“What the hell, Isabelle.” He pulls the covers over his head.
“It was too dark. Stop bitching.”
“I hate you,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, we covered that already. Where’s your laptop?”
His head sticks out from under the blanket so he can show me his glare. “Why do want it?”
I watch him through narrowed eyes. “I want to see you delete the video.”
With a groan, he rolls his eyes. “If I weren’t in so much pain, I’d kick you out.”
I spot the laptop on his nightstand, so I walk around his bed and grab it. “Here.”
He yanks the device from my hand, but with him lying in bed, I can’t see what he’s doing. I have no choice but to get close to him.
“Move over.” I nudge him with my hips as I try to find space next to him on the mattress.
“Stop being bossy.”
“Stop acting like a child.”
So far, my exchange with Jason today has been surreal. None of his responses have any bite. It’d be easy to mistake what we have for friendship.
He pulls up the video, but instead of deleting it, he watches it again.
“I don’t need to see this. Delete it already.”
“I want to watch it one more time before it’s gone forever.”
I start to get up, but he grabs my hand and drags it under the covers, placing it over his erection. “Help me out here, Isabelle.”
“I’m not going to jerk you off!”
He gives me a puppy-dog look. His eyes are a bit glazed, and his cheeks are flushed. He must be running a fever.
“Please?” he begs.
“No.” I yank my hand free. “Stop being a pest and delete the video, or I’m gone.”
Pouting, he replies, “You’re no fun.”
I press my hand over his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up, Jason.”
“I told you I was dying.”
I watch him delete the video, and I feel a little bit better but not completely. He still knows too much about me. He opens another browser, and I catch a glimpse of his email inbox. Unlike him, I don’t snoop, although perhaps I should.
Instead, I bend over to grab the painkillers from my bag. For whatever reason, he thinks it’s okay to snake his arm around my waist and kiss my back. Goosebumps break out on my arms as desire pools between my legs.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer with words; he simply lifts my shirt and runs his tongue up my spine until he reaches my bra strap.
A shiver runs down my back, and I close my eyes. Damn it. Here he goes again, driving me insane.
“You taste so good, Isabelle. Why is that?” he whispers.