Page 32 of Legacy

“Any of it.” I cut him off. And this time, it’s my cheeks that feel like they’re on fire.

While I purposely picked a spicy scene for him to read, I forgot that particular one had so many participants.

Jesse leans closer.

My heart beats like it’s trying to find a path to him through my ribs.

The air is so thick it’s hard to breathe.

Doeshe sense it?

His lips nearly graze my ear as he leans in and whispers, “Now who’s embarrassed, sweetheart?”

Jesse pulls back, tucking a blonde lock behind my ear. I feel it all the way to my toes, and I don’t doubt he sees me shiver.

I look up at him, still standing in my space. His face hovering. The light overhead sharpens his strong jawline. My mouth dries as his gaze falls to my lips.

Did he start this, or did I?

Does it matter?

“What—” I’m cut off by a knock at the door, and it’s a bucket of ice water dousing the room.

We both step back as the door swings open, and I hurry to grab Bea’s doll before Jesse can stop me.

“I’ll see you back at the house.”

I barely even meet Ghost’s eyes as I push past him. I told Jesse I wasn’t interested in the men here, but it was a lie. My heart is still humming from his whisper, from the smallest graze of his fingers brushing my skin. And there’s nothing good that will come of it.

9

Reagan

Every time my phonebuzzes, a traitorous little flutter kicks up in my chest. Since the incident at the clubhouse a few days ago, Jesse has been checking in more frequently during the day, making sure we don’t need anything. And I can’t help how much I don’t mind hearing from him.

He says he’s keeping better tabs for Bea’s sake, but I’m pretty sure it has to do with him not wanting me to go back to the clubhouse when he isn’t around. He still thinks I’m out of my depth there.

Maybe he’s right.

Jesse’s club doesn’t scare me, but I’ve avoided it for his sake and mine. The girls at the clubhouse made it clear I’m not welcome. It could have been territorial, but the last thing I want to do is cause problems with Jesse when he’s finally warming up to me being here. If I stir up something unintentionally at his clubhouse, he might revert to the cold stalemate we started with.

My excitement cools when I pull out my phone and see it’s not Jesse texting me.

Lincoln: You left town? School starts next week.

I’m tempted to ignore his text like I’ve been doing with the rest of them lately, but I can’t help responding to his obviously low blow.

Reagan: You fired me. Why would I care when school starts?

Lincoln: I was upset. That was a mistake.

Reagan: You seem to be good at making those.

Lincoln: Come on, baby. I miss you.

Reagan: I’m not yours to miss.

Never have been. I can’t pinpoint when he started this altered way of viewing what we are to each other, but that single text is proof of why it’s better I left.

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