Page 54 of Hymns of the Broken
Jasper’s hand finds the small of my back, grounding me. “Getting all the shots you need?” he murmurs, voice possessive. “We should get going,” he says, guiding me gently away from the stage. “Gonna load up the bus so we’re ready to leave after the rest day tomorrow.”
As we walk, I can’t help but glance back. Riot is still watching me—grinning like he knows exactly how much trouble he could be. I shouldn’t care, but the rush in my stomach says I do.
***
Back at the bus, we’re almost done packing up. With the echo of Riot’s drums still vibrating in my bones, Jasper shoves the last battered amp case into the bay of the bus. The sunset casts him in gold and bruised shadows, the air thick with the last bits of adrenaline.
He wipes his hands on his jeans, eyes narrowing just a little—calculating, constantly.
“So,” he says, his voice deceptively casual. “Did you get your shots?”
I glance down at my camera. “Yeah. The lighting was perfect.”
He leans closer, the space between us humming. “Got a lot of Riot in there, huh?”
There’s a dangerous tilt to his mouth, something sharp in the way he says Riot’s name. I shrug, feigning innocence. “He was right in front of me. Hard to miss.”
Jasper’s gaze darkens. “You know, he usually doesn’t play that hard.”
My heart thuds, and I try to keep it light. “What, am I his muse now, too?”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You aren’t his anything.”
I raise an eyebrow, testing him. “You jealous?”
He moves even closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “Should I be?”
JASPER
The air’s thick with jealousy, and to make it worse, Riot’s laughter rings out behind me, making every muscle in my body wants to snap. I see red. All I can think about is how easily she gets under my skin, how badly I want everyone, especially Riot, to know she’s not up for grabs.
I move before I can stop myself, boxing her in against the side of the bus, my hand landing flat above her head. She smells like sugar and sweat, wild and tempting, like a demon I’d chase through hell.
I lean down, my lips barely an inch from her ear. My voice comes out rough, the words a threat and a promise. “Maybe I just need to remind you whose attention you really want.”
She lifts her chin, defiant as always. “I never said I wanted yours to begin with.”
“You sure about that? Because back against the wall, you were begging for it, Trouble. Do you think I’ve forgotten how you looked at me? The way you fell apart in my hands?”
Her breath hitches, and I know I’ve got her. I press even closer, my other hand sliding up her side to remind her just how easy it would be to do it all over again. “You can try to keep pretending, Sawyer. But you know exactly who you want. And it isn’t him.”
I throw a glance over my shoulder at Riot, still laughing with his band, but his eyes keep drifting back to us. It makes something feral snap inside me. I drop my voice even lower. “I think I’m done pretending I give a damn who sees.”
I press closer, my lips grazing her jaw, staking my claim right there on her skin. “Let him watch. Let all of them watch. They should know you’re mine.”
I pull back, tilting her chin up, making her eyes meet mine. “You gonna keep testing me, or you want me to really show you how reckless I can get?”
She bites her lip, challenging me with that fire in her eyes. “Maybe.”
I grin. “Careful what you wish for.”
Riot’s voice fades, and then it's just me and her. The only thing keeping me from dragging her onto the bus and showing the whole damn lot what’s mine is the thin thread of self-control I’m about to snap.
She meets my stare, heat blazing in her eyes, mouth curling into a dare I can’t resist. “If you’re so sure I’m yours—.”
Before she can even finish challenging me, my hands find the backs of her thighs and I lift her like she weighs nothing, pressing her into the side of the bus. The metal rattles beneath the impact. She gasps, a sound that makes my vision turn blue at the edges.
Her legs lock around my waist, arms flying up to clutch my shoulders. My mouth crashes into hers, rough and claiming. I kiss her hard enough that she has no choice but to give in, to let everyone within earshot know precisely who she belongs to. I grind into her, just enough, and when she moans into my mouth, it’s like gasoline on a fire.
