?”

I turned and lifted my head slightly, my breath catching in my throat. The hottest man I’d ever seen was watching me with interest, holding my gaze captive. He stood a short distance away, yet I felt him as if he were pressed against me, his strong, veiny hand wrapped around my throat and⁠—

Damn it, Anya, get your hormones in check.

Still though, I couldn’t keep my eyes from getting their fill of his broad frame, pausing on the jeans that hugged his long, muscular legs.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, his voice deep and raspy. I looked up at the slight stubble covering his face that gave him a slightly harsher edge, and zeroed in on his mouth. Then I remembered his question and I smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah, totally… Yes, totally okay.” I extended my hand, the slut in me hoping electricity might zap me the moment we touched and he’d jump my bones. “I’m Anya.”

He flashed me a smile, showing off a full set of brilliant whites. “Hello, Anya. I’m Thorne.”

He took my hand into his and a slight shudder rolled down my spine. This! This was what my smutty books spoke of.

“Thorne,” I repeated, tasting his name on my lips.

“Are you jumping today?” he asked casually, the confidence in his posture doing things to me.

“Jumping?” I repeated, images of collapsing into bed with him flashing through my mind. Yes, sir. I’m jumping. Right. The. Hell. Now.

“Yeah, skydiving…?”

Oh.

“Ummm, yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Depends on the instructor.”

He chuckled, and my heart did a little flip. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to yank his head full of dark hair and hold on to it while he… No. Get yourself together, woman!

“Why does it depend on the instructor?” he asked, curiosity lacing his expression.