Page 63 of Jett

“I love the way this dress clings to all your curves. I love ...” His eyes trail over me again and he reaches out, his fingers hovering around my shoulder. I brace myself for his touch. It’s like he wants to devour me. A low, thrumming vibration building between my legs.

Heat rolls off his body. I feel as if wanton lust has spread all over my body like an essential oil. “If I shouldn’t waste my time on boys like him, who should I waste my time on?”

“Someone who knows what he’s doing. Someone who would make it worth your while.”

“I didn’t dress for him.”

“No?” His gaze darkens and the intensity in his eyes are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I don’t trust myself to breathe.

“Would you dress for me?” His voice is thick with something unspoken.

The tension between us zaps, wrapping around us like the sultry heat of the night. A fire ignites inside me, and before I can stop myself, the words slip out. “I would dress however you wanted me to.” In this moment, I would. In this raw and dangerous moment, I’d do anything he asked me to do.

He drains his glass. My desperate confession hangs in the air like a challenge. Stupid girl. What did I go and say that for? More importantly, why is he asking me this? Intense and wickedly dirty thoughts flash through my head.

“I need more whiskey,” he rasps, going behind the bar and pouring himself more.

“Shouldn’t you go to sleep?” I’m trying hard to ground myself, to break the spell we seem to be under. I walk over to the bar stools. I need to sit down and my knees seem to be made of jelly, and I’m scared they’re going to give any moment now.

“No.”

I set myself down and watch the amber liquid glinting in his glass under the low lights. Something has shifted. Jett is always so controlled, always in command, but tonight … tonight, he feels loose, like there’s something untamed lurking beneath the surface. The boundaries between us slip away in this moment and something feral has unleashed. And for once, I don’t care.

Though I should. I suddenly recall that I’m taking Brooke to the Crystal Caves tomorrow. My head needs to be in the right place. I’m a responsible nanny. “I should go.” I slide down from the bar stool and start to walk away.

“Haven't you forgotten something?” he growls.

I turn around at the sharpness of his tone.

“Your shoes, Miss Summers.”

“Oh.” I take a step back and pick up my shoes, feeling foolish. Standing in front of him, holding my heels, I ask, “Is everything okay? You seem … different.”

Also, he called me Miss Summers. He never calls me that. What is going on? He takes a long drink of whiskey, and I realize he’s not himself. “You’ve had too much to drink,” I say softly, suddenly worried about him. Has his father called? Or maybe he’s missing Alicia.

Then another thought crashes into my head, bringing that humiliating moment back. I wonder if it's because of me. Because of what happened yesterday. I put him in a terrible situation. Without thinking, I drop my shoes and flop down on a bar stool. “I’m sorry about what happened,” I blurt out.

His expression changes, his eyes narrow. “Sorry for what, exactly?”

I shake my head, feeling embarrassed. “For, um … the other day. In the water, when I-I—” I stop, unable to find the right words.

“Spit it out.”

“I-I appreciate ... I mean I'm thankful that you saved me …” I begin, “but I mean … the part after that. The part where I—” I glance up at him and something dark burns in his eyes. “Where I-I …” I begin to stammer again. Surely he knows what I am talking about?

“The part where I saved you from drowning?” he prompts.

“I appreciate you saving me. I mean … what happenedafterthat.”

His perplexed expression has me doubting myself. Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe I didn’t grope him. “Oh.” He stares up at the ceiling and nods. “Not a problem.”

Heat rushes to my face. He hasn't said it, but I'm sure he knows what I'm talking about. When I touched him. “I don’t know why I did that,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“I'm just glad you didn't drown on my watch, Cari.”

“That would have been traumatic for Brooke to see.”

“Traumatic for me, too.”

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