Page 30 of Bourbon Deceit
His gaze was intimidating, almost too much to handle. The man was a cocky son of a bitch, but how could he not be with a strong jaw like his and a stance that just screamed “I know how to fuck you hard.” And he had, multiple times.
Feeling uneasy in my silk robe and with the way his eyes were undressing me, I pulled the ends of my robe together and looked up at him with as much confidence as possible.
“What are you doing here?”
Without saying a word, Jett grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my bed. If I wasn’t so far gone from the way he’d looked at me, I would have resisted, but I was weak, I was pathetic, and I craved him. I craved him so damn bad that I wanted to cry. I hated that he had such power over me, that he could turn me into a ball of mush with just a blink of his eyes.
He placed his hand on my cheek and looked me square in the eyes. “My little one, I’m so sorry I left you wondering these past couple of days—”
“That’s right, you’re sorry,” I said, pulling away, getting a little bit of my bravado back. “Do you think it’s fun for me waiting for you, wondering where the hell you are or when you’re coming back?” I held up my hand before he could talk. “I know we’re not in a relationship and I get that, but I’m sorry I just can’t sit around after you fuck the ever-living hell out of me and then be cool with your disappearance. I worry about you, Jett. I fucking care about you, and I think it’s real shitty the way you’ve been treating me. You either like me or you don’t, I can’t do any more of this wafting around, as if the feelings we have for each other, and I know you have feelings, don’t matter. I mean, fuck, Jett. You’re killing me! I feel like I’m bleeding when you leave without a word, when you push me away. It fucking guts me.”
My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath after that mini rant. When I looked back up at Jett, his brow was furrowed and a look of disappointment crossed his features.
“Goldie, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m a . . . uh . . .” He ran his hand through his hair then turned his back on me.
He’s a what? I wanted to shake him and scream at him to finish his sentence, but from the way his shoulders sank and the way his back tensed, I knew whatever he was going to say was going to be extremely difficult for him so I pulled back my anger.
Instead of being a diva and walking out, like I should have, I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his back, giving him comfort. He exhaled sharply and then turned in my grasp. His arms came around my back and pulled me in closer to his chest as he leaned his head down and kissed the side of my temple.
His lips caressed my ear. “I’m a broken man, little one. I was fucked over by someone who I gave my heart to and she stomped on it, broke it in half. She made me feel worthless, used, and I haven’t been able to get over the words she spouted off as she walked out of my house and out of my life.”
“What did she say?” I asked, barely above a whisper. I didn’t want to scare him away because for the first time since he’d told me about his mom, he was actually opening up.
Jett shook his head, denying me. Instead of pushing him, I instead rubbed his chest with the palm of my hand and kissed him on the jaw. His body relaxed under my arms and he drew me in even closer.
“You’re too good for me, Goldie, but to hell if I can let you go.”
“I don’t know what that is supposed to mean,” I answered honestly.
He pulled away and lifted a long, flat jewelry box between us.
“This is for you, my little one.” The way he said my name with such sincerity had my stomach flipping in excitement.
I looked at the box and then back up at him with a smirk. “This isn’t going to be some Pretty Woman moment where I reach into the box and you snap it on my fingers, is it? Because I have to tell you, you will be sorely disappointed. I have cat-like reflexes.”
A small grin showed at the corner of Jett’s mouth. “No, it’s not.”
With that, he opened the box and revealed a very thin chained necklace made of white gold. In the middle was a very small, round gem pendant with a purple center. It was gorgeous.
Not skipping a beat, he pulled the necklace out of the box and unlocked the ends. “May I?” he asked, hovering over my body.
“Yes,” I said breathlessly, turning around for him.
He brought the necklace over my head and rested it on my collarbones. Once the necklace was fastened, the pendant settled right where my neck met my chest and the chain grazed the top of my collarbones. It was borderline choker status, but not quite. My hand landed on the pendant as I turned to look at him.
“It’s gorgeous, Jett. Thank you so much.”
“Do you know what this is?” he asked, his fingers grazed mine so we were both touching the pendant.
“No.”
Jett took a deep breath and said, “In my world, a symbol like this would mean that you’re mine, that by wearing this necklace day in and day out, you are letting everyone know you are taken, that you belong to me and only me.”
Realization set in as my mouth fell open and I felt the necklace again.
“Is this a . . . collar?” I asked, almost flabbergasted by the gesture.
Looking a little sheepish, Jett nodded his head as he gripped the back of his neck with his one hand. The man was nervous, actually nervous. I could not deny myself of this man any longer.
