Page 25 of Chasing the Flame (The Sacred Flames Of Ruin #1)

I’ve wanted to go to him and offer comfort, but I don’t know how he’ll respond, and I don’t want to make anything worse.

There’s also the fact we’re still not alone.

Though Matt and Tony left several hours ago, Elliot and Lucy are taking their time.

They’re enjoying each other’s company, ours, and the night itself.

I’ve never met anyone quite like Lucy.

She has a quiet kind of strength that saturates the air and draws you in. Elliot seems smitten with her, and Jettson seems to enjoy seeing his father happy. It’s written all over his face, even if he hasn’t said much.

Lucy has steered most of the conversation, taking an interest in my life in New York and the book I’m writing.

I love that she loves horror, gothic, witchy, and everything else, just like I do.

We’ve bonded over the last hour, and she’s already texted her book club to let them know about my novel.

A flush climbs my neck as she talks me up, even going as far as handing me her phone and telling me to plug in my number.

I do, and we plan to grab lunch and get our nails done on Monday.

My eyes flit to Jettson, finding him watching me with rapt attention.

There’s approval in his gaze, and something else.

Something that feels a lot like longing and has me squirming in my seat.

I’m halfheartedly paying attention as Lucy and Elliot say their goodbyes, squeezing me tightly before kissing my cheek.

The tenderness of their actions surprise me, but I melt into it all the same.

As they walk around the corner and into the darkness, I feel the moment the air shifts. Tension heightens to an uncomfortable degree, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

I shift in my seat, feeling the heat of Jettson’s eyes on me. “That was some party,” I whisper, not meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, Dad can be a bit much sometimes. He likes you, though, I can tell. So does Lucy.”

Something about that sentence sends a wave of pride through me, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve passed an unspoken test. “I’m glad,” I say, and I mean it. I’m happy they liked me .

“Come on,” Jettson says. He rises from his seat, grasps my hands, and pulls me toward him with a gentle tug.

“Where are we going?” I ask, excitement coursing through my veins. He doesn’t answer, of course, preferring to keep his secrets. I don’t fight the grin spreading across my face, and I doubt I could even if I tried.

Jettson leads me through a thicket of taller grass and undergrowth, the flashlight on his phone the only light aside from the full moon.

Towering trees surround us, and I can hear the crickets chirping in the night.

An owl hoots from a nearby perch, the sounds of the forest swallowing our footsteps as we make our way to our destination.

It’s a peaceful kind of quiet, and I don’t have an urge to fill the void with silence.

I’m comfortable in Jettson’s presence, probably more comfortable than I’ve ever been with anyone else.

It’s a fact I haven’t quite fully addressed, so I shove it down and screw the lid on tight, pushing it aside to examine later.

After several minutes, we reached a clearing filled with river rocks, two oversized chairs, and a fire pit overlooking the lake. My breath hitches in my throat, and my eyes scan the night sky. “Jettson, this is…beautiful,” I say breathily. “Oh! I can see everything.”

The expansive night sky is filled with purples and deep blues, littered with twinkling stars. I can see several familiar constellations and the luminous full moon, and just as I find another one, a shooting star careens across the sky. It’s utterly magnificent.

“I figured this would be a nice way to end the night. I’ll start a fire, and I’ve got some stuff to make s’mores…if you’re interested, of course,” he says, and I turn to thank him for being so thoughtful.

Only...

Seeing him standing there, staring at me with such unabashed desire? It turns my legs to jelly, rooting me to the spot. Lava pools in my core, igniting and fanning the flames, flooding every vein in my body. The words die on my lips as he invades my space.

Pine, sandalwood, and whiskey assault my senses, and it takes everything in me to stay firmly rooted to my spot. “You deserve nights filled with peace,” he says quietly, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Tears well in the corners of my eyes, and I know this small gesture will stay with me for the rest of my life.

A pesky tear slides down my cheek, Jettson smiles and swipes it away with his thumb before moving away.

The moment he does, my heart does a little flip-flop in my chest, followed by a pang of regret so sharp it steals my breath.

I hate this feeling, like the world is tilting and changing before my very eyes, and I can’t stop it. I’m not even sure that I want to or that I should.

What’s worse? I don’t even feel the slightest bit of guilt about being here with him. I should… but I don’t. The truth? I feel like I’m exactly where I should be.

With that thought in mind, I sit and watch Jettson get to work, forcing my mind to quiet. He moves quickly, and in minutes the fire is blazing, and marshmallows are roasting in the flames.

There are so many things I want to say to him. Questions are burning in my mind, but I can’t bring myself to break the comfortable silence. It’s so fucking peaceful.

It’s like he reads my mind, too. He smiles at me, holding me captive in the oceanic depths of his gaze. For a moment, everything around me stills. The world goes quiet, and all I see is him.

It’s fucking intoxicating.

Ultimately, he breaks away first, returning his attention to the marshmallows.

He pulls a fancy-looking poker out of the fire, inspecting his work.

Satisfied, he grabs two graham crackers and a slab of chocolate, smashing the marshmallow in the middle—my mouth waters at the gooey goodness he holds in his hand.

Jettson reaches the treat toward me before pulling the second marshmallow out of the fire. After he creates his own sandwich, he grins and holds it out to me, saying, “Cheers.”

I laugh, and smack my sweet against his, “What are we celebrating?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact you survived my dad?”

A snicker escapes me, and I cough in a poor attempt to cover it up. “You leave that man alone, he’s an angel,” I say, taking a bite of the s’more and batting my eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.

Jettson snorts, “Of course you’d think that.” He shakes his head, then devours his s’more in two bites. After finishing, he leans back in his chair and gazes at the night sky.

I work on finishing mine, practically moaning when the last bite enters my mouth. “That was so good. I haven’t had one of those since I was a kid.”

“Me either,” he admits with a grin, his gaze dropping to my lips. Jettson gulps, “You have a little something…there.”

His thumb grazes the corner of my mouth, swiping at a little bit of chocolate. His touch sends an electric current racing through my body. I suck in a sharp breath, and I’m sure he can hear my heart as it gallops in my chest.

Jettson’s eyes darken, his grin sinfully wicked as he sucks the chocolate off his thumb.

My pussy throbs, an intense ache centering directly in my core.

I’m imagining how good it would feel to have his mouth on my nipples, his tongue circling the pink peaks.

I squeeze my thighs together, trying to hide my growing arousal.

I can’t stop this pull and I don’t think I want to.

We’re so close I could reach out and thread my fingers in his hair. I’m dying to, burning with the need to touch him. The fire crackling in the background has nothing on the tension that oozes into the air around us.

It’s electrifying…distracting…dangerous.

I feel like Icarus, flying too close to the sun.

I know the moment I give in, my entire world will go up in flames.

But I don’t fucking care. I don’t give myself a chance to second-guess it.

I shift in my seat, moving to the edge, and lean toward him.

Jettson stills, watching me in complete fascination as I close the gap between us.

My hand moves of its own accord, tenderly cupping his cheek. I slide my fingers into his hair, growing bolder with each passing second. He doesn’t stop me—it’s like he’s letting me call the shots.

We’re lost in one another, both of us soaking up every single second. A nervous energy swirls in my stomach, but it’s not enough to deter me. I lean in, closer and closer, my lips parted—

The sound of the imperial death march blaring from my phone shocks me so badly that I jump, accidentally headbutting Jettson. “Fuck!” I shriek, clutching my head, and he swears, groaning as he clamps his hand across his nose.

I give him a sheepish look and dig my phone out of my back pocket with my free hand.

It’s Luke. My heart starts thumping wildly, but for an entirely different reason.

Fear coats my tongue, and I swallow hard before answering the phone.

“Hey!” My tone feels forced and has a false ring to it.

I grimace, waiting for Luke’s voice to come across.

It never does.

Muffled music blares in my ear, and my heart plummets to my stomach. A woman’s shrill laughter rings in the background, followed by a groan that sounds like it came from my husband, and finally, sounds of movement .

“You…I’m…fuck, Amelia…that…so good…yes…” The garbled words are enough to send my pulse skyrocketing, and anger flares brightly in my chest, scorching everything in its path.

I end the call before I hear anything else. The snippet is enough. It must be written all over my face, because Jettson’s mood shifts instantly. He gets up, wiping a little blood from his lip, before tossing a bucket of water on the fire.

And just like that, our night is ending and I’m kicking myself for answering the damn call.

Then, I look down, seeing the texts I missed while we were celebrating.

There are several, one from my mother, one from Cora, and a text from Luke telling me he’ll be at a business dinner for the night.

I snort and swipe away the pesky tears streaking down my cheeks.

Tears I didn’t even realize were falling.

Then, I swipe up, and the final one strikes a chord of panic within me, terror clawing its way into my heart and burrowing there with force.

Unknown: I’d like to chat. I think it’s time we met face to face.

There’s a picture attached, and I only hesitate a second before opening the full text. Pure rage swells in my chest, freezing everything in its wake. It’s a deadly kind of anger that feels so powerful and consuming, I know I’ll never return from it.

“That fucking bastard …” I whisper, staring at the image like I can make it disappear with sheer willpower alone.

It looks like it’s been shot from a window, and white curtains blur the edges of the frame. Luke is fucking someone with blonde hair, but I can’t see her face. Her ass and body are pressed against the window, her legs wrapped around his waist.

My ears start ringing, muffling everything around me.

It doesn’t register when the phone slides from my hand, nor when Jettson’s concerned expression fills my line of sight.

Everything around me seems to stand still, and I can feel every single nerve ending in my body lighting up like a fucking Christmas tree.

Panic rears its ugly head, but it doesn’t matter. The fire coursing my veins doesn’t stop, burning everything in its way. It floods my bloodstream, my body igniting in response.

Searing white light explodes from within me, consuming every single fiber of my being. I vaguely hear Jettson in the background, his yelps of pain, the swearing…but it’s not enough to pull me back from the brink.

Darkness swarms the edges of my vision, settling in my brain like a hazy fog. I don’t fight it, I couldn’t if I tried. No, I sink into it, letting it devour me whole.