Page 39 of Broken Lines

“No! That is not how I imagine your dick!”

Shit.

“So, youareimagining my dick.”

“Oh my God, can you stop?”

His lips curl as one brow raises.

“That’s a no on the coke?”

“Yes,” I mutter tersely. “That’s a no.Thanks.”

He rolls his eyes as he turns away into the kitchen.

“Let me guess. Daddy is a cop? A suit? No…that’s not it. Daddy is—”

“My dadleft, actually,” I blurt.

Immediately after, I regret volunteering that information to a needling asshole like Jackson. As if he needs more ammunition to use on me, and here I am offering up my soul to the devil on a silver platter.

And, predictably, his lips curl deviously.

“So, that’s a yes on daddy issues, then?”

I glare at him as I bring one hand up to flip him off.

“Outstanding,” he growls hungrily.

I hate that it makes my pulse beat quicker.

Jackson slips back into the kitchen. I turn, scanning for a place to sit. The couch with a guitar leaned against it is covered with blankets, pillows, and…looks slept in.

Recently.

The thought of sitting where this devil has been sleeping is…body-heating.

In a way it very much shouldn’t be.

Instead, I stand there, shifting in my still-wet boots, feeling the damp denim cling to my legs as I turn to look out the windows at rolling black clouds rapidly swallowing the sun. I might be in the devil’s island laid. But,damnis it pretty, in a dark way.

I give a quick glance into the kitchen to see his back to me. My bag slips off my shoulder, and before he can spot me and accuse me of trying to spy on him or something, I pull my phone out and snap a few pictures of the view. Then a wider shot of the windows themselves. Then an even wider one, showing the full “genius mess” of the space.

Then I slip my phone back into my bag and do my best not to think about the fact that I’ll be spending the night here, under this roof, withthisman.

“You hungry?”

His voice commands from the kitchen. I turn away from the windows at the sound of it and raise a curious brow.

“Yeah, actually,” I exhale, feeling my stomach rumble as I head towards him. “Thank you.”

Jackson barks a cold laugh.

“I wasn’t taking your order, sweetheart.”

I step in the kitchen to see him pulling things out of the fridge. When he glances back and sees me standing there, he nods his chin at what looks like a pantry.

“There’s peanut butter and jelly…maybe some bread in there. Go nuts.”

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