Page 69 of Shamed
Tipping her head back against my chest, she smiles up at me. “I think everything is wearing off now. I’m getting sleepy. Your chest can be my pillow.” She angles her head to the side, then rubs it up and down like a cat looking for pets. “Mm. Too many clothes, though.”
I might have laughed if I wasn’t so fucking concerned about herbehavior.
Instead, my brows dip. This is nothing like the Jayne I’ve come to know, and there’s no doubt in my mind that she’d ever do such a thing sober.
Still, despite the situation, and despite the innocent comment it was probably meant to be, the darker side of me takes notice of her closeness, her scent, her sounds. And the image she just planted in my head causes an uptick in my pulse.
I can feel the blood in my veins trying to warm.
Lingerie wrapped around smooth curves and long satin gloves flash in my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Her back is pressed to my front, and my hands are still on her hips. The only time I’ve held on to a woman in this position was in my self-defense class. There, I don’t allow even a sliver of my carefully constructed wall to shift, crack, or crumble.
But right now, I feel like I’m peeking over that wall, and it’s a precarious position to be in.
One wrong move by either thought or action will have me tumbling down into dangerous territory—where I belong, but have kept myself out of for this long.
Get a fucking grip. She’s high and probably drunk.
She would have been doing worse than this with no clothes on at the club.
I snap out of it with that thought in mind.
Not wanting to seem like an asshole, I gently push her away from me, then I use my grip on the material of her jacket to guide her instead. “Let’s get you home.”
We step up onto the sidewalk, then continue down the block before stopping. “This doesn’t look like the bus stop.”
I open the passenger door to my pickup and urge her to get in with a hand pressed to her back. “It’s my truck. It’ll be easier and faster.”
“Oh.” Jayne hesitates for a brief moment before she finally climbs in.
I half expected her to still resist me on it and was prepared for a fight. Luckily, she’s in an agreeable mood.
By the time I make it around the other side and get in, she still hasn’t made a move to put her belt on. “Need me to buckle you in, or can you manage?”
A slow shake of her head. “You shouldn’t be nice to me.”
“Why not?”
Facing me, and looking more sober than before, she whispers, “Because I don’t deserve it.”
The broken shards of her voice wrap around my heart and squeeze, puncturing it. She’s usually so closed off and guarded, and I can only guess why she would feel that way.
Perhaps, since she’s been a little more open tonight, she’ll be willing to talk.
I go for it. “What makes you say that?”
Jayne stares at me for a beat, her gray eyes sad, and pretty face solemn, while I wait for an answer.
But then, as if a switch was flicked, her cheeks spread into a grin, and before I can react, she’s lifting a hand and rubbing a thumb between my brows, like she’s smoothing away my deep frown.
“You have unique eyes, you know that? So dark and mesmerizing.” She tilts her head and squints. “But they’re full of secrets.”
I resist the urge to jerk away from her, uncomfortable with her touching me but more-so with her assessment.
Instead, I slowly pull back and face forward, starting the engine. “Put your belt on.”
“Don’t worry,” she says once I’ve started driving. “I have secrets, too.”
