Jared hands me a grilled cheese and takes a seat next to me on his bed. I switched on the small TV that sits on his dresser when he left to go make us some food.
He grabs the remote, and I grab his hand. “I don’t think so.”
He blinks, and I stare at his tired eyes. “What?” he asks.
I remove the remote from his hand and place it on the nightstand beside me. “Jason Statham is on. That means you keep your paws off the remote.” I take a bite from my grilled cheese.
He guffaws then looks at me. “Wait, you’re serious?”
I swallow, giving him a glare. “Deadly.”
He tries to stop the laughter. His lips press together, his chest heaves, and then it finally escapes. “Shit, I’m sorry. But that’s just—”
“Just what?” I snap.
“Never mind. If you like older men, that’s your problem, Frost.”
I drop my sandwich to my plate. “Problem? I see no problem with crushing on an attractive man with a fucking great accent.” Picking my sandwich back up, I take a huge bite and stick my nose in the air while I chew.
“You like British accents, do you, love?” Jared asks in what has to be the worst attempt at one I’ve ever heard.
I cough and swallow just in time to avoid choking, dropping my sandwich and plate when I fall backward onto the bed and laugh louder than I think I’ve ever laughed before.
“Oh, my God …” I swipe under my eyes, checking my fingers for mascara.
Jared drops down beside me on an arm, leaning over me with a soft smile on his face. “That’s a damn powerful laugh you got there, Frost.”
The smile wilts off my face. “What do you mean?”
He rubs his thumb underneath my eye, gathering the leftover wetness and sucking it from his thumb. “I mean …” He lowers even more until we’re almost nose to nose. “It always sounds dragged out from somewhere deep inside. Long forgotten, a little broken, but a whole lot beautiful.”
I suck in a harsh breath; my eyes stuck on his. “You can be very sweet sometimes.”
He frowns. “I can?”
With my lips curling, I nod. “You can. Surely, you know that.”
He seems to think about it for a second. “Nah, I think you just have this uncanny way of making me spill my thoughts.”
“Really?” My voice turns into a whisper.
“Really.”
My stomach feels like it’s vibrating. I push some more. “What are you thinking now?”
He grins, bopping me on the tip of my nose with his finger. “Nice try, beauty.”
I lift my own to trace the tiny scar under his bottom lip. “Where’d you get this scar?”
His gaze shutters momentarily. “Fight.”
His reluctance to tell me more has my hand moving to the back of his head to bring his lips to mine. He tastes like cheese, but I guess I do too. I don’t even care because underneath it is the taste of him. And I’m becoming so addicted to it that when he parts my lips to slip his tongue inside, my chest fills with the kind of soul-deep satisfaction I never expected to find from a man. Let alone a kiss.
When our breathing gets heavy, and our hands start to roam, he pulls back. “Eat.” He pecks my lips and sits up. “You’ll need your strength.” He winks and returns to his food. We eat in silence, and he takes our plates out when we’re done.
Eyeing his bare chest and arms when he walks back in, I ask, “What made you decide to get the tattoos?”
I lie down on my back, staring at him as he crawls across the bed to lie next to me. Bending his elbow, he rests his head on his hand. “I probably should’ve told you this before now …” He sighs, and I hold my breath in anticipation of what he’s going to say. “But I have this weird obsession with the dead. What do they call it again?” He shrugs. “I dunno. But my dream job has always been to work in a morgue; maybe one day create some zombies …” I slap his chest, and he laughs, catching my hand and tugging me to him.
“You should’ve seen the way your eyes bugged out.” He pokes my ribs, and I groan.
“Shut up. Some people do, you know? Have a fascination with the dead.”
“Oh, I know. I really don’t, though.” He pauses. “You find that out in one of those books of yours?”
I tilt my head back to glare at him.
“Well?” he asks.
“Fine. Yes, I did. But still, you didn’t answer my question.”
His arm wraps around me when I roll over to face the TV, his finger drawing circles on the bare skin of my stomach. “A friend of mine was doing his apprenticeship years ago and needed a practice dummy.” He snickers. “Lucky for me, he was actually really good. One of the best in the state now.”
A tired laugh flutters out of me. “You’re crazy. They’re permanent.”
“I know. But what’s life without a little risk?”
He doesn’t know, and how could he? How much those casually spoken words hit me right in the gut. Taking a deep breath, I relax back into him to finish watching the movie, which Jared begrudgingly admits isn’t that bad, before I fall asleep.
Bright morning light filters in around the gaps of the sheet hanging over Jared’s bedroom window. I lie here, tired but too awake to fall back asleep. I think that has something to do with the strong arm wrapped around my waist and the warm puffs of breath blowing over my shoulder blade and arm. His face feels like it’s squished into the side of my back. Warmth saturates my chest. It’s kind of cute, but I’d find it cuter if I didn’t need to pee so damn bad.
I must’ve passed out during the movie because Jared woke me up with his head between my legs at some point in the very early hours of the morning. He then climbed on top of me, filling me and fucking me slowly, licking and sucking my neck the whole time. He must’ve been tired, but I’m beginning to think he likes slow and lazy as much as he likes hard and fast. My legs squeeze together at the memory. And as if he can sense what I’m thinking about, he shifts, groaning throatily and grinding his morning wood into my ass.
“Morning, Frost.” His hand moves up to my breast to hold it firmly in his hand.
“Morning.”
He squeezes it then rolls to his back, stretching his arms over his head. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, I get up, running out of the room in search of the bathroom.
His laughter follows me. “Where’s the fire?”
I don’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, I open and close doors and find two more bedrooms. One of them is filled with boxes and an old bed. I hesitate when I open the door to the third. The bed is made, and there are bike magazines and a romance novel featuring a man with a bare chest on the nightstand.
Letting my eyes roam for a second longer than what I’m guessing I should, I notice a framed picture on the dresser of a young couple as well as some coins and what looks like a set of keys.
My brows furrow, but my urge to pee is stronger than my curiosity, so I close the door quietly and keep moving until I find the bathroom a bit farther down the hall. After relieving myself and washing my mouth out with some off brand mouthwash, I wash my face and try to fix my sex hair the best I can. I grumble quietly, not having much luck, but it’ll have to do.
I get dressed, walking out of the bedroom to the smell of coffee and following it to the kitchen, where I find Jared leaning against the counter and drinking some.
“You okay?” he asks.
My head bobs up and down, my gaze moving to the scuffed wooden floor.
Chin up, Vera. No one makes you feel uncomfortable.
I lift my eyes, though it’s hard because he makes me feel a lot of strange things. Uncomfortable only being one of them.
Looking around the kitchen, I take in the old wooden cabinets and tiled countertops in the daylight. It’s really kind of cute in a cottage kind of way. His appliances don’t look too outdated except for the oven and stovetop.
He gestures to the other mug sitting on the counter. “I’d assume black if I hadn’t already seen for myself that you add milk.” He lowers his mug. “Sugar’s over there if you want some.”
I ignore the barb and take a seat on a stool. It creaks as I do but seems sturdy enough. Dragging my mug over to me, I try not to cringe. I don’t know if I’ve ever had instant coffee. Feeling rotten over that tiny, insignificant fact, I bring the mug to my lips and try not to show my distaste for it.
Jared breathes out a short laugh. “You can hate it. Don’t bother pretending on my account.” He tips his mug back, draining the contents before turning to rinse it out and place it in the sink.
“Any caffeine will do,” I mutter and drink at least half of it before taking it over to the sink to rinse it out and place it next to his.
He clears his throat, and I turn around to find him standing in the entryway. “I actually have to work today.” He scratches his head. “I know it’s a dick move on my part, but it’s true, and I’m already a few hours late.”
My eyes narrow. “But it’s the weekend.”
He shrugs, turning and walking away. “Yeah, but it’s my business, and I can’t afford to close shop on a Saturday. I’ll meet you in the truck.”
Oh. Heat crawls across the back of my neck. Biting the inside of my cheek, I try to snap out of it. It’s not like I was expecting anything. Okay, I guess part of me was hoping he’d ask for more time. Or to see me again before he walked out of my life … again.
I make my way back to his room when I hear his loud truck start outside. Bending down, I pick up my purse from where it fell from his nightstand to the floor and is half hidden underneath his bed. My eyes snag on something pink. I reach over a bit farther and pluck out a pair of pink lace panties. Cringing, I toss them to the floor and move to the bathroom to wash my hands quickly.
Pink lace is not my thing, so I know instantly they’re not mine. I try to ignore the jealousy scorching my insides and making my heart twist. Who knows when they could’ve ended up there, really. But just knowing he’s been with someone else in his bed … I shake my head. Shit, what is happening? I’m starting to sound a little crazy.
I head outside and climb into his truck, doing up my seat belt while Jared backs out of his driveway. He hits the brakes when some guy comes running out from the shack of a house next door to his. He stops by Jared’s window, asking for a cigarette and maybe a few dollars. Jared winces and tries to introduce us. I ignore him, though, looking out the window while Jared deals with him.
This really is a charming neighborhood.
The drive back to my apartment is quiet. Gone is the sexually charged energy that I’ve come to recognize when we’re together. In its place is a cold, awkward kind of silence that has my ears ringing.
When he pulls up outside my apartment complex, it’s almost eleven in the morning, and my stomach grumbles loudly.
He puts his truck in park and curses. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t even offer you breakfast.”
I shrug, grabbing my purse and opening the door. “Don’t worry about it; I’m not much of a breakfast eater anyway.” God knows why I’m trying to make him feel better with that lie.
He seems to see through it, though, staring at me while I stand beside the open door. But he doesn’t say anything. Not about that or anything else.
My thoughts scream at him. Ask to see me again. Tell me you’ll call me. Demand a kiss goodbye. Anything other than just staring at me as if he can’t decide whether I’m worth the trouble.
I step back onto the sidewalk. “Okay, well thanks.” Slamming the door closed, I turn away and walk up to the gate, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment weighing down every step I take away from him.