13. Eden
Eden
When men start swinging their dicks around—duck!
W hen I wake the next morning, I can’t help but be relieved at finding myself alone. Jaykob had me twice more during the night, but, despite my delicious soreness, the memories of all the things I let him do to me—the things that I did to him —have me burying my face into a pillow.
What came over me last night? I was so nervous, then so mad at him. I wanted to push at him, throw him for a loop, like he did to me. Instead , I turned into some kind of wanton, furious, sex-hungry... harlot !
And with Jaykob , of all people. How did I let him bring that out in me?
How can I possibly face him again? Just the thought of his harsh, sneering smirk makes me want to bury myself in my room and never come out.
I’ve had bullies mock me before. I should have been collected and calm, the bigger person. I should have talked to him rationally.
I should not have come on his dick a half-dozen times and begged him for more.
The way he spoke to me... And I not only let him, I urged him on. I shiver at the memory. He more than obliged.
I’m going to have to do some Hail Marys or something. My grandmother would be so disappointed—she had grand hopes for my purity and godliness. She was the one who’d insisted on my name.
But Eden was never pure.
I was made to be corrupted.
Sitting up and putting on my discarded glasses, I look around the room. It’s destroyed. Pillows are flung around the room, clothes litter the floor, and the bed covers are rumpled. It smells like sex and sin. I smell like sex and sin.
How strange.
And why on earth do my lips want to twitch in satisfaction at that?
There’s an unfamiliar ache between my legs—not the pulsing need from last night, but a well-used soreness that, with every motion, sends vivid memories of how I obtained each spot of discomfort to my mind.
Surprisingly , my stomach, arms and legs also quiver with weakness, as though I’ve put in hours at the gym.
The next room is quiet. He must have gone to the main house. My stomach falls. Is he filling the others in? Giving his review?
I pale. I clawed at him. Did I bite him? I wasn’t myself at all last night. I was just awful .
Though echoes of pleasure still ripple through my body, what if he doesn’t feel the same?
Someone like Jaykob has probably been with dozens of experienced, sexy women who knew exactly how to blow his mind.
I’m barely more than a virgin. What if he left so early because he doesn’t want to look at me?
He was only “making do” with me, after all.
All the familiar doubts and self-consciousness that somehow abandoned me under his mouth and cock now come roaring back to life.
Though after we... did what we did..
. at least he didn’t sneer at me again. He’d fetched me water and something to eat, and gruffly rubbed arnica cream over my back and arms and legs, and when he stopped, we’d stared at each other so awkwardly that I was about to crawl under the bed to hide in embarrassment before he kissed me again.
Before he more than kissed me again.
I pick my clothes off the floor, then dubiously discard the torn panties.
I’m about to put on the dress when I notice the top half of it is ripped down one side as well.
With a sigh, I drop it. Unwilling to go back to the main house in my bare butt—there’s been enough of that on show, thank you very much— I go to the bedside table and look for a shirt.
A faded picture sits on top of remarkably neatly folded clothes.
I pick it up, unable to curb my curiosity.
Two young brown-haired boys sit on the fold-out steps of an old trailer, a woman in a long dress standing behind them.
The boys have their arms around each other, and the smaller one on the left is missing a tooth as he grins at the camera.
The larger boy wears a familiar smirk, though it holds none of the bitterness age would bring. They look happy.
The trailer is worn but well kept, the way my grandmother always kept hers. There’s a quiet pride in having nothing, sometimes. Everything you have becomes precious. Something to be protected.
Jayk and I are more alike than he knows.
I brush a finger over the photo. They must be his family. Did they pass away on Day Death ? Or after, during the second wave? My chest cramps. By the time everything went south, I didn’t really have anyone left to mourn.
I bite my lip. He shouldn’t keep something this precious wrapped up in his clothes—it’s a good way to lose things. I spot a large metal toolbox on his dresser and slip the photo inside one of the empty compartments, resolving to let him know where I’ve put it later.
I pull out a blue T -shirt and it falls nearly to my knees. Quickly , I let myself out of the room and head back to the house, carrying my shoes. I’ve never done a walk of shame before and want more than anything not to have to face anyone before I’ve showered and pulled myself together.
Of course, I’m not that lucky.
Dom and Jasper stand by the large stone fireplace in the towering sitting room, arguing in low voices.
Though I can’t make out his face from my place by the sliding door, Dom speaks with his hands—crisp, clipped motions—and his powerful shoulders are pushed back.
I start to assume that he’s getting the best of Jasper , but a second glance makes me hesitate, then shiver.
Jasper’s motions are precise, careful, and only occasional. There’s a sharp expectation, a sense of stillness in his stance that reminds me of the mesmerizing threat of a coiled whip. His beauty is cold, carved with a delicate savagery.
Suddenly , I’m not quite certain which of the two men is the more dangerous.
In spite of my curiosity, my self-preservation is stronger. I can find out what they’re arguing about later—if anyone is feeling more willing to share today, that is.
That thought ignites that odd spark of anger all over again, but I shake my head at myself before the feeling grows. I need to get over it. I know what I signed up for. I can take being belittled and condescended to. For comfort and company? I will take a good many things.
Last night flashes into my mind, and my hot temper shifts into a different kind of burn. Yes , okay. Perhaps I already took a good many things.
There’s a lot to be said for this deal, really.
As gently as I can, I ease open the door—though I might as well have flung it open for all my deviousness wins me.
Both men fall silent, instantly shifting so they stand shoulder to shoulder.
They may have been arguing mere seconds before, but now they look like a team.
A team that is one hundred percent focused on me.
I attempt a bland smile and step toward the stairs farthest from the two men.
“ Stop , pet,” Dom orders, eyes narrowing on me. “ Why the rush?”
My lips purse, and I give him a disapproving look, trying not to quail. “ You know, it’s quite impolite to call me that.”
Dom just stares at me, molten-eyed and expectant.
Jasper studies me too closely for my liking.
I know what I must look like. My hair is a wild mess around me—my hair tie was lost to Jaykob’s floor—and I’m in his overlarge shirt, and if I smell even a fifth as strong as the room I woke up in, then I reek of sex.
Not to mention, I’m aching everywhere, and covered in sweat—not all of it my own—and other fluids that I do not particularly want to think about in the judgy light of day.
It’s no secret what we were up to, but I still find myself wincing at their knowing looks.
“ I , ah, need a shower,” I mutter, backing up before they can stop me again.
I turn right into Beau’s chest.
Why are all these men so tall and constantly in the way?
“ Mornin ’, darlin’. Want some breakfast?” He holds a mug of coffee with one hand and, with the other, he catches me round the waist and pulls me close to his body in a quick hug.
I can’t stop my slight gasp of discomfort.
Beau steps back sharply, his smile fading as he studies my face. Before I can flee with whatever dignity I have left, Dom is behind me, lifting one sleeve of the T -shirt. His face stills. Stiffens .
“ It’s not a big deal,” I start, wishing, not for the first time, that I was hidden deep in my old cave.
“ How bad is it?” Beau snaps, and I jump at the harshness of his tone.
It’s only a few bruises. I’ve always bruised easily.
But Dom doesn’t wait for me to answer. His hand bunches in the back of my shirt and he yanks it up, exposing my bare body to the waist. I screech and try to pull it down with no success.
Beau is quivering. I look up at him, bewildered, as I fight against Dom’s grip on the shirt.
“ I’m going to kill him, Dom .” Fury makes his hazel eyes flash. “ And fuck you for forcing this. I might expect her to look like this after Jasper , but at least he knows when to stop.”
Jasper ? My gaze flies to the beautiful man, my heart pounding in embarrassment and frustration and a renewed hint of fear. The same man who turns each page with mesmerizing, reverent care? That Jasper ?
Jasper takes in my reaction in one assessing glance and directs a small, chilly smile at Beau . “ This is far too crude for my taste. But I do so appreciate you frightening her; that will certainly make this easier on everyone.”
His tart words could cause frostbite, and the taste of violence in the air thickens. It curdles on my tongue. Then Dom runs his hand firmly over my bare, bruised hips like I’m an injured animal, and I flinch back.
“ Let go !” I demand, hating that my voice quakes. “ I — I am not some toy to be thrown around!”
The sliding door rolls open behind me, but Dom’s grip won’t let me turn.
“ Got thrown around plenty last night, sugar. Didn’t reckon you’d be ready for round two already,” Jaykob drawls. “ Or that’d make it round four now, yeah?”