Page 41 of His Custody

“I said move over, Jas. I’m tired and I’m cold. I want to go to bed.”

Goosebumps pricked at her skin and her arms were folded over her chest. Challenge burned in her eyes, daring him to say no. What would he give as an excuse? He’d confirmed they wouldn’t take her away. Of course, he should say it was inappropriate. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t against the law, it was still wrong. But it didn’t feel wrong.

He could count the things he wanted more than Keyne O’Connell sound asleep in his bed, making her piglet snores, on one hand. Given wishing had never brought anyone back from the dead, he’d settle for the next best thing: protecting her, keeping her safe.

The desires warred in his head while she stood there, shivering.

Finally the one he always knew would win out, did. He turned and swung his legs onto the bed, slid under the covers and held them open for her. Keyne crawled up, settled into him until they were nested like spoons and he laid his arm over her. All of her muscles relaxed against him and soon the strange melody of her snuffling filled the air. He breathed in the scent of her hair as he kissed the top of her head.

“Welcome home, Tinker Bell.”

Chapter Sixteen

June

Prom night. Of all the things Jasper had made her do in the service of being a real girl—who the fuck was she, Pinocchio?—this had to be the worst. The hotel ballroom was decked out in ridiculous fashion, tons of black bunting everywhere, and silver stars dripping from the ceiling. Gavin would’ve loved it. Probably would’ve joined the prom committee and made them hang actual constellations instead of the random sprays they appeared to be in.

Gavin.

They’d talked about this night so many times. And in true Gavin fashion, he’d been more excited about it than her. They’d get a limo with all their friends, he’d wear a tux and she would wear a big poufy princess dress, and when the night was over... Well, that wasn’t worth thinking about, because she wasn’t here with Gavin, she was here with Elliott Bishop. Who she suspected has asked her on a dare, and the only reason she hadn’t refused right away was that she’d been so stunned, she couldn’t think of anything to say, and Gabby had said yes for her.

It’s possible she could’ve taken it back, but then she would’ve been the only one of her friends with no date, and there was only so much being thought of as pathetic a girl could handle. So here she was, on the arm of Elliott Bishop. It could’ve been worse. Elliott wasn’t horrible. He was just bland, and young, stupid, and completely lacking charm.

The best part of her evening so far had been seeing the vein in Jasper’s temple pulse when Elliott had picked her up. It was probably wrong but it had delighted her that Jasper had seemed... jealous? No, couldn’t be. What did Jasper have to be jealous of Elliott for? Jasper was far better looking in his craggy way. That was probably just wishful thinking on her part, linked in no way whatsoever to reality.

Even though she could swear sometimes that the way Jasper looked at her wasn’t just protective but maybe possessive? A girl could dream. And she had. Oh, had she ever. It started out the same way each time. With her back in Jasper’s bed, him curled around her in the early silent hours, with his hardness digging into her back. But instead of running off to the shower as soon as he woke, he’d stroke her arm instead, smooth her hair away from her neck and start to kiss her, from just behind her ear all the way to her collar bone.

Which is when she’d realize she wasn’t wearing any clothes. She was naked in Jasper’s bed, although her brain had decided not to take the same liberty with him, and he was still wearing his boxers and his T-shirt.

He’d lick, nibble, and yes, outright bite her there, sinking teeth into her shoulder until it hurt, but only in a way that made her want to hurt more. Not in the same way she’d want to hurt when she’d cut herself, but in a strangely pleasurable way. It made her feel vital, fragile as well as strong, and possibly best—and most wickedly of all—owned. As if she was his, and he would sink his teeth into her flesh, mark her skin, perhaps even draw her blood because he wanted to and every inch of her belonged to him.

And when he’d finally release her, he’d roll her onto her back and pin her down with a fistful of hair before claiming her mouth in a brutal kiss. She wouldn’t have a choice, she’d have to kiss him back, but the truth is, she didn’t want one.

The thought of it made her insides swirl. With shock, with love because she loved Jasper more than anyone else alive, with embarrassment because if Jasper knew, he’d let her down easy—tell her she was beautiful and would make some guy very happy someday, just not him because that wasn’t okay. And somewhere in there were the first blatantly sexual feelings she’d had since her family had died.

It had taken a long time for her sex drive to dig out of the rubble of depression and grief and frustration and loneliness, but there it was, and of course it couldn’t have attached itself to someone reasonable like Elliott Bishop, but instead had latched on to Jasper. Which was frankly embarrassing and she should keep her face shut about it. Because what Jasper didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and she didn’t know what she’d do if he wouldn’t touch her anymore.

So instead, here she was in the middle of the dance floor, swaying awkwardly with Elliott, who couldn’t seem to decide what to do with his hands and who’d stepped on her dress more than once. He was holding her, awkwardly, and it made her want to go home to Jasper, and be held by someone who meant it. Maybe if she left right now, they could do some crosswords together after Jasper set an unnecessary but comforting fire.

She tried peeking over Elliott’s shoulder to see if there was a clock anywhere in sight, but there wasn’t. Noticing her distraction, Elliott leaned down and spoke in her ear, trying to make himself heard above the too-loud music.

“Want to get out of here? Some place quieter?”

Keyne nodded without thinking, and his face lit up. Ugh, what had she just agreed to? She’d just meant to maybe take a walk out into the lobby, away from all the finery-clad bodies and their enthusiastic dancing, all of their goddamn teen spirit. But no teenage guy looked that excited about the prospect of chilling in a hotel lobby. He’d clearly—

“Cool.” He slipped a hand into the breast pocket of his tux, and Keyne had to keep from rolling her eyes when he extracted a hotel keycard. Because of course he’d gotten a room. And of course he was expecting something to happen that was worthy of the few hundred bucks he’d likely shelled out for it. “I got a bottle of champagne, too.”

Could he be any more cliché? If there were rose petals on the bed, she was going to vomit. Although maybe if he’d gotten some chocolates, too, they could sit on the king-sized bed he’d no doubt sprung for, eating sweets, drinking champagne, and watching something stupid on pay-per-view. It wouldn’t be so bad. Even lackluster Elliott couldn’t ruin a Marvel marathon.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

***

The door creaked open. He’d sent Ada away, told her he’d wait up for Keyne himself. Partly, he wanted to see her in her dress again. She’d been so fucking gorgeous it had been all he could do to not drag her to her room and lock her in there until she was of an age he could reasonably and respectably have his way with her.

The answer to that question, however, was never. It would never be okay for him to pursue her the way he’d come to want her. So he’d smiled instead, and wished her and that smarmy fuck a good time.

He hated thinking about that kid’s hands roaming over her as they danced, or in the back of his car. What high school senior needed a Porsche, anyway? He should’ve insisted Edwin drive them. Fuck that, he should have told her she wasn’t allowed to go. But prom was a rite of passage and damn it, she was going to experience every single motherfucking last one of them. It was the least he could do.

---