As I walk up the steps to my house, arm in arm with Jameson, I can’t help but grin. I wouldn’t dare say it out loud to him, but anyone who saw us right now would definitely thing that we were going back to my house to screw. Or even more than that, a bystander might assume that we’re dating.

I giggle a little at that. The idea of big, bad Jameson showing up to take me on a date is ridiculous.

…isn’t it?

“Isn’t what, Emma?” he says. I didn’t realize I was speaking aloud, and I flush. “Have you got your keys?”

“Don’t need them.” I fling the front door open. I step inside, grinning like a maniac. “Ta-da!”

He instantly scowls. “Jesus, Em. You two leave your front door unlocked all the time?”

“Yep. Evie lost her key last week. Don’t tell any big, scary men, though.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him as he closes the door behind himself.

“That’s going to have to change,” he says. “Not tonight, though. Can we go to your living room?”

“No no no,” I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward my bedroom. “Come in here. There’s an album that I really, really need to listen to right now.”

“Can’t you listen to it in the living room?” he asks.

I turn a corner and stop dead, making him run into me. “Ohhhh, no. There’s no sound system in there.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

I continue to pull on his arm, dragging him into my bedroom. Like the rest of the house, my bedroom is tiny. It just fits the bed and a chest of drawers, with an itty bitty closet to match. Jameson has seen my bedroom before obviously, but when we enter the room, he eyes it uncertainly.

“Sit,” I command him, pointing at the bed. “I have the album somewhere.”

He sits on the side of the bed, looking rigid and uncomfortable. I giggle as I reach for my ipod on the desk, which is hooked up to a bluetooth speaker.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Mmm? Oh. I’m just laughing at how you’re sitting on my bed like you haven’t been naked as the day you were born before in here.” I queue up my favorite m83 album, which is appropriate music for the moment, I think.

“Hmm,” is his only comment. When I turn around, he is looking at me suspiciously. “I love this album.”

“Really? I do too!” I grin, walking around to the other side of the bed. “It’s so like… dreamy and atmospheric and intense, all at the same time.”

I sit down, peeling my kitten heels off. I sit back on my bed, stretching out and sighing. “This is sooooo nice.”

And it’s true. I feel great, like thousands of little lightning bugs are just beneath my skin, but in a good way. Stretching feels good. Laying still feels good. Everything just feels good.

I bite my lower lip. I want to ask Jameson to give me a mini massage, but I don’t want him to freak out. Actually, I want to jump his bones, but then he would for sure call Asher to come take care of me.

I would way rather have Jameson as a babysitter than my big brother.

Jameson turns his head to look at me. “Doing okay over there?”

I smile wanly, feeling insanely relaxed. “Sure, I’m okay. I was just wondering how to ask you to rub my shoulders without being weird, that’s all.”

That makes him chuckle. “Let me grab you a glass of water first. Then we’ll talk about shoulder rubs some more.”

“Oooookay,” I reply in a singsong voice. I hear him get up and leave the room.

I close my eyes, flinging my arms out wide. I feel the bed beneath me, the cotton comforter and sheets super soft, the pillow just firm enough. It’s pleasant. The whole world seems so nice right now, capable of sending nothing but good things my way. One of my hands drifts to the short hem on my leg, feeling the difference between the linen of my dress and the smooth skin underneath.

“Here,” Jameson says, surprising me by being right beside me. He sits down on the bed, making it creak under his weight, and hands me a huge glass of water. “Drink as much as you can. Your body is running a little warm because of the drugs, and you don’t want to get dehydrated.”

I take the glass, drinking it down in several lengthy swallows. “Mmm. It’s good.”

“Want more?”

“Nah, not right now,” I say. I set the glass down on the floor, then I sit up. “I want you to rub my shoulders, though.”

He looks at me, gauging how serious I am. Or maybe he’s trying to tell how high I am, I can’t tell.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” I beg. “I just want to feel touch right now.”

Relenting, he sighs. “Okay. Turn around.”

He spins his finger. I hurry to do as he says. I really do want to be touched right now, so bad that I have goosebumps breaking out all over my arms, neck, and even my neckline.

His warm hands finally land on my shoulders, rubbing them so intensely that I actually moan out loud. He pauses, lifting his hands off of my skin, but I scoot backward towards him. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Jameson starts to rub my shoulders again, the pressure delightfully hard. I stay quiet, but it’s a struggle not to get loud as hell. He works out all the little knots in my shoulders, and then moves to my neck.

Oh. My. God. Has anything ever felt so wonderful? I can’t believe that it has.

I close my eyes, listening to the music, which seems to swell and grow. As he massages me, I slowly drift to one side and back, so that I’m pretty much lying down on his lap. But I do it stealthily, so that I’m there before he even notices how close we are.

He tires, and pets my hair instead of massaging me. That’s a-okay by me, though. When I think about it, I am living my dream right now. All those teenaged fantasies… all the times that I thought about him while I was using my vibrator… all the moments where I called out his name in this very bed, alone and growing lonelier by the moment?

Yeah, they pale in comparison to having him here with me, in any capacity. Having Jameson in this room is fucking fantastic, and that’s a fact.

Eventually I open my eyes, glancing up at him. I look at his short, dark hair, at his gorgeous black-brown eyes, at his strong jawline with two days worth of stubble. I realize with a shock that he’s been gazing at me, something dark in his eyes. Lust, longing… or both maybe?

Maybe that’s just what I am wishing to be there. But I will him to do that thing he does, for his gaze to drop to my mouth once more.

Then… he looks at my mouth, subconsciously biting his lush lower lip. I can’t stop myself from moving my head upward, seeking his lips with my own. He bends slightly, bowing his head. I feel the warmth of his breath fanning across my lips.

He’s actually going to do it, I realize.

He closes the distance, touching his lips to mine.

And it’s like heaven. His mouth is so much warmer than it ever was in my fantasies, even though this kiss is very light. Exploring, tentative.

I open my mouth a little, letting my tongue find his, stroking it ever so gently. Then he surprises me. He growls, a sound of frustration.

I know that feeling all too well, where Jameson is concerned. So I sit up, push him back into the pillows, and begin anew. This time, we’re face to face, our eyes fluttering closed as our mouths open to each other. I put my hands onto the lapels of his leather jacket, clutching them.

I feel his hands on my waist, his touch unbearably light. I feel like he isn’t committing to kissing me, and that’s just not acceptable. So I nip his lower lip, inviting him to play harder.

After all, that is what I want. I want the whole package, the guts and the glory.

When you look at Jameson, you see this bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. You can just tell that he likes it rough, that he leaves bruises and bite marks in his wake. You can guess that after a good long night, with the right person under his command, he would leave the bedroom with scratch marks and hickies and god knows what else.

War wounds.

So I bite him, just to see what kind of reaction I get. He growls into my mouth, his hand coming up to sink into the hair behind my head. He controls me like a puppet, moving my head just so, giving himself complete access to my mouth. He leans forward, his kiss turning harsher, almost punishing me.

With his free hand, he cups my face, the gesture at once tender and yet still dominant. My breath grows into shallow pants of excitement.

I’m his. I’m finally, finally his.

I have never felt anything quite like the way he touches me. I need this.

I gasp when he leaves my mouth, gripping my head and turning it to expose the supple column of my neck. I can feel the power he holds back, palpable and obvious. I get goosebumps again as I realize that finally, I am under his thrall.

His hand leaves my face, cupping my breast instead. I moan a little at his touch, arching my back.

More, I need more.

Then his kiss slows just before he reaches my collarbone, grinding to a halt. He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his breath coming in silent gasps.

I open my eyes, and he opens his. I see that combination of lust and longing there again, but this time he pushes me away.

“No,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “No, this isn’t right.”

He shoves me off of him, standing up. I look up at him, confused and speechless. He shakes his head.

“We can’t. Asher would never understand. If he found out, and I lost my best friend…” He looks tortured. “I can’t let that happen. Especially not now, when you’re high as a fucking kite. Jesus.” He takes a couple steps back. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

I find my words. “Nothing is wrong with you. You’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you. It’s like… meant to be.”

Jameson won’t hear it, though.

“No,” he says, shaking his head again. “This can’t happen. This didn’t happen, as far as either of us knows.”

“But, Jameson—” I start to protest. But it’s too late. He’s turned to steel.

“I’m going to sit in the kitchen.” He starts moving toward my door.

“Wait, let’s just talk—”

He looks at me. “This? This… weird thing that’s between us, whatever it is? It cannot happen. It can never happen, understand?”

I scowl at him. “But why? Why do you resist something that you so clearly want?”

“Ask your brother. He’s the one that makes all the rules in our kingdom.”

And then he walks out the bedroom door. Leaving me bewildered, high as hell, and on the verge of tears.

I was so close to getting what I wanted. I could touch him, taste him, smell him.

What will it take to break him? I wonder.

I lie back on the bed, plotting and planning on how I can find out.