Page 67 of All Jacked Up

“Things I wished that weren’t,” I replied.

He smiled at me. “You’re safe. Trust me. I make sure of it.”

I knew he wouldn’t put me in any harm’s way; besides, I lived in New York, not the South. It was him I was worried about.

“I hate guns,” I whispered.

“And I hate Fifth Avenue. But, hey, we all have our vices.”

The corner of my lips quirked, and if I wasn’t thinking about the things that could happen to him, I’d have laughed at that.

“Did you want this life? Or did you and Than not have a choice?”

He was silent for a moment before responding, “We’re born into it. This life, the family—it is all we know. It’s in our blood. It’s a bond that I can’t explain. Than is my brother, but the other guys are too. We are raised together. Train together … yeah, I wanted it.” He said the last part as if he hadn’t ever questioned it before. It was just a given. A part of who he was.

He turned to look at me again. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow. Close your eyes. Get some rest.”

I wanted to talk more. Look at him, listen to his voice. But he was right. I needed to sleep.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I probably should. Good night.”

He smiled and looked back at the ceiling. “Good night, Shakespeare.”

Twenty-Two

Ransom

Was there a fucking award for this? Because I deserved it.

Lying in the dark, the only illumination coming from the moonlight spilling in through the curtains, Noa looked like an angel. It hadn’t taken her long to fall asleep. Apparently, my being in bed with her didn’t make her uncomfortable. And why was I here? What was the point of this?

To tempt myself further.

Get as close as I could and not get to touch. Not get another taste.

I needed to go to my room. Get her scent out of my head.

But I continued to lie here and watch her sleep like the psychopath I had become.

If there was a way for me to have her sexually, fuck her, and keep our friendship, I’d do whatever I had to in order to make it happen. Murder, torture, watch that vampire movie where theyglowed and ate animals. I’d do it.

But this was Noa Raines. She deserved more. She deserved that shit she wrote about. Although if a man came along and offered it to her, I might kill him.

Groaning, I ran a hand over my face. This was not good. I had to stop thinking about her like this. She wasn’t mine. She’d never been mine. She was my friend. She made me smile when I needed it. The dark shit always lifted when I texted with her.

If only she had been the slightly smelly, unkempt cat lady I’d made her out to be in my head, this would be so much easier.

But, fuck, at this point, she could go wear a stained robe and buy a litter of cats, and I’d still want her. I enjoyed her. As in I craved being around her. She made me … she made me happy or some shit. It was different.

And the thought of taking her to the airport in the morning was the reason I’d knocked on her door. She’d barely left the room, and I had started missing her already. Needing more of her.

So, here I was.

In her bed. My clothes on, which was a fucking anomaly. I didn’t get into bed with women and not fuck them. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fucked one in a bed.

The last one I’d fucked was on a lounger out by the pool. I’d been so sexually frustrated that I needed relief. It didn’t last though, and it wasn’t fulfilling. There was a void.

Instead of being relaxed, I’d been unsatisfied with the detached experience.

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