Everything.
I look him over, the cool silk hugging the lines of his body, the gleaming loafers on his feet. He’s so lovely... and so very far away.
Before my pitiful, tattered courage fails, I whisper, “How can I stop you from shutting down?”
Watching so closely, Idorecognize the minute knit in his brow. The almost imperceptible pause in the rhythm of his tapping fingers.
Unable to look at him, I stare at the half-organized bookshelves—the complicated job just started, only to be left wholly unfinished.
I try to explain.
“My whole life, I’ve relied on being able to read people. I’ve become quite good at it, and it’s one of my few skills that has kept me safe.” I swallow hard and look back at Jasper. “I can’t read you at all when you’re like this. I can’t tell if you’re mildly curious or horrified, if you hate me, if you’re judging me...”
“I’m not.” Jasper’s eyes flick over my face. “Eden, this is what I do. It’s my job.”
I bite my lip against a hurt huff, but I don’t entirely stifle it. My chin lifts in a nod that feels only a touch shy of sarcastic. “Well. That’s very professional of you.”
The tension between us becomes thorny.
His lashes veil his eyes. “Why does it matter so much to you what I think?”
My incredulous gaze swings to meet his, the question sitting heavily between us. My chest squeezes until it bleeds.
Finally, in a low voice, I manage, “Youknowwhy.”
Jasper’s tapping stalls entirely. His eyes bore into mine, unwavering and intense in their silent question. I stare back at him until his brow creases, and finally, he sits back in his chair. He turns to look sightlessly into the flames, his fingers perched broodingly over his lips.
It’s my turn to frown at him. “You had to know.”
I can’t help the way I watch him. Constantly. Obsessively. Perhaps he’s so used to drawing eyes he never noticed. It’s in the fluid, deliberate way he moves. How every light and shadow clings to his face. He’s the worst form of addiction. A high I could chase but never have.
Jasper lets out a disdainful breath through his nose.
“You aren’t exactly transparent yourself, Eden.” His furrowed brow deepens pensively. “I saw how you were with Jaykob—with Lucien and Beaumont. You don’t approach me like that.”
The unfairness of it stings my throat.
“I know where I stand with them, Jasper.Yourejectedme, don’t forget. Lucky might continue to beg for your affection after something like that, but I will not.”
His dark eyes fly back to mine, then, limned in fiery light. “That’s what you want? My affection? Eden, you have it. But be careful what you push for, dear girl—you know why I refused you.”
My toes curl into the rug at my feet.
There’s too much silky threat in his voice, and it should make me nervous. Itdoesmake me nervous. But not in the cold, anxious way. This way whispers over my skin with unspoken promises.
I’m both tempted and afraid to push him further.
“You don’t want me. Not like that.” The breathless words are unsteady, unsure.
Something in his posture shifts, becomes a little more sinuous. I have the sudden feeling that I have offended him now. A slight, dangerous smile curves his lips as one brow slashes a bold question.
“Do I not?” He tsks, and his eyes drift down over me in an excruciating, deliberate caress.
I pause, a shiver of heat and horror slipping up my spine.You’re going to make Jasper’s night, Beau said.
As I look down at myself, I realize why.
Beau’s T-shirt is sheer and clings to me hopelessly—it outlines my breasts in sharp relief, presses against my stomach, and hovers around my upper thighs with breathy little flutters. I’m not wearing a bra, or underwear, and both of those facts are painfully obvious.