Chapter Forty
Delilah
“Breakfast,” a guard yells, sounding offended we dared to sleep.
I jolt upright on the sad excuse for a bed, neck screaming. Somehow, I passed out to the ambient sounds of a woman a few cells down passionately declaring she was the reincarnation of Venus and legally allowed to walk naked through suburbia. I respect her commitment to the bit.
Destiny, my new jail wife, or possibly spirit guide, stares at me with the kind of look that makes me feel like I’ve been marked for something. Enlightenment. Murder. A surprisingly transformative pyramid scheme. Hard to say.
The guard shoves a tray at me like I’ve committed a crime against breakfast too. I glare at the food, willing it to be at least as appetizing as a motel waffle someone sat on. It’s not. The eggs look like they lost a bet.
“You don’t want that?” Destiny asks, already eyeing it like it’s a charcuterie board.
“Be my guest,” I say, handing it over. “Bon appétit.”
But I’m not thinking about food. I’m thinking about my one phone call. It should be Benji. Sweet, perfect Benji, who gave me orgasm permission slips. But Rhys did say I could call if it was an emergency. Is this an emergency? Is jail an emergency or just Friday with extra spice?
Destiny stirs her coffee like it’s a potion.
I glance at mine. It’s brown. And sad.
Then, without breaking eye contact, she hocks a loogie into hers and grins.
“Gonna be a good week,” she says. “I’m finding love. Gonna get out, get laid, get married. Probably in that order.”
I stare. “You saw that… in your spit coffee?”
“Mmhmm.” She points. “It’s all there. You gotta activate it.”
“By spitting in it?”
She nods solemnly like this is sacred ancient knowledge passed down through generations of horny prophets.
So I shrug and spit in mine. Why not. I’m already in jail and I’ve definitely done worse things with bodily fluids.
I peer into the cup. “Still just brown.”
Destiny snatches it, swishes the contents like she’s reading tea leaves from Satan’s thermos, then cackles. “You’re gonna fall in love.”
My expression doesn’t move. But internally, the soulmate sirens are going off. “I am in love.”
“No,” she says. “Three times.”
My nipples harden on instinct. Because that’s them, my men right there in my spit coffee. “That’s either the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me, or a medical warning.”
She gives me this look like I’ve just passed a test. “It won’t be easy. Gonna be some blood. Maybe some biting. But if you don’t chicken out and you go full feral? You’ll get ‘em all.”
“Oh, baby,” I say. “I’ve never chickened out. There’s court documentation.”
“Hell yeah,” she laughs. “Can I invite you to my wedding? I got no friends.”
“Bitch, we are bonded for life in fated bean juice now,” I say, and rattle off my number.
She carves the digits into her arm with a broken nail. We’ve probably just made a blood pact under a full moon.
I clutch my spit coffee. My fate is sealed. Destiny said so. And Destiny doesn’t fuck around.
“Miss Darling, you’ve been bailed out,” the guard grunts sounding shocked that someone wants me free.
I give Destiny a look through the bars. “Hey. You can really call me, okay? For the wedding. Or the apocalypse. Whichever hits first.”
She salutes me with her coffee. I hope I get to be a bridesmaid in something slutty and cursed.
They march me to a desk and shove paperwork at me. I sign it with the smug flourish of someone who didn’t learn a single lesson. They return my things in a plastic bag, including my underwear, folded. Is that a message or a kink I haven’t unlocked yet?
Then it’s into the changing room where I scrub myself back into something vaguely human. Something worthy of kissing whichever man is on the other side of those doors. Benji? Rhys? Are they here to pick me up? Will they help get Jett out too?
The second I step into the lobby, the question explodes into glitter and orgasm fog.
Because it’s him.
Jett fucking Ryker.
All my tension evaporates. The grossness of jail peels off me. There he is: bruised, brooding, and looking like every mistake I want to make in the next 48 hours. His jeans cling to those thighs like they’ve filed for co-dependency. The cut on his cheek has scabbed.
He looks at me. Really looks. Eyes slow, lingering, dark, thinking filthy things he plans to say later. “You ready to go home, princess?”
Did he just? Does this mean he forgives me? I don’t ask. I don’t breathe. I just move.
I launch across the lobby like a heat-seeking missile for bad decisions. Jett catches me mid-air. I wrap my legs around him, lock my ankles behind his back. His hand cups my ass. The other buries in my hair and yanks, hard enough to make me gasp.
He drags my mouth open and devours me. Not kisses, claims. I moan into him like a girl getting publicly rawed by forgiveness.
The desk lady clears her throat.
Some guy getting dragged in by cuffs lets out a low whistle.
I grin against Jett’s mouth, shameless and soaked. “I left my car at therapy.”
He bites my bottom lip. “You can ride me instead.”
Fucking hell.
He doesn’t mean it as a joke. And my pussy is already pulling out her helmet and a GoPro.
I follow him to the bike, and he pats a small pad behind his seat. That’s new. For me?
He kicks out the pegs like it’s no big deal. My legs might not even reach, but I’d sooner die than let physics cockblock me now.
When he tosses me a helmet, I almost lose it. It’s black, all sleek and tiny, and there’s pink glitter swarming over it. And a tiny crown. A fucking crown. My throat tightens like he just handed me a proposal ring instead.
I just stare at it. I might actually start crying. “You. For me. After what happened?”
“You’re mine, Delilah. I’ll figure out what the hell that means. Just be patient.” His tone is a potent mix of ownership and promise.
Patient? I’m one breath away from letting him wreck my spine.
He grabs my things and shoves them in the saddlebag.
My focus is entirely on him. The warmth of his body, the thickness of his shoulders, the scent of that deep musk that’s all Jett. I fight the urge to crawl all over him right here. Patience? Never met her.
“Hell yeah, that’s what the P stands for. Delilah Patient Darling,” I say, hopping onto the bike behind him. My hands grip the leather of his jacket. I’m gonna fuck the alphabet out of him.
He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Nah. P’s for princess. Mine.”
My god, this man is fucking dangerous. I don’t even know what kind of territory I’m getting into anymore.
All I know is I’m more than ready to lay claim to every inch of him.
I press against his back, my chest flat to his spine, arms tightening around his waist as the bike roars to life.
My lips are a hair away from his neck, biting back the needy, filthy words that want to spill out.
The world recedes into a blur of motion and heat as we ride off together. Just me, him, and the deviant little promise vibrating between my thighs.
When we pull into the lot where my car sits, I steal a glance back at the building, just a fleeting look.
“Go see him,” Jett says, his voice rough. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Go see him?” I echo. Is he trying to fuck with me. “You serious? What the hell happened?”
“It’s weird as fuck, but he’s worried. Let him see you’re not dead. I’ll be here. Gimme your keys,” he says, locking those intense eyes on mine. “I’ll load your shit.”
I hand him the keys, feeling that magnetic pull between us. My fingers graze his when he takes them, and it feels like electricity. Before I can stop myself, I lean in and press my lips to his jaw.
“This is fucking bizarre,” I say, because calling it strange is like calling a tsunami a light sprinkle.
He leans back, catches my stare with those dark eyes, and gives me a smirk that could detonate ovaries. “No shit.”
My heart’s still thumping Jett’s name, but my feet carry me toward Benji. I don’t know how to make sense of this, one man who makes me feral, another who makes me feel seen. Neither of them running.
I want to be good for Benji. I want to walk in like a sane woman who didn’t just get called princess by a man who smells like sin and leather. But I’m not good. I’m barely holding my skin on. And somehow, Benji still makes me want to try.