Chapter 5
Wes
It’s later in the day than I usually run, but I’m agitated as hell. I’m so tired of Jett misnaming me. What the fuck did I ever do to the guy? Nothing. I’ve been nothing but friendly, and he shits on it.
God, why did I show him my book? Reading romance novels is a secret even Dennis doesn’t know about. I don’t care really, except I don’t want to hear all the teasing he’ll cast my way.
My feet hit the dusty trail through the woods close to home. It’s not overly hot, but the sun is high, making me sweat underneath my baseball cap.
I don’t run for long, slowing to a walk as I try to control my breathing. The run didn’t help at all. I don’t understand why I’m so annoyed. Why do I even give a shit? Usually, I brush people off and don’t let them get to me.
There’s only one reason for my reaction. I worshiped Jett, and he ruined it. I tried to be fucking nice, but no… Not everyone has to like you, Wes. Get over it. No, they don’t have to like me, but they don’t need to be dicks either.
I remove my cap, rub the sweat off my forehead with my forearm, and jog home.
Jett’s confusing as fuck. I thought things had changed between us when I handed him his letter.
For a moment, he seemed tender, holding it lovingly.
Then, in the elevator, we joked a little before he went all asshole on me again.
I’m so over this hot-and-cold routine. I’m not a doormat.
We’re co-workers… sort of. If we’re going to be seeing more of each other, we need some damn ground rules and boundaries.
I make it back to the condo and step into the elevator. Instead of heading up to my floor to get back to my book, I stop at the twelfth floor and step out. It’s time to have a word with Jared ‘Jett’ Cordier.
I walk along the corridor until I find number 1217. With a deep breath, I pound on the door, then step back.
My arms are folded across my chest, and I tap my foot while I wait. There’s no answer, so I knock again.
The thought of him not being home deflates me a little, but then the door whooshes open, and I’m hit with the intoxicating scent of vanilla, almonds, and amber. Jett’s shirtless, exposing smooth skin and defined muscles, all glittering with droplets of water.
Surprise moves across his face, his dark eyes scanning me up and down. He takes a step back, frowning. “What do you want, Wilson?”
I tap into my growing frustration and step up to him. I poke at his insanely solid chest. “You know what? I’m sick of you misnaming me.” I scoff and fold my arms again. “And to think I used to look up to you. What a fucking disappointment.”
He tenses, his jaw clenching, but instead of clapping back, he just stares at me. Then something dark and angry flashes in his eyes.
Before I can register what’s happening, Jett fists my shirt, yanks me into his condo, and slams me against the wall. He presses his forearm against my throat. Not hard enough to choke me, only to control. I claw at his arm, but fuck, he’s strong.
“What the hell? Get the fuck off!”
His nostrils flare, his mouth pressed into a razor-sharp line, and his eyes pin hard on me. He has no right to be pissed! I’m not the one who’s been a dick since we met. He’s breathing heavily. I’m breathing heavily. We’re having a staredown, and it’s getting on my goddamn nerves.
It’s hard not to focus on his scent filling my nose, or the unfamiliar pressure of a male body against mine.
I shove back against him. “I’m not someone you can just push around, Jared. Let me the fuck go!”
He doesn’t budge even a millimeter. His eyes drop to my mouth, and his arm lessens its hold. “I’m… you’re right. I’m a fucking disappointment.”
My brows shoot to my hairline at his unexpected response and change of course, which is soon followed by regret.
“Jett, I…”
His eyes flicker across my face as he leans back into me, his rock-hard body pressed against mine. He’s broader and denser than I am. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning over my face. “I am.”
When his eyes meet mine again, they’re watery. Something shifts between us, like electricity crackling in the air. Fire burns in his ebony eyes. I’ve dated enough women to recognize the heated look. Before I can react, it’s gone. It happened so fast, I’m doubting what I saw.
My fingers dig into his forearm as he continues to press it hard against my throat. “No matter what I am, take a look at you,” he grits. “Mr. Perfect. Mr. Every Girl Wants Me. Mr. I’m Always Fucking Happy. Mr. Pretty Boy.”
I try to shove him off again, but he tightens against me. “Hey, I can’t help how I look.”
“I wish you could.”
My jaw drops as more anger is about to explode from me. Right when my heart threatens to punch out of my chest, Jett abruptly lets go and grips my face with his hands. A breath. A flash. A fraction of a second. That’s all it takes before his mouth is on mine.
His hand travels up my neck and into my hair, knocking off my hat. He tilts his head as he deepens the kiss.
I have no idea what the fuck is going on, and my body is just as confused. My cock is reacting to his closeness and his lips. What the hell?
No, I need him to get the fuck off me. With newfound strength, I shove him off and sever our kiss.
Is this just another move to humiliate me?
I slam my hands against his chest to get him to back the fuck up. When he finally gets off, I glare and point at him. “What the hell! You had no fucking right!”
I need to get out of here, but when I turn away, Jett reaches for my arm. I shrug him off and storm out of his condo.
“Wes… wait!”
“Oh, sure! Now you get my name right. Asshole,” I yell when I’m halfway down the hall.
The elevator doors open, and I rush inside. Jett quickly heads my way with a look of confusion or guilt, perhaps. I’m too irritated to care. I press the door-close button before he reaches me.
The elevator stops at the eleventh floor, and I make my way toward my condo, desperately trying to ignore the lingering tingles on my lips or how my body responded to him.
“What the fuck was that?” I say out loud as I unlock my door and let it slam behind me.
I reach for my hat to take it off, but it’s gone. Shit. Well, I’m not fucking going back for it. I yank off my T-shirt and toss it in the basket because it smells like him.
I don’t know what fucking game he’s playing at, but I’m not going to bite. I’m not into dudes, so he can forget it.
Before I hit the shower, I sit down at my desk in the living room, open the file drawer, and pull out the book that I’ve had since I was thirteen.
I open it and slowly flip through the pages of all the articles, pictures, and stats I’ve kept on Jared ‘Jett’ Cordier.
Some of the pictures are mine from his early track meets when I was a na?ve teen.
They go all the way back to when he was at the Olympic ceremony in Paris.
There’s one image of him holding a torch for the US team.
I only have a few news stories about his whereabouts and speculations.
Then it was radio silent until I ran into him at the bar.
Whatever happened, they kept it out of the media.
I’ve always loved running, but Jett was the reason I trained so hard and took it seriously.
I’m all about long-distance running and marathons.
I was built for endurance over speed. Jett was built for speed with those thick thighs and calves.
But he has endurance, too. He could do it all if he wanted. He’s that talented.
I slam the book shut and stare at the leather cover as I debate whether to throw it out.
I should’ve been fan-girling when we first met. We should’ve been talking shop. Most importantly, I want to know what happened to him. What turned him into this bitter asshole? Or was he always a dick?
I close my eyes and stroke my fingers along my mouth. The touch brings back the ghost sensation of his demanding lips, and I can still taste and smell him.
“Fuck it.”
I shove the book back into the drawer and head to the bathroom for a shower.
I need to get out of here and have a beer.
When I open my front door, a green and yellow Ducks hat falls to the ground. I pick it up, dust it off, and toss it onto the couch before leaving. Jett returned my hat. Big fucking deal. It doesn’t suddenly make him a nice guy.
The bar is still quiet, but it’s quickly filling up with mostly college students.
I sit at the counter and order a beer. After chugging it back, I order another. God, I can’t shake off Jett and that kiss. I have no idea what to make of it. Is he attracted to me? I mean, he doesn’t act like he is. Was it to humiliate me?
“Wes Ellison?”
I turn to Jenny’s soft voice, the student I treated the other day.
“Oh, hey Jenny.”
She sits next to me and orders a beer, too.
“How’s your foot?” Ugh, the last thing I want to be doing is working, but I want to be polite.
“Oh, it’s fine. Better.” She tucks some blonde strands behind her ear and bats her eyelashes at me. Usually, I love being hit on by a pretty woman. Unfortunately, she’s not only off-limits, but I’m also not in the mood.
“Good. Good.”
I sip my beer and pin my eyes on the TV over the bar. The Baylor Bears are playing football against the Kansas Jayhawks. There’s no score on the board yet.
“I got my scans, so now I can set up some appointments with you. I’m sure you’ll be getting me running in no time.”
A hand rubs along my shoulder, and I look at Jenny, begging me with her eyes to accept whatever this is. I gently take her hand and rest it on the counter. What’s up with people pushing their boundaries on me today?
“You should rest your foot if you want to run again.”
She smiles, gnaws on her bottom lip, and tilts her head. “Look, I’m gonna be bold and—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there. I’m a physical therapist at the university. You are a university student. That is all. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’ll set you up with someone who’ll help you better than I can.”