Chapter 22
Part of me worries that Jed isn’t going to show up at my apartment. I still haven’t gotten his number, somehow, and that means I can’t stare at my phone, hyperventilate, and worry. All I can do is the worry part. And the hyperventilating part.
I change out of my dinner outfit the moment I get back, though I leave my makeup on and my hair up in its half-ponytail.
I’m attached to the curls and the way my hair frames my face.
All in all, I don’t think my hair has ever looked better.
And more than anything, I want to look good for Jed, so he doesn’t notice the parts of me that don’t look so great.
With my clothes on the floor, my phone takes that moment to go off. It vibrates off my desk to startle me enough that I bump into my dresser.
“Ow.” I sigh and rub my hip, nakedly scooping up the phone in my hand, expecting a number I don’t recognize. It’s probably Jed, I think, telling me he went on and killed Tyson Miller’s brother and not to wait up for him.
I’m probably not as interesting as murder, anyway.
But when the phone shows me Brenda in big letters, I stand there, blinking in both surprise and slight horror.
I don’t want to talk to her tonight. I never want to talk to her, to be fair, but tonight I really don’t want her to ruin…
everything. She’s especially good at that, and my stomach sinks as I imagine all the ways she could make tonight suck.
So I simply don’t answer her. I don’t send the call to voicemail, because that would be rude and, more importantly, she’d know that I’m here, available, and pointedly ignoring her call.
Instead, I gingerly handle my phone, making sure not to press anything as I place it back on the desk, closer to my laptop so it’s not dangling off the edge like a Cirque du Soleil performer about to hurtle off of the abyss.
Then I turn my back on Brenda’s call, and return to my dresser to grab a pair of blue, cotton panties.
When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, however, I stop with a frown.
“What are you even doing, huh?” I mutter to myself, hands planted on my hips in disappointment.
Whether Jed does show up or not—God, I hope he does—it’s my plan to be more prepared than navy cotton undies.
That’s just disgraceful.
Instantly they go into the laundry pile, and I dig around in my drawer until I find a pair of black, high-waisted underwear edged in lace.
They give me a plan, and my next dive into a dresser drawer results in me finding a bralette edged in the same lace, with a line of barbed wire glittering in silver print wrapping over it.
The wire twists and sparkles in the light of my room, and while there’s no wire design on the underwear, I love the way the silver adds just a bit of something extra.
Plus, they’re different. At least, I hope Jed hasn’t had girlfriends lining up to meet him in a bralette with barbed wire printed across it.
A knock on my door makes me jump again, and I whirl around, looking toward my door.
I doubt it’s Brenda. If it is, then she’s taken ruining my night to a terrifying new level.
Without thinking, I jog out of my room, not remembering that I’m barely dressed in my hurry to make sure it’s Jed and not someone else.
He won’t mind waiting at the door for a few seconds, right?
Just enough time for me to put on a shirt and leggings?
That thought goes out the window, though, when through the peephole I see exactly what I’d hoped for…
only a little bloodier than I’d expected.
Jed stands on my doorstep, scrubbing at his raw, bloody knuckles.
There’s a cut on his bottom lip bleeding sluggishly as well, and the shock of it causes me to pull the door wide, instead of calling out and asking him to wait.
“Are you okay?” I ask, causing his gaze to flick up to my face.
Well, for a moment, at least. Jed’s eyes widen as he looks at me, and he blinks before his eyes fall to my chest, then lower down. Then I remember I’m not wearing anything, and close my eyes hard in embarrassment.
“Shit. I was going to ask you to let me finish getting dressed.” My stomach clenches, twisting as I call myself ten kinds of stupid to just open the door in my underwear.
“I’m, uh, selfishly glad you forgot,” Jed says with a chuckle in that sweet, thoughtful voice that I’ve come to absolutely adore.
“This is so cute.” He reaches out with one bloody hand to trace his fingers along the barbed wire, and all I can do is stand there, looking at him.
“Maybe we…?” He steps forward, causing me to take a step back, and he has the wherewithal to close the door behind him, a smile still on his lips, though that darker look swims into his eyes.
“I’m not an asshole, I swear. But I’d rather be the only one appreciating you like this, princess. ”
The sweetness is still there in his tone, but the sultry growl is there as well.
Fuck, but he’s good at sounding so hot. I can feel warmth tingling down my spine, gathering between my thighs as he steps forward once more to run his fingers up my side.
It makes me squirm, and Jed’s grin widens as he does it again, clearly enjoying my reaction.
“Someone’s ticklish, huh?” he murmurs, reaching out to grip my opposite hip in order to hold me in place. “God, I’ll never get tired of looking at you.”
Only now do I remember his hands, and I reach out to grab the one on my hip, bringing it to my face so I can see the split knuckles glistening with blood.
“Are you okay?” I ask, gaze sliding up so I can catch his eyes before I can speak.
He’s so expressive that I think I’ll be able to tell if he’s hiding something. Maybe.
But Jed just dips his head, brings my hand up to his lips, and playfully nips at my knuckles. “I’m always okay,” he hums, his tongue darting out to taste along my skin. “You should know that by now.”
“You’re bleeding though,” I reply, stepping closer so I can stand on my tiptoes and touch my fingers to his mouth. When he doesn’t pull away at my first brush, I gently urge him closer so I can look at the split in his lip.
But Jed, clearly having other ideas, slants his lips against mine harshly instead of letting me examine his mouth.
He chuckles at my sound of surprise, deepening the kiss to swipe his tongue around the recesses of my mouth.
Almost instantly I can taste his blood on my tongue, and instead of disgustingly bitter or cringe-worthy, it’s…
Sharp. Not in a terrible way. Not even in a mildly bad way. It’s just different. Apparently different and intriguing enough that I don’t realize at first when I lick at his upper lip, tongue flicking over the split and bringing more of his blood into my mouth.
But Jed’s groan brings me back to myself and he pulls away with fluttering-shut eyes, his lashes dusting his cheeks.
“That’s so hot, Saylor,” he grates out hoarsely, pressing his body against mine firmly enough I can feel that even that little action is enough for him to be interested.
“Fuck. I never thought I’d be so turned on by you licking the blood off my lip. ”
“It’s not bad like I thought it would be,” I whisper, though I’m nowhere near craving it like him, I’m sure. Still, I pull on his hand, bringing it back to my face as his eyes fly open, surprise glittering in their depths.
“You don’t have to—” His words cut off into a strangled, desperate sound when I flick my tongue across his still bleeding knuckles. A shudder goes through him, and while the taste isn’t my favorite, his reactions are. I do it again, being more thorough as I clean the blood off of his skin.
“Fuck.” Even before, in the woods, he didn’t sound like this.
He sucks in a breath through his nose, eyes magnetized to my mouth, and flexes his fingers as I move to the next one.
“Fuck, Saylor. I’m gonna need you to stop if you don’t want me to rip off your clothes right here,” he informs me, though he doesn’t sound so sure of his actions.
As if he might do it anyway, even if I do stop.
“I would really like you to fuck me tonight; if you want to. Unless…” I look toward the door, blinking. “Did you kill him?”
“No.” Jed’s tone is flat as he flexes his hand, moving it to stroke my cheek. “I didn’t kill him. But if he shows up again, then I will. I made that very clear.”
“What if he goes to the police?”
A smile ghosts across his lips, and his eyes turn morbidly amused.
“Let him. I’m pretty sure they’d just love to have a word with him about how much he knew of his brother’s actions.
I’m not afraid of him, Saylor. And you shouldn’t be either.
You still want to come home with me?” He looks down at my state of undress again and sucks in another breath.
“I definitely would rather be at your place than here,” I assure him, breaking away enough that I can walk unimpeded back to my room. “I just, maybe, need pants. And a shirt. And shoes.”
“Just for the drive back,” Jed agrees, not arguing with my words as he follows me instead of waiting in my living room, like I’d thought he would.
No, he’s much more interested in looking around, gazing at the photos on my walls with fascination.
“You’re pretty good at this photography thing,” he points out, staring at the photo closest to my room.
It’s a shot of the woods close to my dad’s house, near nightfall, and there’s a coyote staring at the camera with one ear up and another down.
It’s one of my favorites, truth be told, because of the slight edge of eeriness that the photo holds.