Page 15 of Jett in Jeopardy

“Maybe he was scoping the place out first,” I said, though it sounded unconvincing even to me.

“Maybe,” Sawyer said, sounding unconvinced. “Except he’d been in here a month earlier taking pictures of you while you were asleep.”

That crawling feeling intensified until it felt like tiny frozen bugs were scurrying over every inch of my skin.

“Shit! Maybe youshouldcall the police and tell them about the pictures on your phone,” Grier said.

As creeped out as I was by the idea of someone taking pictures of me while I slept, going to the police had about the same appeal as extensive dental work without the numbing. “There’s no point. Those pictures were taken months ago, and if we went to the police now, they’d just tell us to change the locks and invest in an alarm system, which we’ve already done. We’ll be fine.”

Chapter Six

Brody

Everytimethedooropened, I looked up as if my gaze was magnetically drawn to the entry. And just like the other one hundred times I watched the entrance to The Dunes, it wasn’t Jett coming in.

I ignored the fissure of disappointment burrowing into my chest and dropped my attention back to the drink I was making. Christ, what the hell was wrong with me? I pretty much talked myself out of doing anything more with Jett, deciding it wouldn’t be fair to either of us and yet, here I was, watching out for him like some lovestruck teenager.

I was a thirty-six-year-old man. I needed to grow the hell up and start acting my age.

The bar was busy on a Friday, and the energy was high. There were only a couple more weeks until Christmas break, and the semester wrapped up at the university. Between burning off steam during finals and some classes already wrapping up for the year, the crowd at The Dunes had high energy.

I slid the drink across the bar before moving on to the next three orders, and while pouring the drinks, my gaze kept sliding to the door. It was nearly eleven. Jett would normally be here by now, especially on a Friday night.

Maybe he’d been put off by what we’d done this morning. He hadn’t looked put off. He hadn’t appeared hesitant or uncertain went he’d bent over the arm of the sofa and offered up his ass to me—or when I turned those round globes pink, and he’d been grinding his cock into the armrest, desperate to come. No, he’d definitely been into it.

Just the memory had my jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight in the crotch. Maybe it was better that he didn’t come in.

I slid the drinks across the bar to the respective customers. As I moved on to the next group, my gaze snagged on a familiar sight—Jett. I somehow missed him arriving. He was talking to some guy. Not just some guy, I realized. Jett was talking to thesameguy who’d offered to take him home last night, leaning closer to the guy to hear him over the thud of the music. Anticipation and irritation warred inside me.

I took the next group of drink orders, then went through the motions of making them. I don’t know why the sight of Jett with some guy had me grinding my teeth. It’s not like I hadn’t seen him flirt with other men before, and it’s not like I was jealous or had any right to be, especially since I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to go any further with him than we’d already gone. He was too young. I wasn’t interested in anything outside of sex with anyone. Why complicate things?

Though, if I were looking for someone who just wanted to fuck and not get all bogged down in feelings, Jett wouldn’t be the worst choice in the world. In the years he’d been coming in, I couldn’t think of anyone he’d dated seriously. I doubted he’d be looking for anything long-term, either. Besides, in another four or five months, he’d be done with school and on his way back to wherever he came from.

Was I talking myself into Jett Feilding?

I looked up from the drink I was making, my eyes locked with Jett’s. The guy from last night was still talking to him, but I would have bet good money that Jett wasn’t hearing a word the man said.

A slow grin spread over Jett’s face, mischievous and filled with filthy promise, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to drag him upstairs, peel him out of those skin-tight black pants and almost sheer shirt and bury myself inside him. I knew right then that there was no way in hell I’d be letting him go.

“A little strong, don’t you think?” Cilla said, snapping me from my thoughts.

I looked down at the drink I’d been pouring and realized while I’d been eye-fucking Jett, I’d poured enough vodka for three drinks in one glass.

“Shit.” I dumped the contents and started again.

“Busy night.” I looked up at Jett standing next to the bar, that knowing grin still curling his mouth, leaving me with the almost desperate need to nip at his full bottom lip.

I forced my gaze back to what I was doing, so I didn’t overpour again. Bad enough, I’d done it once. Gaping at Jett, I didn’t think I could live with the embarrassment of doing it a second time.

“Wasn’t sure you’d be feeling up to coming in tonight?” I’d been surprised he hadn’t been more hungover even before he left my place this morning.

“I feel fine, except…” He hesitated, and I looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes dark under the bar’s low light. “I’m kind of frustrated.” He propped his elbows on the bar and leaned closer until his mouth almost brushed my ear. “I still haven’t come, and I’ve been so,sogood.”

My cock hardened instantly, and I’d never been so grateful for the bar shielding from sight. Grinning again, Jett leaned away from me. Fuck, he was gorgeous. I’d always thought so. That was half the reason I refused to engage when he’d all but thrown himself at me. The smooth, almost delicate lines of his face, his dark hair, a wild tumble of messy waves, and those light hazel eyes. I knew that if I let myself risk a taste of him, I would want more.

I’d been right.

I fished the keys for my apartment out of my jeans pocket and tossed them to Jett. He caught them clumsily and looked at me, confused.

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