Page 51

She touches me, and my dick pulses—yup, definitely on the manic side—my breath quickening in anticipation of the pleasure only she can give.
Not that she’ll give me any. The fact she’s touching me is a miracle.
“Did yourfriendsleave?” Nope, that doesn’t sound bitter at all.
Our gazes meet, and I struggle to hide the darkness emanating from my thoughts.
“Yes. You can stop being jealous now.”
I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t… “Where were you when you fell into his arms?”
She cocks her head, confused.
“The night I relapsed.”
Her eyes narrow. “Are we doing this?”
“Tell me.”
“It was four or five in the morning. I was in bed.”
Adrenaline shoots through my veins. “With him?”
“He came into my room after my phone kept ringing.” Her expression turns exasperated. “This isn’t an argument you want.”
Aurora
Jackson leans in,our faces inches apart, a war raging behind his green eyes. “Ricky touches you more than his boyfriend. He doesn’t look at you like a friend. He gazes at you in awe, as if you shit fucking rainbows.”
Anticipation and fear pound in my chest. “You’re getting worked up.”
“You think?” he asks sarcastically.
“Jax—”
“Him or me? Who do you choose?” His eyes search mine, vulnerable but cold.
My impulse is to choose him, a rambled apology on the tip of my tongue, ready to prevent an escalation.
But I refuse to tolerate this behavior any longer.
“What’s happening right now? Is this truly about Ricky? Or us?”
“Choose.” His features and tone become harsher. “It’s playing with my mind, watching you two, knowing he was here when I wasn’t.”
I shake my head and glance away, trying to avoid the outburst I sense is coming. “No. I’m not choosing.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Or are you hiding shit from me?” His nostrils flare and his chest heaves. He’s on the verge of crashing. “I’m here. You don’t need a bodyguard. You don’t even need to work. We should be home with Ethan.”
I push his shoulder, wanting to escape, but he doesn’t budge. His arms cage me in, fingers gripping the edge of the granite, biceps bulging.
“Let me go,” I say, steady and firm. “I’m not hiding anything. Maybe you believe that because it’s whoyouare, but I’ve done nothing wrong. I tried to give you everything?—”
His hand moves swiftly, and I flinch. That fist has smashed through walls beside my head. This time, he’s only gesturing angrily. Still, it’s intimidating.
“You don’t think I know that? You think I wanted this?” He releases a shuddering breath, and his raised voice softens. “I’m sorry. I’ll take it down a notch. Are we together? Can you give me that at least?”
With Jackson, it’s all or nothing, and nothing isn’t an option. Still, I’m not sure I’m emotionally ready. I’m hesitant to slap that boyfriend sticker on someone who was just photographed with other women.