“…and then I fucked a bunny with three tits dressed in a pink tutu,” Shane finishes and jabs a finger into my chest, hard. “What do you think, was that a good idea?”

“What?” I rub at my chest. I’m sure that jab will leave a bruise. “What are you talking about?”

“You tell me.” He glares daggers at me, and I’m glad the reception desk is between us. Shane is pretty scary when he’s pissed. “You’ve been,” he twirls a finger by his ear, “totally out of it for the past ten fucking minutes.”

“You timed him this time?” Seth, Shane’s half-brother, slaps him on the back and leans over the desk to look at the computer screen. “Who do I have next, R? Ah, I see it. Got it.”

“He keeps spacing out, right, Seffers?” Shane asks Seth as if I’m not right here. “That’s fucking love, right there.”

Seth laughs. “Spill, R. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Shut up, the both of you,” I snark and pretend to be checking the schedule on the screen.

These two may be half-brothers, but to me they look like twins. Dark and tall, with soft black hair and chocolate eyes, they’re hot. Straight as an arrow of course, which I know for a fact, and good friends, but that’s not the only reason they don’t stir anything in me.

Jason.

The days have passed in a blur of work and meetings about Soul Stain’s visit, but the nights… I’m pretty sure I’m getting carpal syndrome from jerking off every night to the memory of Jason.

Jason standing in my apartment, looking dangerous and sexy.

Jason taking his tank top off.

Jason on his knees.

Jason going down on me.

Jesus fuck.

“So what happened with that bunny?” Seth grabs Shane around the shoulders and tosses a wink my way before steering his half-brother back to his booth. “You sure you weren’t the one wearing the pink tutu?”

I shake my head and sigh. Idiots. Also, it’s not true I keep spacing out.

Is it?

Pushing back from the computer, I look up when the doorbell dings and a customer enters. A pretty blonde who smiles at me and… I know her.

Okay, it’s not a customer, it’s Shane’s girl, Cassie.

“Hey, R.” She waves at me, her gaze already flicking in the direction of Shane’s booth. “Is my favorite boy with a customer or free? Can you please check your super-duper planner?”

“And if he’s free?” I arch a brow at her. “What’s up?”

A quick shrug. “I just want to say hi. Didn’t get to see him this morning.”

That’s all? Frowning, I wave her toward the booth. “He’s free.”

I lean over the desk as she skips in the indicated direction, and I see Shane come out to meet her. He has this huge grin splitting his face in two, and he grabs her in his arms and swings her around.

“Missed you, baby,” she says, and then they’re kissing.

No special occasion. It’s not the first time one of the girls comes in to see one of the Damage Boyz. Or that one of the boyz goes out of his way to buy his girl something nice, or take her out to dinner.

It’s like… like they can’t be apart for more than a few hours before missing each other so much they can’t stand it. I don’t really get it.

When Ocean sent me away, I missed him like hell. When Livvy died, well… I rub at my chest, at the phantom pain there, over the fabric that’s hiding a scar on my skin, and in my heart. She was my best friend at the trailer park when I was a kid. We got crazy one day, stole a car and drove as fast as we could—like my brother would do in illegal street races, to get money for us.

We crashed, Livvy died, and I… Yeah, I still miss her. And although Ocean still blames himself for it, I don’t.

Point is… How do you miss someone you’ve only just seen? As if you can’t live without them for five minutes. As if you can’t breathe.

Jesus.

It’s ridiculous. Totally stupid. And the way Shane is holding her… like he wants to meld with her. She’s kissing him like she can’t stop. They’re so… in love. So in need of one another.

They seem so fucking happy.

And it has nothing to do with me, so I don’t know what this hollow pit in my stomach is, and why an image of Jason flashes through my mind like a spark.

Nothing to do with me at all.

It also doesn’t explain why I pass every night by the street where I know Jason hangs out. Working. Picking up customers.

I wish I could say it doesn’t bother me. That I understand why. Why not do something, anything else for a living? Does he want this?

Shouldn’t he be trying harder to get out of that rut?

I know Ocean has talked to him about it. Jesse too. I sort of eavesdropped on a couple of their discussions, and I know they’re also wondering why he won’t take them up on their offers to help him get out.

It’s as if he doesn’t want to.

He’s a grown-up, I remind myself. What he does or doesn’t do is his own damn business. Certainly not mine.

And there’s no reason for me to drive around the block and roll through the street—his street—again. What am I doing? He isn’t here, which means he’s with a customer. Or at home. It’s just that…

That I haven’t seen him in the past couple of days. Here, I mean. When I drive by. Not that I came looking for him or anything.

Not that I expected a repeat of what happened last time.

Fuck, no.

I mean, so what if I did? I could pay again. Everyone else is.

No, no, Jesus. It’s not the first time I think about this, and it’s driving me crazy. I won’t be just a customer. Jason’s customer. A job.

Then what do you want? I ask myself, and predictably I get no answer.

I should just go home, eat something, get some sleep. It’s the stress of this upcoming event, I decide, that’s making me antsy.

And of course, right when I make the decision and turn around once more to head home, I see him.

He’s talking with a tall guy in a suit, or rather the guy is talking to him, and backing him into the brick wall of the building.

Jason shakes his head, shoves at the guy.

The guy doesn’t move.

Red mist descends over my vision. Without realizing, I find myself braking and stopping the pick-up, climbing out and marching over to them.

To him.

Jason doesn’t notice me until I’ve shoved the man to the side and out of my way. “No,” I say.

Jason blinks at me, and his face pales. “Raine?”

“No, you’re not going with him.”

Now his brows draw together and he glowers at me. “Really? Fuck you, Raine.”

“That’s the idea,” I mutter, and shove again at the guy who’s cursing at me. “You stay out of this.”

“I talked to him first!” the guy splutters. He’s tall with glasses and really bad taste in clothes. I mean, even I can tell. “You can’t just butt in.”

I ignore him, meet Jason’s glare. “I’ll pay, dammit. I’ll pay for one night with you. Tell me how much.”

He swallows hard, and I watch the knot move in his throat. A light stubble shadows his jaw, as if he didn’t shave this morning. His dark eyes are brilliant in the neon street lights, and his mouth…

Fuck, I can’t stop looking at it, imagining it on my dick, on my chest, on my throat. On my lips. I’m standing so close, I can hear him breathing hard, I can see the flush on his cheeks. I can smell him, and it makes my own mouth water.

“Goddammit,” he whispers, and glances from the balding guy back to me. “You mean it.”

It’s not a question, but I reply anyway. “Yeah.”

For some reason I can’t quite explain, I do. I’m not letting this ugly bastard, or anyone else, fuck Jason.

Sinners burn in hell. Aunt Martha’s words echo in my head, a soundtrack to all the filthy things my fantasy enacts with Jason. You will burn in hell.

Dammit. This is hell already.

His eyes are wide, darker than ever, so dark and deep they’re swallowing me, losing me in a maze unlike any other. “Fine, then. Where?”

“My place,” I say and reaching down, I take his hand and tug. “Come on.”

Jason mutters something that might be a curse and follows me, his hand hot against my palm, his long fingers clasping mine in a strong grip.

I don’t even glance at the other guy as I lead Jason away to my truck. For tonight at least, he’s mine.