7. Jet
JET
Sleep is out of the question because every time I close my eyes, I imagine her just inside, a few steps from me, wearing my T-shirt, lying in my bed, her head on my pillow, and I’m wide awake again.
Wide awake and remembering exactly how she looked when she stripped off her clothes and asked me to make love to her.
Make love.
Fuck.
I toss the throw off and sit up, finished with trying to sleep. I work the kink in my neck. Cotton raises her head, interrupted from sleep.
“It’s okay, girl,” I tell her and she settles back down.
I’m confronted by my reflection in the glass wall and push my hair out of my eyes. My watch tells me it’s not yet six o’clock. I’ve grabbed twenty minutes here, thirty there all night long. Can’t seem to sleep with her in the other room. Hell, maybe I don’t trust myself to.
I stand, stretching as I walk across the room to turn on the espresso machine.
My phone is a mess of messages from Cassian.
I don’t bother to read more than the first and instead watch rich brown liquid pour into my cup.
I drop a second pod into the machine then drink the scorching double espresso in two gulps before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and heading down to the gym.
I’ll kill a few hours and burn off some of this energy before waking her up.
A dozen curving stairs lead down to the lowest level.
My version of a basement. A sort of walk-out unlike any other because rather than the wall of glass here, there’s a swimming pool which is fully enclosed in reinforced glass and steel, even the bottom, so I can watch the sky and the ocean as I swim my laps.
But swimming alone isn’t going to do it today.
I pull on the pair of sneakers I keep down here and walk over to the treadmill.
Plugging my earbuds in, I start my run. I’m wearing sweatpants which aren’t ideal for running but my clothes are upstairs.
I’d changed out of the clothes I’d worn to the baptism while Amal was in the bath last night.
I run staring straight ahead at the calm water of the pool while Nine Inch Nails screams about fucking you like an animal which is exactly the wrong song to get last night out of my head.
Because Amal Lombardi has always been the one woman who is never far from my mind.
Maybe it’s our shared roles in what is Cassian’s world. We are on the fringes of it. Not quite in, not fully out. For me, it’s a choice. I like the life. I want it. For her, it simply is. Malek Lombardi made the choice for her.
“I’d marry you myself before I let that happen. Before I allow any man to lay a fucking finger on you.”
“Christ.” I up the incline and the speed, sweat dripping from me as my feet stomp on the belt. When the song is over, I play it again and again.
Those words came out before I consciously thought of them, but they’re true. I feel the certainty like nothing else. It makes no fucking sense but there it is.
And hell, her asking me to fuck her, no, her asking me to make love to her, is not the same as what I said. Marriage. She’s twenty-two. She shouldn’t be getting married. She should be out having fun, living her life. Being carefree. Dating.
Except when I think about her dating, when I even start to consider another man’s eyes on her or hands on her, I make fists of my own because I think I’d kill them.
I know I would.
I crank the volume, the lyrics crowding out my thoughts as I exhaust my body. Half an hour later, twenty pull ups later, I’m at the weight machines lifting more than my usual, my body pushed to the max and still she slips into my thoughts, this lost little virgin.
My lost little virgin.
“Fuck me.”
Amal and Daniel fly back to Florida today. Once they’re safely on their flight, I’ll talk to Cassian. Figure out exactly where his head’s at regarding Amal. And I’ll fix it, whatever it is. I will keep my promise to her.
When the sun breaks the horizon and my body cannot take any more, I climb the stairs back up to the main floor, the muscles of my thighs on fire.
I down another bottle of water and make a cup of coffee for her.
I’m not sure how she takes it but since I don’t have milk or sugar in the house, it’s going to be black.
I don’t check my phone, not even when I hear the buzz of a text coming in.
I make my way to my bedroom and pause at the door to knock once.
Although I admit it’s a soft knock, when there’s no answer, I open it and peer inside to find Amal still asleep on my side of the bed, burrowed beneath the covers.
I should clear my throat. Give some signal that I’m here.
But I don’t. Instead, I cross the room to the bed, footsteps silent.
It’s wrong and creepy to watch her sleep but I do it anyway.
She has one arm over her head, the other on top of the blankets.
Wild curly hair is splayed out over my pillow, and her face is so soft in sleep, she looks even younger than she is and utterly innocent.
The shirt I had given her to wear is on the floor alongside her panties and the realization that she’s naked strikes me. I grit my teeth. The thought of it, of her naked in my bed, has my breathing tighten, my muscles tensing.
Fuck. Me.
When she mutters something and shifts a little, I quickly snatch up the panties from the floor and tuck them into my pocket before clearing my throat.
This time, Amal blinks, draws in a luxurious breath before stretching, her body twisting like a cat.
There’s a satisfied smile on her lips and a soft moan of pleasure escapes her pretty lips. That sound makes my dick ache.
“Morning,” I say, and she gasps, eyelids flying open.
“What the…” She bolts upright, eyes wide, hands over her heart and staring up at me in a panic.
I grin. “Sleeping Beauty,” I say casually.
“Holy shit, Jet! You almost gave me a heart attack! What the hell—”
“I knocked.”
“Knock louder. What are you doing? Watching me sleep?”
“Bringing coffee,” I lie, very aware her panties are literally in my pocket. I hold up the cup as if that proves my innocence.
When I drop my gaze to her exposed breasts, she glances down, then, startled, she grabs the duvet and clutches it to her chest, glancing at the discarded shirt before looking up at me.
My eyebrows lift just a little and I can’t help my grin.
“I got hot,” she says, a blush creeping into her cheeks.
“I bet.”
“Not like that,” she says, but the furious red her face turns tells me exactly like that and I like the idea of it. Of her getting off in my bed even if it is alone. I’d love to watch her sometime.
I forced the image out of my head before my dick gets the wrong idea.
She swings her legs out and takes the coffee I hand her, clutching the duvet to herself with her other.
“You don’t look like you got much sleep,” she says finally.
“I got hot too,” I say with a wink.
She flushes bright red and her gaze drops to my chest before she looks me over. I’m shirtless, in my sweats and barefoot. It takes a beat as her blush fades and her eyes grow… confused.
My heartbeats pick up at this shift.
Because I know what she sees.
Because it’s what I intended, isn’t it?
The scars are faded, but there all the same. Dozens of them. And from them rise the inked black wings of a phoenix. My rebirth. I could have hidden the scars. Covered over them. But this? This is me owning them.
Down my right arm is a large skull, the broken crown on its head. A Roman letter decorates each prong. I V I. Each letter is split in two by my sword which is coming out of the blind eye of the skull. My family’s crest is swallowed up inside the skull’s open mouth.
Every dot of ink carries meaning. A taking back of what was taken from me.
Severin asked me once why I’d want that on my body, in my skin. Did I not feel the constant weight of it?
I still think about that question so many years later. More than a decade later.
Amal doesn’t know what she’s looking at. All she sees are ink and scars. She won’t see the details, not yet.
I watch her mouth open, her eyebrows lift as her gaze moves over my torso, my shoulders, lingering over each of the tattoos before returning to my face, a line forming between her eyebrows.
I’m suddenly not sure why I didn’t grab a T-shirt to cover myself, but there it is. I never let anyone see. Never.
“Jet… What is all that?”
I shake my head unsure why I let her see. “Just a little ink,” I lie. “I need to shower,” I say, but what I mean is I need to get out of here.
Without a word, I cross to the bathroom, feeling her eyes on me, hearing her gasp because the scars are worse there and inky flames of fire lick up my back, devouring each one.
Just a little ink.
Just a big fat lie.
My heart thuds against my ribs and my brain is screaming what the fuck. What the fuck was I thinking letting her see?
Why did I want her to see?
I close the bathroom door, strip off my sweats and underwear and step into the walk-in shower. Switching on the water, I close my eyes and let it wash over me.
What the fuck am I doing?
I shampoo my hair and scrub my body mechanically, switching off the water and grabbing a towel. I dry off, then wrap it low around my hips and make my way to the vanity. A five o’clock shadow dusts my jaw. I get the electric razor to trim it.
Amal knocks on the door then opens it a little to peer inside before she walks in. She perches on the edge of the tub and I’m not sure I’m glad or disappointed she put my T-shirt on.
“You took my panties,” she says outright.
“Memento,” I don’t bother to lie.
Our eyes met in the mirror. I raise my chin to shave my throat.
Her gaze moves over my shoulders. No other comment on the panties.
“The tattoos. How long have you had them?”
I shrug, going for casual. “Got them over the last couple of years.” Because these last four years have been the first where I’ve felt like I could. Like what happened didn’t own me. That it could be the opposite. That I could be stronger for it, if I so chose.
“What does it all mean?”
“Like I said, just ink.”
“I don’t believe that.” She stands, walks over to me and when I feel the tips of her fingers trace a scar on my back, my body goes rigid. “What happened to you, Jet?”
I splash aftershave on my face before turning to face her, unsure what I’m going to say. Something off the cuff, casual. Like it really is nothing. But I find I can’t speak at all.
“Don’t tell me nothing because you wanted me to see. You’d have put on a shirt if you didn’t want that. So tell me. What happened to you?”
She’s right. And blunt. Calling me out. What did I expect?
I walk out of the bathroom and she follows me, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while I grab briefs out of the dresser drawer.
“You’ll tell me. You want to.”
“You sure think you know a lot. I need to get dressed.”
“I don’t mind. Go ahead,” she says with a grin.
I raise my eyebrows, signal for her to turn around with my fingers.
“You’re not shy, are you? I mean, you’ve seen me naked. You stole my dirty panties.” She leans back on her forearms and makes a point of crossing her legs ever so slowly, flashing her naked pussy before getting comfortable.
“You are a dirty little virgin, aren’t you?”
“Don’t you wish you could find out how dirty?”
“Touché.” I grin. I like this back and forth with her.
“Tit for tat, Jet. Go ahead.”
“Tit for tat, huh? You want to see?” I ask, stepping toward her, my cock starting to stiffen. “Well, have your fill, dirty Little Virgin.” I drop my towel. She blinks fast maybe surprised I did it. I grin because I see the blush creeping up her cheeks.
I step toward her and set my hands on her knees. When I push them wide, she gasps, sets her hands over mine, dropping back onto the bed as I expose her pretty, shaved little pussy.
My dick gets the wrong idea growing ever harder.
Taking my time, I let my gaze linger, seeing how the pink lips of her pussy grow slick in anticipation. I guess her cunts getting the wrong idea too.
It takes all I have to drag my gaze to hers. To not bend my head down and takes one little taste. Because fuck do I want to.
“You should be careful with that big mouth of yours, Little Virgin.”
Her breathing is ragged and I release her knees to climb up onto the bed, straddling her, my dick inches from that big mouth. I drag her arms over her head and pin them there.
She licks her lips dragging her gaze from my dick to my face.
“Because I can think of one way to better use it.”
“I…” she starts, squirming beneath me.
“But don’t worry. Like I said last night, now’s not the time.
” So, I get off the bed and push her legs closed delivering a spank to her pretty little butt cheek before pulling on my briefs and walking into the closet to get dressed and also give her a minute to recover.
By the time I’m back, she is sitting up, T-shirt pulled down over her knees, prim and almost proper but for that grin on her face.
“I learned a fun fact last night,” she says while I buckle my belt.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I turn my back to her, opening a drawer to swap out my watch.
Her footsteps are quiet as she comes up behind me to stand close enough that I can smell my own scent on her. “You like to read romance. Dark stuff.”
I slip the watch over my wrist and turn to face her. She’s grinning wildly, all teeth and trouble. I like it. I like seeing her like this. It’s so different to the face she wears in public.
“And I like bubble baths,” I say, tapping my pointer finger to her nose. “Now you know all my secrets.”
“Not all of them. Not the ones that matter.” She’s referring to the scars but I have no intention of telling that story just yet.
A sound chimes from inside startling Amal.
I grit my teeth. Although, saved by the bell?
“What is that?” she asks.
“Alarm. Can you guess who it’ll be?” I walk over to the panel on the wall closest to the door and punch in a code. The screen lights up and I see Cassian standing outside looking pissed as hell. “Time’s up.” I turn to her. Her face has fallen. “Better get dressed.”
She looks up at me, a heaviness over her features. I get the feeling she wants to say something but then, a moment later, she just nods, her forehead furrowing with worry.
Before she can turn away, I reach out and touch her cheek, lift her face to mine by her chin. “Do you trust me, Amal?”
“I barely know you, Jet.”
“You know more about me than most. Do you trust me? With this?” I ask, pressing my hand over her heart.
She’s not expecting me to touch her. To lay my hand to her heart. Her breathing comes faster as her heart thuds against my hand. She stares up at me with those pretty, lost eyes and I want to pull her to me and hold her. I want to hide her away, lock her up where no one can touch her.
“Tell me,” I say.
She nods.
“Then trust me to keep my promise. I will not let anyone touch you. No matter what.” After a long moment, I drop my hand. “Now get dressed. He won’t like seeing you half naked in my T-shirt.”