6. Chapter 6
six
~ Beckett ~
A nother warehouse.
Another party. And this one was so wildly out of Jasper’s comfort zone, I couldn’t help but think he had been blackmailed into accepting the invitation.
The more realistic explanation was that there had been a series of unfortunate misunderstandings.
I imagined he had read “Blacklight Paint Party” and envisioned curated wine samplings and tulips in neon acrylics.
Because it seemed highly unreasonable to assume he’d agreed to attend a rave on purpose.
It had been three days since he’d wrecked me with that kiss in his office, and while we had exchanged a few texts, I hadn’t seen him since then.
Largely because our schedules hadn’t aligned, but I’d also kept my distance to give him time to process what had happened.
A part of me, however, worried that he had spent every second spiraling instead.
When we had said our goodbyes that evening, there had been the typical tension, the expected awkwardness, but nothing to suggest that he regretted the shared moment.
Left alone with his thoughts, however, I wondered if that had changed while we’d been apart.
We had planned to meet at the event, but I had been waiting outside the warehouse for nearly half an hour with no sign of Jasper Ryan.
It wasn’t like him to be late, and he would rather sacrifice his soul than ghost anyone.
Even if he had decided the kiss had been a terrible idea, and we should never see each other again, he wouldn’t stand me up.
Translation? I was worried.
Any number of things could be at fault.
Traffic. A flat tire.
He’d gotten lost. Something had come up at the center that required his attention.
Logic and emotions rarely acted in concert, though, especially when I knew that none of those things would have stopped him from calling me.
Another five minutes passed.
Then ten. At the twenty-minute mark, I had crossed the line from disaster fanfic into borderline panic.
So, when he jogged around the corner—eyes wide, hair messy, white shirt stained with what looked like dried blood—I didn’t even think.
I didn’t stop to worry about boundaries.
I strode over and dragged him into my arms, crushing him against my chest as if my embrace alone could protect him from the world.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his words rushed, his voice tight and breathless.
He didn’t pull away, though.
Instead, he melted against me, his grip tight and desperate.
“There was an accident. But I left my phone at home, so I couldn’t call you, and I don’t…I don’t…”
“Easy. Easy.” I leaned back just far enough to stroke his hair, taming some of the frizz from his curls.
“Take a breath, Jazz. Start from the beginning.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath.
By the third repetition, his eyelids fluttered open, and he appeared slightly more composed.
“Traffic was terrible, and I was already running late. I parked in a public lot a couple of blocks from here.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction he had come from.
I glanced at the valet podium near the entrance of the warehouse, but I didn’t interrupt.
“This guy jogged by, and I noticed his face was red, and he looked kind of miserable, but I didn’t think much of it. It’s hot, and I figured maybe he was new to exercise.”
“I’m following.” And I had a decent idea where the story was headed.
“He collapsed. Just went down right in front of me. He was breathing, and his pulse was fast but steady. I didn’t have my phone to call anyone, though.” A frown tugged at his lips as if this had been a personal failure on his part.
“Thankfully, someone else pulled into the parking lot then, and they called emergency services.”
“Is he okay?”
Jasper bobbed his head.
“He was conscious by the time EMTs arrived, and more embarrassed than anything else.”
The knot in my chest loosened, and I breathed a little easier.
“The blood?” I asked, pointing to the dried smears on his shirt.
“What happened there?”
“He got kind of scraped up when he fell. Abrasions on his arms and a shallow gash on his forehead.” He held his hands up to show they were also stained red.
“I couldn’t stop the bleeding, but I kept pressure on it until the paramedics could take over.”
“So, you’re late because you were busy being a hero?”
“What?” His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head quickly.
“No. I just happened to be there. Anyone would have done the same.”
How classically Jasper.
Both endearing and exasperating in the same breath.
“No, they wouldn’t have. And it might not have been life or death, but you were definitely a hero.” Grabbing him by the wrist, I dragged him back into my arms, more for my benefit than his.
He still didn’t resist. “What about you? Are you okay?”
He remained quiet for a long time, but eventually, he nodded against my shoulder.
“A little frazzled, but I’m okay.”
My chest squeezed, and my throat tightened.
He hadn’t deflected or tried to minimize what he felt.
Instead, he had acknowledged it, but with the caveat that, in this instance, it was manageable.
“What do you need now?” I released him again so I could see his expression, searching his eyes for the truth.
He didn’t always give the full story, but those amber eyes never lied.
“We don’t have to stay.”
“No, I’m okay.” His mouth stretched into a smile, and though a little tight at the corners, it appeared genuine.
“I want to stay.” He held his hands out, palms up, and glanced down at his stained top.
“But maybe it’s not a good idea.”
“Okay, we’ll stay, but you’re going to have to lose the shirt.” I doubted anyone would notice the blood once we made it inside, but he was definitely overdressed for the occasion.
His brow creased, but he didn’t argue.
Unbuttoning it halfway down, he stripped it off over his head, revealing the fitted white V-neck underneath.
Then he used the fabric to try to clean some of the blood from his hands, but it would take a lot more than a bit of cotton to get the job done.
He looked physically pained when I took the shirt from him and dropped it into a nearby receptacle.
I don’t know what he expected us to do with it, but the idea of simply discarding it clearly made him uneasy.
If it meant that much, I’d buy him a new one, but I wasn’t going to carry it around all night like a trauma blanket.
“Ready?”
In response, he pulled an elastic band from the pocket of his trousers but hesitated before securing his hair with it.
A moment later, he held the tie out to me and adopted an apologetic grin.
“Do you mind? My hands are kind of gross.”
I didn’t mind, and I also knew how much it had taken for him to ask for help.
So, this time, I didn’t tease.
Taking the band, I stepped behind him, gathered his hair into a low ponytail, and secured it at his nape.
Before backing away, I dipped my head and brushed a kiss across the top of his shoulder.
He shivered visibly, and goosebumps erupted across his skin, but he didn’t comment.
And he didn’t run.
“Ready now?” I asked.
He took a deep breath and nodded.
“Ready.”
Music pounded from inside the warehouse, the noise muffled but unmistakable.
Purple light glowed from the industrial windows set high on the side of the building, accompanied by rhythmic strobes of blue and pink.
If Jasper hadn’t known before, he surely must have figured it out by now.
Still, as we approached the entrance, I had to ask.
“Do you know what this event is?”
A resigned sigh spilled from his mouth.
“I’m aware.”
“And you’re sure you want to do this?”
He gave me a weak grin and lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug.
“I’m a proud sponsor of the performing arts center.”
I chuckled and shook my head.
Of course he was. And naturally, he felt an obligation to participate because of that.
Most people just signed checks.
Jasper showed up with cash and emotional support.
That facade, however, crumbled the moment we stepped through the doors.
His spine stiffened, his jaw clenched, and his shoulders crept toward his ears.
His lips pressed into a thin line, even as his eyes rounded to near cartoonish proportions.
I was witnessing the consequences of his decisions unravel in real time, and I didn’t know whether to rescue him or simply revel in the abject chaos that was about to ensue.
Electronic dance music blasted from the sound system at maximum volume.
The typical fluorescent bulbs had been replaced with UV counterparts, and a few extra fixtures had been added over the dance floor.
At a quick glance, I spotted plenty of twenty-somethings, but almost as many men and women my age and older.
Most were half dressed, and all of them sported glowing neon paint somewhere on their body.
“I have made a terrible mistake.”
Jasper had to yell to be heard over the din, but it didn’t diminish the punchline, and I barked out a sharp, surprised laugh.
“Too late now,” I answered.
“Come on, let’s get you suited up.”
He jerked around to face me, the purple glow reflected in his wide eyes.
“What does that mean?”
I pointed toward a paint station and arched an eyebrow.
“No.” Jasper shook his head.
“Absolutely not.”
Chuckling, I took his hand and pulled him toward the table lined with a rainbow of paints.
“You can wash your hands,” I said, referring to the portable sink that had been set up beside the table.
“Besides, it’s part of the experience.”
“Believe me, I’m experiencing it.”
I loved this unfiltered side of him, and I hoped to see more of it in the future.
That didn’t mean I was going to let him off the hook, though.
I waited patiently while he washed the aftermath of the accident from his hands, but I refused to let him hide behind his excuses.
“Okay, strip.”
He jerked back, a look of pure indignation on his face.
“Excuse me?”
Still laughing, I reached for one of the fluffy brushes and a tub of glowing pink paint.
“Shirt off. Let’s go. Chop, chop.”
“If you want to see me naked, you could just say so,” he quipped, resting his hands on his hips.
I smirked in challenge.
“I want to see you naked.”
There had been stories of spontaneous human combustion floating around for practically ever.
I had always kind of assumed they were bullshit.
Until now. Until I witnessed it with my own eyes.
“Breathe.” With his eyes bulging and his mouth working soundlessly, I feared he might have a stroke right there on the spot.
“I’m asking you to take off your shirt, not give me a public lap dance.”
He shook his head.
“Jazz, take off your shirt.”
“ You take off your shirt,” he countered with all the maturity of a preschooler.
Hmm, I liked this. I liked him flustered and a little off-balance.
I didn’t want to push him too far, but if he still had some fight in him, we hadn’t reached the edge of no-return yet.
“Fine.” Putting the paint supplies down on the table, I grabbed the collar of my basic black tee at the nape and tugged it off over my head.
“Better?” I asked, tossing it at him.
“Happy now?”
He caught the shirt, his fingers digging into the material as his gaze raked me from shoulders to hips.
“Very.”
He spoke softly, dazedly, as if that single word had escaped without his permission.
Which, honestly, made it even better.
“Your turn.”
When he still hesitated, his eyes darting around the room like a scared rabbit, I decided maybe this was too big of an ask.
I wanted him to have fun, not burst into flames.
“It’s fine.” I reached for the paint again.
“Let’s just do your face.”
I had been prepared for relief.
Maybe a hint of guilt.
I had not, however, expected defiance.
Dropping my shirt to the floor, he stripped his own top off and added it to the pile, holding eye contact the entire time.
And suddenly, I was the one who needed a reminder to breathe.
Not only had I seen what spontaneous combustion looked like, but now, I had firsthand experience of how it felt.
The temperature rose at least ten degrees, and perspiration beaded across my brow.
Tracing the lean lines of his torso with my gaze, my mouth turned arid and sticky.
Hard and compact, his stomach flexed, the lights casting shadows across the grooves of his abs, causing every hard brick of muscle to stand out in sharp relief.
My nostrils flared as I struggled to pull in enough oxygen without making it obvious, but there was no hiding the rigid line behind the zipper of my jeans.
“Well?” he asked, though some of his bravado had faded now.
“Are you going to paint me or what?”
I started at his collarbones, keeping every stroke light and teasing as I dragged the brush over his chest and down his abdomen.
This close, I couldn’t miss the way he trembled, or the way his breath caught as I moved around him.
After adding a few stripes of paint to his shoulders and back, I put the brush aside and dipped two fingers into the tub.
Then I swiped them across his cheeks and along his jawline, hoping he’d feel more confident with a mask on, even a temporary one.
“There. Now you look the part.”
He stared down at the colorful marks for a long time before nodding.
“Okay, your turn,” he said, echoing my earlier words as he reached for the art supplies.
“Hmm, what to do?”
He circled me, eyeing me like a rough canvas.
When he came to a stop at my back, I expected to feel the wet bristles of a brush.
Instead, his hands pressed against my skin, cold from the paint, but that did nothing to lower my internal temperature.
Over and over, he painted his palm, then pressed it to my body, covering my torso in a kaleidoscope of neon handprints.
When I thought he had finished, he stepped in front of me and left one more mark, right over my cheek.
“That’s better,” he announced before returning the materials to the table.
“Much better.”
Maybe I was reading too much into it, but something told me this hadn’t been a simple art project.
Hell, I wouldn’t even call it foreplay.
It felt like I had just been claimed.
“What do you want to do now, Mr. Shaw?”
I don’t know why I liked it so much when he called me that.
Honestly, it should have felt distancing and impersonal, and as such, annoyed me.
Not the way Jasper said it, though.
Not the way his lips wrapped around it like an embrace.
Grabbing two shot glasses of neon blue liquid from the tray of a passing server, I handed one to Jasper while I tossed back the other one.
Vodka. And not even the good stuff.
“Don’t drink that.”
I tried to take the plastic cup from him, but he stepped out of reach and downed the contents.
Then…instant regret.
His lips pulled back, his eyes squeezed closed, and he gave a full body shudder.
“I warned you.” But I still winced in sympathy.
“Ready?”
“For what?”
“Let’s dance.”
He didn’t look thrilled, but he also didn’t fight me, allowing me to drag him out onto the dance floor.
We found a bit of open space amidst the throng of gyrating bodies, and when another partygoer bumped Jasper from behind, I pulled him close.
I couldn’t hold back my groan when his bare chest pressed against mine, and I suddenly found myself obsessed with his pouty lips, unable to drag my gaze away.
Fuck, everything about him was perfect, a beautiful mixture of contradictions.
A hard body and a shy smile.
Big, wide eyes that still managed to look soft and alluring.
Nervous and unsure, but still showing up.
Insecure, but still trying so damn hard.
With one arm locked around his waist, I began to sway, not to the beat of the music, but a gentle tempo meant to ease him into it.
In return, he wound his arms around my neck and matched my rhythm, our bodies moving as one.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I blurted.
Jasper tilted his head and grinned.
“Apparently, spending the day with you. What did you have in mind?”
Nothing.
I had no plan whatsoever.
The question had been spontaneous, born from the desire to be close to him, and I had voiced it without thought.
“It’s a surprise. Come by my place in the morning?”
Jasper hesitated, his soulful eyes searching me for…
something. Whatever he’d been looking for, he must have found it because he smiled again and dipped his head. “I’ll be there.”