Chapter Thirteen
EFFA
“Like them? You mean the crew?” His voice is clipped.
Instantly, I regret opening my mouth. “Mercs, that’s not what I meant.” My body tenses with frustration—at him, at me, at this whole mess. “With them, it was different. There were no feelings. It was pure release… an outlet.”
His jaw unclenches slightly, and his chest rises with a long, steady breath. He rolls onto his back beside me, staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe we should cool it for tonight.”
I throw my head back into the pillow with a sharp exhale, my eyes clenched shut. “Sorry. Fuck.”
His voice softens. “For what?”
“For being who I am.”
He’s silent for a moment, then his hand closes around mine.
I blink my eyes open, and he’s looking at me with an intense frown.
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever apologize for being who you are.
I like who you are, Effa.” His thumb brushes across my skin.
“But I do need to understand who you were. Because the Effa I’m lying next to right now?
She’s not the same as the one I’ve heard stories about.
And she’s the only one I care about knowing. ” He shifts, turning to face me.
I mirror him, my heart thudding as he leans in and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is soft but sure, and when he pulls back, his eyes lock with mine, steady and clear.
“Just give me a little time. That’s all I’m asking.”
I nod, sitting up on the bed, hugging my knees for a second before glancing over at him. “So, are you going back to your room?”
His brow arches, amusement shining in his eyes. “No, I’m not leaving on that note. And I’m definitely not going back to my cold-ass bed. I’d much rather be here, with you. You matter to me, Effa.”
A soft warmth unfurls in my chest. “You matter to me, too, Mercs.” I pause, eyeing the jeans still clinging to his body. “But if you’re staying, you need to lose the pants. You’re way too overdressed for this bed.”
He chuckles, low and rough. “Bossy.”
“You love it.” I smirk.
***
My sleep was patchy at best, but at some point, I must have slipped into a deep enough slumber to make the morning feel bearable. Almost refreshed, even.
I hate when my sleep’s off. I’ve tried everything, lavender oil, meditation tracks, even counting chakras instead of sheep, but nothing sticks.
Yet somehow, since Mercs started sleeping beside me, things have been…
calmer, easier, maybe it’s just knowing he’s there.
Or maybe it’s his energy that’s grounding me in a solid and safe environment.
But when I roll over to reach for him, my hand meets cold sheets.
Instantly alert, I blink against the soft morning light filtering in through the heavy curtains.
My bed is empty.
Totally, unmistakably empty.
Turning toward the ensuite, my chest tightens. The light’s off. My gaze falls to the spot where Mercs left his clothes last night.
His pants, shirt, shoes—gone!
A shiver slices through me as I sit up, the covers falling away to expose my bare chest, but it’s not the chill that makes me wrap my arms around myself… it’s dread.
No sign of him.
While chewing my bottom lip, I slide to the edge of the bed, my feet sinking into the plush carpet that offers zero comfort against the growing unease knotting in my gut. I head for the ensuite, each step heavier than the last, my heartbeat hammering.
Maybe he’s still here.
Maybe he’s grabbing coffee.
Maybe…
Please, Gaia, just let him be brushing his damn teeth.
I peek around the doorway.
Empty.
No, he’s gone.
My throat constricts, a sharp ache blooming behind my sternum. The worst part? He didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face.
Did I spook him?
Did the weight of my past tip the scale?
Maybe it’s just all too much for him.
And maybe I’m an idiot for thinking I was worth more than a midnight vanishing act.
Anger flares in my chest, a wild, unfamiliar heat I’m not used to carrying. I don’t do rage, I’m the peace-and-love girl. The take-a-breath-and-release-the-negativity chick.
So why the hell do I want to scream?
Because I’m hurt.
Deep down, where I don’t let anyone reach.
We weren’t exclusive.
We weren’t anything, not really.
But dammit, I let him in. I trusted him. And now he’s just… gone?
I lift my chin.
No. Screw that.
“Fuck him,” I mutter, storming back into the suite, every step fueled with stubborn pride. I won’t let him derail me. I’ve got a show to prepare for, a tour to run. If he bailed, and Luke comes at me guns blazing, fine. I’ll cop it.
Maybe Luke was right.
Still, it hurts.
I grab the shampoo and conditioner from my suitcase, not bothering to dress up for the jet. Today’s itinerary is to travel to Montana, set up, and chill. The show’s tomorrow, so I can save the sparkles for Rimrock Auto Arena.
Inside the ensuite, I crank the shower and let it roar to life before stripping off my G-string and stepping under the cascade of scalding water.
It crashes over me like a waterfall of fire, scrubbing at the grime of the show and the night.
My muscles unwind under the steady pressure, but my mind won’t stop spinning.
His fingers in my hair.
The weight of his body over mine.
The way he kissed me like I was the only thing tethering him to this planet.
Clenching my eyes shut, I try to scrub it all away. Him. The memories. The disappointment.
What will be, will be.
Everything happens for a reason.
Believe that, Effa.
I lather up quickly, the fruity burst of mango and citrus scents helping reset my mood. Sort of. The tension ebbs from my shoulders, and I take a slow breath, forcing my smile into place.
It’s fake. But if I wear it long enough, maybe it’ll stick.
I towel off, wrap my hair, and walk naked back to my suitcase, grabbing a pair of panties and a matching pink lace bra. Just as I fasten the clasp, there’s a knock at the door.
Hope flares in my chest.
Maybe he came back.
Maybe he needed some space.
Maybe…
I rush toward the door, not caring that I’m barely dressed. My heart’s in my throat, my smile locked in place as I yank the door open and say, “I knew you wouldn’t leave like tha—”
Shit.
My smile dies.
Jett stands there, wide-eyed and grinning like he’s hit the damn jackpot.
“Oh… so not who I was expecting,” I mutter, my voice low and thick with disappointment.
He gulps, eyes dragging over me far too slowly. “Umm… did I interrupt something?”
I exhale sharply, guiding my fingers through my damp hair. “No. Doesn’t matter.”
Jett’s expression softens. “You okay? You look… I mean, you look incredible, but also kinda wrecked.”
I glance down at myself. The lace is barely covering anything. But I don’t flinch. It’s no different than a bikini. I own my body, and I always have.
“I’m just having a crap morning,” I admit. “Did you come for something?”
He perks up. “Yeah! I wanted to see if we’re good to start the extended sets in Montana tomorrow?”
I raise a brow.
Could have waited.
Could have asked me anywhere else.
But okaaay.
“Yes. That’s the plan.”
He grins and nods. Then silence—long, awkward, charged silence.
Eventually, he glances around the room. “You know the jet leaves in like an hour, right?”
“Shit!” I curse.
Jett slides past me into my room and starts picking up my clothes as though he lives here, piling them onto the bed. My brows knit as I watch him touch my things like it’s his damn job or something.
“What are you doing?”
Jett grabs a bra with a cheeky grin just as another knock rattles the door. He spins toward it, still holding the damn bra, and pulls it open.
And standing there…
Backpack slung over one shoulder, jaw clenched tight…
Is Mercs.
My breath catches.
His eyes drop to the lace bra dangling from Jett’s fingers. Then slowly, they climb back up to Jett’s face. A look of pure fury flashes across Mercs’ features as he drops his bag and storms into the room, grabbing Jett by the collar and shoving him hard.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jett barks, shoving back.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you little prick?” Mercs snarls, his voice raw and dangerous.
They’re chest to chest, tension crackling like static, and I hover on the edge of it, unsure if I should intervene, but also weirdly loving this alpha-off.
“I was helping her pack,” Jett says, smirking. “Came to talk about the set list. What’s your issue?”
“My issue is you, in here, with Effa half-naked and her bra in your fucking hand, like you’ve got a chance. You don’t. She’s mine. So back off before I make you.”
My heart skips.
Mine.
Mercs isn’t posturing. He means it.
And God, it’s sexy as hell.
Jett shrugs, tosses the bra aside, and mutters, “Later, cupcake,” before he saunters toward the door.
Mercs follows, delivering a final shove before Jett steps out.
Then the door slams with a satisfying bang.
I tilt my head. “Hmmm…”
Mercs turns back to me, his eyes dark and hooded.
He stalks toward me with deliberate steps, gaze hot as it rakes down my barely dressed body.
“When you’re wearing something that fucking sexy…
” he growls, “… it should be for my eyes only.” His hands grab my waist, dragging me into him as I gasp.
One hand fisting in my damp hair, he yanks me forward and crashes his mouth to mine.
His kiss is a storm—rough, wild, claiming—and I let him take every piece of me.
My body instantly reacts to him, and my hands rush around his back as I melt into him.
We continue to kiss, his tongue dancing with mine.
I’m not sure how, but he intensifies the kiss, taking full control, and pushes me into my bedroom and up against the wall.
His body cages mine, all heat and muscle, pressing so firmly against my bare skin that there’s nothing else I can feel but him, thick, solid, and hard with want.
His hands are rough and demanding as they roam down my sides, gripping my hips with a possessive edge. One hand sneaks beneath my panties, and I gasp against his lips as his fingers find me slick, needy, already aching for him.
“Fuck, Effa,” he growls low, his mouth ghosting over mine. “You’re already so wet for me.”
I moan, my head falling back against the wall as his fingers slide through my folds, teasing me in lazy, delicious strokes. My body arches toward him on instinct, desperate for more. He slides one finger inside me, slow and deliberate, curling it just enough to have my knees buckling.
“Mercs…” I breathe, my voice barely there, trembling with need.
“Shhh…” he murmurs against my neck, nipping me with his teeth. “You don’t need to say a word, baby. I’ve got you.” He adds another finger, thrusting them deep, and my hips start to rock against his hand, chasing the rising wave. The pressure is building, winding tight, my body begging for release.
But just as I teeter on the edge, he pulls back. His fingers still, slipping free with a wet sound that leaves me panting and strung out.
My eyes snap open, wide and desperate. “Why’d you stop?”
Mercs smirks, dark and broody. “Because I can. Because I like knowing you want it just as bad as I do. And because I’m not giving you anything… not yet.”
A frustrated whimper escapes me, and he brushes my cheek with the back of his knuckles, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent.
“Next time,” he promises, his voice low and gruff.
“Next time, I’ll make you come so hard you’ll forget your own name.
” He presses a final, punishing kiss to my lips and then steps back, leaving me breathless, aching, and furious in the best kind of way.
“I need to pack,” I mutter, trying to regain my composure, even as my thighs clench and my pulse still races.
“I’ll help,” he says, adjusting the bulge in his jeans with a hiss of frustration. “Even though that’s the last fucking thing I want to do. What I want is to tear off your underwear and bend you over the damn bed and take what’s mine.”
A knock at the door cuts through the tension, and Mercs lets out a guttural groan. He rakes a hand through his hair, shifting his cock again as it strains against his zipper.
“That better not be that fucker back again.”
“Mercs, I like this protective side of you.”
He throws me a devilish smirk before stalking to the door.
As I pull on my clothes, the sound of Luke’s irritated voice cuts through the room.
“Why are you two still in here? The bus is ready to leave. Get your fucking asses into gear now.”
“Effa’s just packing the last of her things. We’ll be down soon.”
“Make sure you are. Everyone is waiting.”
The door clicks shut, and Mercs returns, immediately scooping up clothing from across the floor and tossing it into my suitcase like they personally offended him.
As I watch him—breathless, and still hard—I wonder where he went last night. We need to talk about it. But right now, knowing he came back, knowing he wants me this badly, it dulls the ache of uncertainty just enough.
Still, the fact that he left at all sits like a rock in my gut.
And as we pack in silence, I can’t help but think this is going to be one uncomfortable flight.