Page 39 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
“I’m not your girl.”
“Uh-huh,” he says and chuckles as if he’s not convinced. When he picks up his bag, my shoulders all but sag with relief that I’ve gotten him to leave. But just as I expect him to head to the screen door he walked in through, instead he heads toward my room. “So I can take this room, right?”
“What?” Whiplash. But I guess I shouldn’t expect anything different when it comes to him. “No, Jett. The answer is no.”
“It’s no Ritz, but it’ll do.”
Frustrated with how he keeps ignoring me, I slip in my lie. “That’s my room. You can’t—”
“Deliriously happy?” He throws my own words in my face and lifts one eyebrow as a smile toys with the corners of his lips.
“That’s what I said.”
“Then shouldn’t you be in that room?” Jett points his finger to the master suite.
“You are not staying here.” I grit my teeth and avoid his question.
“Do you have something to hide?”
He thinks this is funny. He knows he’s calling my bluff and is going to see how far I’m going to carry this.
“Honey, I’m home,” Grady calls as he walks in the front door. He’s totally joking, but he doesn’t know how perfect his timing or his words are right now.
“I’m in here,” I say.
You’re lying, Jett mouths.
And the minute Grady turns the corner to the kitchen, I grab his face with both of my hands and press my lips to his.
I can feel the shock register through his body in the tensing of his muscles, but then, as I push my tongue gently between his lips, he reacts.
His hands slide around my waist and pull me against every firm inch of him. His tongue meets mine in a fervid dance of desire, and a groan that’s so sexy I almost forget this isn’t real slips from his throat.
His body startles as shock registers again.
And I know that he knows.
Jett’s here.
Christ.
I can still taste her kiss on my lips.
Feel her tongue move against mine.
Hear the hitch in her breath when I stopped questioning why she was kissing me and went all in and kissed her back.
That’s all I can think about as she stands in the kitchen and talks to me in hushed tones, her hands gesticulating wildly for emphasis.
Can’t we just go back to her lips on mine before I noticed that fuck face was standing in my living room attempting to give me the death glare? It was almost as if he was accusing me of stealing his girl. Idiot.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get him to leave,” she says for what feels like the hundredth time as she looks out the window to where Jett paces in the backyard with his cellphone at his ear. I bet he’s trying to look important to intimidate me, and there’s no one on the other end.
Like that’s going to fucking work.
“Are you really making me lasagna?” That’s one way to get my mind off her kiss. And the feel of her tits against my chest. And the surrender of her body as she relaxed against—
“How can you think of food at a time like this?”
