CHAPTER 57 #2
Jasper looked at her for a long moment without his usual distance. As if he were searching her eyes for permission to be honest.
He opened his mouth to answer and didn’t get the chance.
A guy on an electric scooter suddenly flew past them.
Nina barely registered what was happening, only felt a strong arm snap around her waist and yank her backward.
The world tilted. The ground vanished beneath her feet. She collided with Jasper as the scooter shot past inches away.
It took her a second to realize that the idiot had been racing down the sidewalk without looking.
She stood pressed against Jasper’s chest. Her heart pounded. Her breathing was uneven.
And he didn’t let go.
Not even a minute later.
His hand was still on her waist—burning, disorienting.
The adrenaline slowly faded, but inside she still vibrated like a drawn wire. His chest rose and fell sharply against her. He didn’t release her.
And she didn’t move because she didn’t want him to.
He looked at her with a heavy, dark gaze. His eyes traveled from her flushed cheeks to her lips and stopped.
She saw him freeze, as if fighting himself.
And then his scent filled her senses, surrounding her, sinking into her.
Nina instinctively ran her tongue over her lips.
Heat flared inside her, sudden and fierce. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly at her waist.
And in that moment, something between them shifted. The tension that had been building all this time finally snapped.
She didn’t know who leaned in first. Their lips met sharply like a flash of light. Uncertain. On an inhale. And instantly wild, electric, unreal.
The world disappeared. There was no street. No cars. No streetlights. Only his lips on hers. Soft. Warm. Hungry.
Nina grabbed the front of his jacket, as if she wouldn’t be able to stay on her feet otherwise. Jasper leaned in closer, his free hand sliding along her back, pulling her in tighter like he was afraid she might disappear.
And that was it.
She burned. Nina reached for him, breathless, like there wasn’t enough air, like all the oxygen in the world now lived in his lips, in his body, in this impossible closeness.
Everything inside her was on fire. Right here, right now, she no longer remembered who she was—or who he had been.
And then he pulled away.
So abruptly that she didn’t immediately register the distance. Two full steps between them.
Jasper was breathing hard, his eyes almost unhinged. In them, she saw something she’d never seen before—fear, fury, guilt.
“Damn it…” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Nina didn’t even have time to exhale.
He stepped back. Then another step.
“I won’t come near you again,” he said hoarsely. “I swear, Nina.”
And without giving her a chance to say a single word, he turned and walked away.
No, he fled.
His car was still parked near the restaurant, but he headed down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
Nina stayed where she was—stunned, disoriented. Her lips burned. Her heart slammed wildly against her ribs.
She didn’t understand what she was feeling. Didn’t understand why she hadn’t pushed him away. Why she hadn’t slapped him.
And why, instead of fear or disgust, what she felt was… desire.
She needed to see a therapist.
No, better yet, a psychiatrist, because there was a very real chance she’d lost her mind.
Later, she lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling without blinking. The window was open, night air drifting into the room. Her thoughts refused to quiet down.
Her fingers slid to her lips. They felt scorched by his touch. Nina brushed them with her fingertip.
That kiss had burned itself under her skin. Etched itself inside her.
Jasper.
His name looped in her head like a skipping record. She didn’t know what she wanted more in that moment that he’d pulled away… or that he never would have let her go.
It was wrong.
All of it was wrong. The dinner. The conversation. Her laughter. The touches. And the kiss.
She’d been through so much. Spent years fighting to forget. To bury everything connected to those days—to that night. She’d built walls around herself for years. Let no one close. No one.
And now…
The man whose name had once brought her trembling, fear, rage, despair had appeared at the exact moment she needed support the most.
Why him?
Why had it been him who felt so close when she was at her weakest?
The question wouldn’t leave her alone.
And yet she noticed something else.
She didn’t feel panic. No urge to run for pills, to numb herself with sedatives. On the contrary—there was a strange alertness inside her. Almost clarity.
Her phone screen suddenly lit up, tearing her out of her thoughts. The bright light stung her eyes.
A message.
Jasper: Can I come over? Now. I want to talk… about what happened. I really am sorry.
Nina froze. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Her fingers trembled—not from fear, but because she didn’t know how she wanted to answer.
Did she want him to come?
Did she want to see him right now?
Before she could decide, another message appeared.
Jasper: Forget it. It’s a terrible idea. The last thing you’d want is me showing up at your place in the middle of the night.
Her finger hovered over the keyboard. Her chest felt tight.
She didn’t think. She just typed: Come over. Before I change my mind. And sent it.
Nina jumped out of bed. Her hair was messy, and she was wearing a cotton nightgown: comfortable, but entirely unsuitable for a late-night conversation in the yard with a man she didn’t know how she felt about.
The same man who had kissed her just a few hours ago, then fled as if afraid of his own actions.
What was she doing? She had decided not to invite him inside.
That the conversation would be short, restrained, without excessive emotion.
In front of the security team—safer. More rational.
More correct. But her hands were already grabbing the first things they found: dark jeans, a long-sleeved black turtleneck.
In the bathroom, she quickly washed the sleep from her face, brushed her hair, spritzed perfume on her neck.
Damn. She wasn't planning to seduce him.
But she did it anyway—as if there were a chance he would touch her again.
She didn't know why she wanted to look attractive in his eyes.
Everyone knew how it ended the last time she wore a beautiful short dress and felt as excited as she did now.
Nina walked to the window and saw headlights. He had arrived. Excitement and anxiety surged inside her. What to do? How to act? Pretend nothing had happened?
She walked toward the door and saw on the panel screen that Jasper was walking toward the entrance. Was security too careless, letting him through like this?
Nina nervously adjusted her turtleneck, took a deep breath, and tried to adopt a neutral expression. She opened the door and he immediately froze on the steps, meeting her gaze.
They stared at each other, unable to utter a single word. She kept her hand on the doorknob, blinking several times. He opened his mouth, then closed it immediately as if he himself didn’t understand why he had come.
“Sorry,” he finally breathed out, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I… all the words I prepared vanished the moment I saw you.”
He frowned, looked away, then looked back at her. He was tense and seemed on edge. It was difficult for Nina to read his emotions. Difficult to understand what he was thinking. She didn’t understand men well at all. She needed to understand herself first.
He stood before her—tall, bewildered, uncharacteristically vulnerable. And she felt something inside her respond to it. Not fear, not anxiety. Something else. Unknown. Aching.
And suddenly, she felt suffocated by all the half-truths, the pauses, the strained wording. She took a step forward, bravely closing the distance between them.
“Do you like me, Jasper?” she asked directly, surprised by her own bluntness. Because even for a woman inexperienced in relationships, it was clear: something wasn't right here. “As a woman. I want to know.”
He flinched. Looked at her as if she had just voiced his biggest secret. Or perhaps he didn't believe she had actually said it out loud. She didn't believe it either—neither her words nor the conclusions she had reached. Was this possible? Could it be?
“Will you go out with me?” he asked, countering her question. Then he took a step back, as if aiming to increase the distance. As if her proximity affected him, making it hard to control his thoughts and actions. “This Saturday. I’ll pick you up.”
And he fled, just as unexpectedly as his proposal had sounded. Nina stood stunned on the porch, catching herself smiling as she watched him go. She went back inside, closed the door, and ran to her phone. Her hands were trembling from the intensity of that brief, late-night encounter.
“Too cowardly of you to run away without hearing my answer,” she messaged him and fell onto the bed.
What the hell was going on?