This wasn’t the plan.

Bringing Jason home with me—again. Showering with him, getting off. Then sharing dinner with him and having him fall asleep on me.

He’s predictably gone when I wake up, my neck stiff, curled up on the too-short sofa, but the memory of his body against mine lingers. It was… fucking sweet to have him lean on me, look at me with something else than annoyance and defiance. To see him peaceful, his face relaxed, looking so damn young and handsome.

And too thin. He’s too fucking thin, like he keeps losing weight with every passing day, and knowing he sleeps on the street on top of everything, out in the cold… it’s really gotten me worried.

Shit.

The image of him at that goddamn corner, coughing and shivering, is playing on a loop in my mind as I finish up my work at Collateral, and grab a bite before heading on to my second job.

Has he eaten anything today? Is he wearing his jacket? Dammit, that jacket’s too thin for this weather. Does he own any thick sweaters?

Where does he sleep when it rains and snows? How will I know if he needs a place to stay? Why didn’t I ask for his phone number? Why didn’t I give him mine?

Shit, I’m going nuts. I want to talk to Ocean about this, but then I’d have to tell him that I’ve been paying Jason for sex.

Or whatever it is we’re doing.

And now that I recall, I didn’t pay him last night.

Fuck. No idea what I thought I was doing. Normally he gets me so fucking pissed, and okay, horny, too—but mainly angry, not that I really know why, and last night… Last night it wasn’t like that.

Last night puts a twist in my chest, and a spring in my step, and I just can’t fucking forget about it. Whatever that was.

Afternoons I work at a small movie theater. I’m behind the counter, selling tickets, popcorn, candy, and drinks. Then I clean a bit, check that everyone is sitting quietly inside, not making a mess, and then I wait while the movie is playing.

Gives me way too much time to think.

And worry.

And want.

Jason’s mouth opening to mine, his taste, his body moving against mine, slick and strong and hot, his moans, his grip on my arms, bruising. As if he needed me. Wanted me.

I rub at the dark bruises marking my forearms underneath the fabric of my shirt, and drop my head on top of the counter. I’m hard, and fucking confused.

I should have shaken him, demanded answers. What is he doing with Shun’s and Jesse’s money if he’s not renting a room? Should I talk to them, tell them about this?

They don’t know, do they? Wouldn’t they have said something about it?

But why would they talk about him to me, when I never wanted to hear it, and Ocean thinks I hate Jason? I never told him the truth.

That I never hated him. That I was only confused and jealous. Because as it turns out, I’d wanted Jason for myself, from the moment I laid eyes on him.

Wanting another guy is a sin, according to my aunt. She gave up trying to beat the shit out of me after she realized I was growing tall and strong fast, but she never missed a chance to tell me I’d burn in hell.

Imagine hearing that for years, and then seeing Jason Vega in front of you for the first time.

Striking. Infuriating. Dangerously hot.

Broken.

Perfect.

I never thought I’d see him again after that, much less have him naked in my living room, in my arms, that he’d be on my mind day and night, not letting me rest. That he’d make me not care if I’ll burn in hell or not for a chance to touch him, and kiss him.

That the thought of seeing him again, touching him, is so damn exciting everything else fades.

I’m so fucked…

Cruising down the familiar street, I look for a certain tall, dark-haired, sexy hooker. Just to pay what I owe him for last night, I tell myself.

I’m a shitty liar.

My cell phone starts ringing as I approach Jason’s corner, and I think about how he said he sleeps there. It’s raining, fat drops thumping on the windshield. I grit my teeth and keep driving. I’ll find him.

And my damn phone keeps ringing, so I lift it to my ear and slow down. “Yeah?”

“Hey, R. Whatcha doing tonight?”

I grin. “What’s up, Shun?”

My brother huffs. “Thought you might wanna come over for a drink. Kayla is going out with the girls, and I thought we could go out just us guys, play pool or something.”

It sounds good. I’ve barely seen him these past weeks, caught up in work and then Jason. But I hesitate.

“Seth and Shane already said yes,” he says. “Micah and Jesse Lee will let me know. Asher and Tyler might be there, too. Come on.”

Yeah, it sounds awesome. I slow the truck almost to a halt, staring at the corner where Jason usually stands.

Empty.

“Nah, I… I can’t tonight.”

“Shit, really? Why not? Got some hot guy lined up and waiting for you at home?”

“Fuck you, asshole,” I say affectionately. “I’m just tired.”

“I was gonna ask next if it was that Gary guy.”

“Nah. Didn’t work out.”

Trust Ocean to accept the fact I’m into guys and not chicks without batting an eye. Then again, he told me that he’d always known.

“You all right? You haven’t been around much lately.”

“I’m fine, I promise. I just didn’t sleep well last night.” What with said hot guy in my arms, fast asleep, his short silky hair tickling my nose, his scent mixed with my shampoo.

“Why? You’re not having nightmares again?”

I blink. “Shit, man. That was long ago.” Nightmares about the accident, and Livvy’s death. Not that I don’t still have them sometimes, but nothing like before. “I promise I’m good. Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll do something together.”

“Okay. Sure.” He’s quiet for a beat. “You swear, fucking swear you’d tell me if anything was wrong, R, yeah? I’ve failed you too many times in the past. Can’t stand the thought you’re going through something bad, and I don’t know about it.”

Damn. A knot forms in my throat, and when I speak, my voice sounds weird. “I swear, man. And you never failed me. When will you believe it? You’re the reason I’m alive, and sane.”

“I don’t know.” Still quiet. “You didn’t talk to me for years, and I just…”

Fuck.

It’s been three years since I turned eighteen and left our aunt to come live here, but Ocean still feels guilty, and that’s my fault.

“I’m sorry.” I sigh. “You did your best by me. I shouldn’t have given you hell over it all.”

And why are we doing this by phone? I should go over there, see my brother, give him a hug and go shoot pool with him and the guys.

But movement on the sidewalk catches my eye, and I freeze, recognizing one of the two silhouettes in the rain.

It’s Jason.

“I gotta go now,” I tell Ocean. “We’ll talk.”

I hang up before he can reply, throw the door open and jump out of the truck. Jason’s talking to this guy in a suit. The guy has an umbrella open over his head, but Jason’s standing in the cold rain that’s falling like razorblades on my face, stinging.

“Jason! Hey!” I call out, striding toward them, pissing mad.

Again.

The man with the umbrella turns toward me. He’s middle-aged, with a goatee, and that reminds me of Gary and the fact I never returned his calls and text messages after I ran out on him in that restaurant.

The thought isn’t enough to make me slow down my stride. “Get away from him.”

“Goddamn you, Raine.” Jason is glaring at me. The look is kind of ruined by his blue lips and the way he’s hunched over as if in pain. Probably freezing to death, and that thought gets me angrier still. “Scram.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” He licks rain off his lips, and damn if that small thing doesn’t get my dick hard. “Fuck the hell off.”

I’ve reached the two of them by now, and I put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

“Dammit, Raine, what part of NO don’t you get?” He’s beautiful in the rain, face pale, dark eyes brilliant, clothes molding to his strong body.

“Who the hell are you?” Goatee Guy asks, all dry and comfy under his umbrella. “Hooker here told you to fuck off.”

I run a hand over my face, flicking off rainwater. “Hooker has a name, you motherfucking—”

“Raine, shut up.” Jason elbows me in the ribs, his eyes on me—wide, dark and beautiful. “What are you doing?”

“He has no fucking right to treat you like that.” I grip his arm until my knuckles turn white. “Bastard. Paying to have his tiny dick sucked, and careful not to get his expensive suit wet.”

“What’s this, you’re fighting with your fucking boyfriend?” Through the rain, I catch a look of disgust flash over Goatee Guy’s face. “I have no time for this.”

“You arrogant motherfucker.” I start toward him, my hand curling into a fist as I lift it, itching to shove it into his face. “This a game to you?”

“Raine!” Jason grabs me around the waist, and I shouldn’t like so much his arms around me, even through the haze of my anger. “Stop.”

“You’re jealous.” The guy sneers, although he takes a cautious step back and his beady eyes flicker with fear. “And you’re crazy. This is his job, man.”

“Fuck you!”

“God, enough!” Jason is still holding me back.

“Whatever.” Goatee Guy tsks, then turns around and leaves, his gray bulk vanishing in the rain that’s getting stronger by the minute.

Jason lets go of me, and I stagger, panting and wiping water from my eyes. “What was that?” he demands.

“What was what?”

“You, going all Terminator on me. Why are you even here?”

“To pay you for last night.” I straighten, push my wet hair off my face, half-blinded by the stinging raindrops. “And see if you’re okay.”

“Okay? Okay?” He gets into my face and stabs a finger into my chest, and God, he’s hot when he’s angry. “You chase away my customers. That guy? I’d have gotten at least fifty bucks out of him, and now he’s fucking gone.” He shakes his head. “Fucking shit.”

“Hey, I just wanted to look out for you—”

“Goddammit, Raine, you need to stop this.” He scrubs both hands over his face and turns away. “I need the customers, and the money. I can’t afford to be picky.”

“Screw that.” I’m still shaking with adrenaline. “Take me.”

“What?” He turns back around slowly, brows arching.

“Take me. Instead of that asshole.”

His eyes are wide. “Jesus, Raine. Your brother will have my ass for this.”

“My brother doesn’t know, and in any case, it’s none of his fucking business what I do with my time or the money I earn.”

Except it would be nice to help him with his growing family, after he lost all his savings on our parents’ scam, and with said parents returning and asking for more…

“You serious?” He’s staring at me.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” I walk him back until he hits the wall, the rain sluicing over us, and I kiss him. His lips are cold, his body tense. I slide my hand around the back of his head and pry his lips open with my tongue.

He shudders, clamps his hands on my forearms so hard I bet he’s leaving bruises, groans—then starts kissing me back, with tongue and teeth.

By the time we break apart, panting, his lips are reddened, his cheeks flushed, his eyes much more alive than they were before.

He’s so damn beautiful.

And mine.

“Let’s get out of this cold,” I say and drag him to my truck before I can examine that crazy thought more closely and decide I’m ready for the psych ward.