Page 122 of Jesse's Girl

Walking back to the bar, I remember the last photo I sent Jesse and tap out another text.

Me

I swear to God if you say “it was cool” about this one, I will cut you

Three dots start jumping and I wait, holding my breath.

Jesse

Jesus I think my heart just stopped

Might need another shower

I grin, releasing a sigh of relief, kicking myself all the same.

Oh, I’m so fucked.

At two a.m. sharp, Jesse’s eyes lock on mine through Carnival’s glass front door. I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff—heart racing, muscles tight, and nerves firing in a desperate attempt to avoid falling. A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and I know I’m losing this fight.

Because Christ on a bike, Jesse looks fuckable right now, and the heat simmering in his gaze lays me bare.

Oh, my God. How am I this starved for him when we’ve only been apart for a day?

His lips are moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying through the glass. Catching myself staring, I snap out of my pornographic trance and finally unlock the door.

“You okay?” he asks on the back of a confused-sounding laugh, reaching a subtle hand to squeeze my hip as he moves past me into the darkened restaurant. Electricity zings through my core from that one touch, fueling the warmth already there.

I flick the deadbolt again, trying to ignore how good he smells.

“Uh, yeah,” I reply, my voice coming out a bit breathless.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asks.

“Uh, Theo finished up already, and Ros left me the keys so I could lock up.” I don’t want to talk about work—not when Jesse has that fucking smile trained on me, the glow of the streetlights illuminating the angle of his jaw. I want to bite it.

“Anyone else in the kitchen?” He scans the place.

My gaze falls to his neck. “No. Just us.”

“Well, shit.” His eyes trace down my body, leaving heat in their wake.

“Don’t get any big ideas,” I caution, gesturing to the floor-to-ceiling windows separating us from the street outside.

He steps toward me, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Ada, it’s two in the morning. I highly doubt we’d have an audience.”

I scoff. “Didn’t realize I’d agreed to a performance.”

Who am I fucking kidding? He could fuck me up against that window if he wanted to.

“No?” he asks as he steps closer still, one brow raised. “Because that picture you sent me of your perfect ass… was quite the fucking show.”

I exhale and cut my eyes away, suddenly self-conscious.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His voice rumbles deep.

“You really liked that photo, huh?” I tease.

He reaches out to brush the hair back from my forehead. “I did. But even before the photo. It’s been killing me to be away from you all day.”

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