Page 112 of Broken Pact

Like maybe he’s saying it because he really means it.

I shift to my knees and lean over the center console, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

It feels more intimate, real and raw somehow. His words reverberate through me, echoing in the empty spaces I didn't even realize were there.

I pull back before either one of us can get carried away. As much as I’m frustrated with the way the conversation went inside, I still don’t want to be sitting in my parents’ driveway, making out with my boyfriend.

Jasper rests his forehead against mine, his eyes dark and intense as they search my face.

"I mean it, Coraline," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "You're mine now. And I take care of what's mine."

Emotion swells in my chest, threatening to spill over. I’m high on endorphins, the ones that make me feel reckless and wild. The kind of thing that makes me forget all the bad shit that’s hanging over my head. All the uncertainty and low-level fear.

I settle in my seat just as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pluck it out as Jasper reverses down my parents’ ridiculously long driveway.

“Hawke just texted me.” I waggle my phone, showing my screen with five unread texts from Hawke.

Hawke: How’s Sunday dinner

Hawke: To be honest, I’m a little offended you took Jagger and not me. Moms love me.

Hawke: Come to the clubhouse and hang out like we used to

Hawke: Stop ignoring me, Carter

Hawke: Alright, just know you brought this on yourself.

“Hm. let me guess, he’s trying to convince you to go to the clubhouse?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, no chance of that.”

Jasper smirks. “What’s the matter, baby? You afraid you can’t hang with the boys?”

My tongue flattens against the roof of my mouth with a tsk. I settle into the passenger seat, tucking my legs underneath me in crisscross applesauce style. “You’re trying to bait me, but it’s not going to work.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, baby. I’m merely making an observation.”

Self-righteousness straightens my shoulders, and my thumbs fly across my phone screen. Before I can hit send, Jasper snatches my phone away.

“Hey, gimme that back,” I protest, reaching for it.

“Let me help you, baby.” He holds it away from me with his right hand, his left gripping the wheel as we turn the corner out of my parents’ street.

“I don’t need your help with him,” I huff out, rolling my eyes.

He glances at my screen, his lips flattening into an unimpressed scowl. “Fucking Hawke,” he mutters.

“What did he say?” I settle my head in my palm, elbow on the center console. I feel like I should be more bothered by this, him just taking my phone from me. Especially when I know someone is texting me.

But maybe I’m riding high on the serotonin boost of him going to bat for me.

Ringing fills the air a second later, and alarm zings through me. “Who are you calling?”

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Carter,” Hawke says, his voice loud in the truck’s cab.

“What did I tell you about flirting with my girl,” Jasper drawls. He sounds like his usual relaxed self, but his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and clenched jaw tell another story entirely.

Heat pools low in my belly at his possessive tone. I shift a little in my seat, but I don’t sit back.

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