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Chapter Four

Aaron flared his nostrils. They were taking too long, especially when he was still reeling from Jett’s confession. He was planning on sleeping with Marlon, not because he wanted to, but for the sake of the club, to secure its reputation. Aaron wouldn’t allow it.

Mary-Sue opened the office door with a coy smile, but it vanished when she looked at Aaron.

“What the hell’s happened?”

“Nothing, can I go in there yet and talk to Jett?”

“I don’t think you’ll be talking once you see him.”

Aaron shook his head, marching up the last few steps.

“I’ll cover Jett’s end of the bar, distract Marlon best I can.”

He didn’t reply, just pushed through the door to the office. It was the second time in thirty minutes he’d been floored, the first time by words, the second by the sight in front of him.

Fuck.

He’d wanted to have a serious conversation with Jett, but the second he saw him in the outfit he’d handpicked, his blood rushed south and his heart started drumming a desperate beat. Jett practically naked was too much to handle. Aaron hurried to close the door so he couldn’t fall down the stairs.

Jett looked down at himself, laughing. “Yep, I look ridiculous.”

He didn’t. He really didn’t. Aaron could barely breathe.

He couldn’t decide between angel or devil, and instead had rushed around the city, picking pieces he’d thought Jett would look good in. There were only three items, and two of them weren’t clothing.

“Are you gonna explain it to me?” Jett said, still looking down at himself, and not at Aaron.

He’d picked out black feathered wings, a black leather choker, and black leather shorts. Minimal, he wanted to see as much of Jett as he could, and the outfit didn’t disappoint. He was staring at Jett’s six-pack, his shoulders, his pectorals, his crotch. He was narrower than Aaron, shorter too. There was no dusting of hair on his chest, but smooth taut skin Aaron longed to run his tongue along.

“You’re a fallen angel,” Aaron said, rubbing his throat. It felt tight. Everything felt tight, and far too hot. It was torture, self-inflicted torture, and he didn’t know why he’d done it. He should’ve dressed Jett in a garbage bag, although he still would’ve wanted to bend him over a desk and make a hole in front of Jett’s ass.

“That explains the wings I guess, but the choker?”

“The devil likes to keep his angel chained up, doesn’t want him to come to his senses and fly away.”

“And the skimpy shorts?”

“The devil’s a massive pervert, everyone knows that.”

Jett laughed again, finally lifting his head to look at Aaron. He’d supplied the basics, but it was Mary-Sue that had really brought the look to life. She’d painted Jett’s chest and neck a shimmering silver, ruffled his brown hair, and penciled eyeliner around his lashes.

Aaron staggered. His crotch felt heavy, like a lead weight, and his head like a helium balloon. Jett looked fucking gorgeous, and he was struggling to handle the lust overwhelming him. His fingers twitched, needing to touch, and his cock was attempting to bust open his zipper. His body was running on sexual instinct while his brain was flagging behind.

“Well,” Jet said, licking his lips. “I guess I better go back down there.”

Aaron couldn’t speak, or move, or do anything other than feel his throbbing cock and his thundering heart. Jett was moving towards the door, and Aaron couldn’t bear to let him go.

His arm shot out, pinning the door closed, trapping Jett inside.

“I can’t let you go downstairs.”

“I did think it was a bit inappropriate, but a deal’s a deal, and the bar will cover me up anyway—”

“No,” Aaron panted.

He would’ve laughed had his body remembered how. All he could do was breathe heavily, and even that was a struggle. Jett, so innocent, so clueless, hadn’t realized Aaron was hyperventilating over the outfit he was wearing, Aaron was having some territorial crisis and was point blank not gonna let Jett go downstairs. The thought of letting others seeing Jett like that, that hot, no way, he couldn’t do it, even if he had to lock Jett in the office overnight.