Jahleel (28 page)

I guess I answered correctly, because he leaned back in his chair and studied me for a moment before asking, “So, tell me, do you think he was really in love/obsessed with her, or did he just like the
idea
of being in love/obsessed with her?”

Tired of getting drilled, I rubbed my eyes and whined, “I don’t
know
, JK. I usually got C-D in all things Shakespeare.”

Maybe there was a point somewhere in all of this, something he was trying to tell me, but I was too hungry and knackered to rack my brain further about Shakespeare’s mindfuck of plays.

Leaning forward once more, he whispered with a steady air of confidence, as someone not fascinated with an idea, but with the real deal, “Let me tell you what
I
miss, Saskia: I miss those wide, passive, all-consuming grey eyes looking at me. I miss that puckered point on those perfect full lips. I miss how your nostrils flare, the way they turn bright red around the rims when you crave having me inside you. I miss those long lashes, how beautifully dark they are, the way they fan your cheeks when you sleep. I miss your silky smooth skin sliding against mine. I miss your raspy voice. I miss watching you dream about me, whispering my name in your sleep. I miss cuddling with you, laughing with you, teasing you, pissing you off. And most of all, I miss watching your heart.”

Holy crap
.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I got out, “Watching my heart?”

“Yes,” he said definitively, leaning further over to me.

He pressed two fingers to the base of my neck where my collarbone parted, leaving that soft little dip.

“Right here,” he whispered. “I watch your heart right here. Your skin is so delicate, that whether your heart beats once or twice, skips a beat or pounds erratically, this little dip right here moves in sync. It’s fascinating. You’re a rare treat, Sassy.”

Lost for words, I stared back at him. Who knew he was so attentive to detail? So…aware? Half the time he seemed not to give a crap about anything. Yet now he was telling me he missed watching my heart? How the hell do I respond to that?

I fought to keep my breathing under control so my ‘heart’ wouldn’t rat on me. But it was pointless, because he would know I was trying to ‘hide’ my heart. Maybe I should start wearing scarfs. But then, my nostrils also ratted on me, so should I start wearing gas masks, too?

Jahleel dipped his head and chuckled lightly at his own private joke, then glanced back up at me. “You hungry?”

Oh, how bloody hungry I was. Raw. Rabid. “Yes.”

As he stood up from the chair, his eyes read mine, knowing damn well I wasn’t talking about food. “Gather your bearings, fair lady,” he joked, still with his secret humour. “Meet you outside.”

I watched his retreating form as he navigated through the room and spotted Derek’s assistant arch a brow at him. Right as he was about to pass by her, she scuttled to his side. She grabbed his bicep to stop him, speaking the words of a slut no doubt, fluttering her lashes at him.

Feeling eyes on me, I glanced over to Derek and found him watching me with a smirk. Indeed, I’d pretended I didn’t know Jahleel, then snapped at Derek for harbouring him on the set, next I was hyper-bloody-ventilating with him in a corner. Sure, anyone with half a brain would’ve figured it out.

With a roll of my eyes, I waved off Derek and looked back to Jahleel and the eager hoe.

Once Jahleel started his famous lip biting thing, I shot up from the chair and gathered my motherfucking bearings.

Chapter Sixteen

I
met him outside the building.

Straddling a wicked green and black Ninja bike, motor running, he waited.

My ride was right behind him, Thomas holding the door open for me.

Mindful of the last rumour of me having a Russian boyfriend a couple of weeks ago when I kissed Chad publicly, I contemplated my choice of transportation, as rumours would only escalate if I hopped on Chad’s best friend bike and go…where?

Glancing around, I spotted one paparazzi. A stocky old baldy, camera raised to his face, snapping.

At the feel of a hand pressed into my back, urging me in Jahleel’s direction, I turned my head and to see Amanda. Making the decision for me, she snagged my duffel bag and hissed,”Stop trying to be perfect for Lion all the time. Get wild sometimes—like a superstar with tattoos and purple streaks would—and tell the world to sod off. We’re right behind you.”

She was gone before I could respond, jumping in the back of the Escalade. Thomas closed the door behind her, seemingly knowing I’d go with Jahleel despite my hesitation.

Dicking around on his phone, Jahleel waited with easy patience. He, too, knew I’d go with him in the end.

When I traversed over to him, he took the helmet and raised it above my head, warning, “Might feel a bit uncomfortable with that ponytail” before jerking it on.

The ponytail bump pressing against the cushy interior of the helmet was annoying, but not uncomfortable, so I gave him a thumbs-up as he watched me for signs of discomfort.

Understanding, he jerked his head to the side in a manner that meant ‘get on’.

Climbing astride the bike, I wrapped my arms around his middle, thighs pressed up against his, chest to his hard back, heart thudding just because it was
him
.

Jahleel revved the bike once, then turned his head to the side and asked over his shoulder, “You forgot for a minute, didn’t you?”

“Forgot what?” I asked, voice muffled through the helmet.

“That you belong here.”

“On the back of your bike?”

Revving once more, he replied, “And wrapped around me,” before zinging off down the main.

Although Jahleel didn’t ride as manically fast as the last time—probably so Thomas could keep tail of us—the ride was disappointingly short. In no time, he was careening onto a complex on Olympic Boulevard.

“A bowling alley?” I questioned once I was off the bike.

“Rented for the day,” he explained, kicking down the side stand before getting off.

“Is there food, at least? Because I don’t think these weak arms can afford swinging a bowling ball right now.”

“Sassy,” he said with a surprising amount of patience, “I know you’re hungry, I know you’re exhausted, I know you’re sexually frustrated. Yes, there’s food inside. No, you’re not here to bowl. You’re here to eat and relax…”

“And what about the sexual frustration part?”

He studied me for a beat, the corners of his mouth ratting on his fight to suppress a smile.

Looking at him now, hale and healthy, well-rested, well-fed, confidence intact, almost immortal, one would never believe a few weeks ago he was the complete opposite. Now, he looked untouchable, unflappable, every bit as drool-worthy as he’d been before I walked in on Mortal Jahleel.

And I loved him both ways.

Thomas pulled onto the complex just then, and Jahleel glanced over his shoulder at the vehicle, then back at me. “We can visit the sex toy shop afterward.” Tugging my ponytail, he jerked his head to the building. “C’mon.”

I wanted to tell him I had enough B.O.Bs to open my own toy shop and none of them worked. My fantasies were warped. But he was already walking a few paces ahead of me, leaving me to catch up.

When we entered the building together, I stopped dead.

Everyone from my circle was there, from Lion to Zane—eating, drinking, laughing. A mini-party.

Before I could start asking questions, Amanda came up next to me and kissed my cheek. “A stress-free get together. You deserve it.” Then she went off, slapping Twana on her bum and melding into the cheery chattering.

Turning to Jahleel, I arched up a brow. “You did this?”

He shrugged. “Manda called me first, then Lion. Said you’ve been workin’ straight with no breaks and was grumpy, miserable and snappin’ at everyone. And for some ungodly reason, they thought
I
should do something about it.”

Disappointment crept in as all the excitement seeped out. “So, you’re here, did this, because they asked you to, then, yeah?”

His gaze narrowed on me, flickered to the klatch of people, then back to me. “I’m here and did this, because I
wanted
to.”

Typical guy answer. I shook my head, refusing to even waste energy on answering to that, or even rolling my eyes.

The loud, unmistakable cackling of Amy and Jamie got my attention. They were raising their bottles of beers to me in salute.

After giving them a forced smile, I turned back to Jahleel. “Why are they here?”

Confusion clothed his features. “Aren’t they your friends?”

“You fucked
both
of them.”

Jahleel scraped his teeth over his bottom lip in irritation, cast a glance in the giggly sluts’ direction then back to me, head slanted to the side. “So?”

Moving in close to him so we were just a hair’s breadth apart, I tipped up on my toes, eyes almost levelling with his, and hissed, “Fuck. You.”

Pointing to the ground, Jahleel leaned in even closer, our noses almost touching. “I just marked an imaginary threshold. Bitchy Sassy doesn’t cross it, got that? Unless you want me to drag you into one those bathroom stalls and fuck you so hard, you won’t remember who or where the fuck you are when I’m done. Pain, roughness, humiliation, abandonment. I already warned you how I feel about bitchiness.”

The first time he said it, I thought it sounded hot, even contemplated being a bitch more often to see where it would get me with him. But now, recording his seriousness, I realized it wasn’t meant to sound hot, neither was he joking about it.

He honest-to-God didn’t like bitchiness.

I drew back. Lowering down from my tippy toes.

Congratulations to me, I’ve successfully dragged A-hole Jahleel to the surface, after things were going so well, I blew it all to hell.

In spite of that, I
was
pissed about being in the same room with women he fucked, so, maybe I didn’t really give a crap if he was irritated.

My eyes roamed around the vibrant room, searching for Chad. Jahleel wouldn’t invite him after what happened, would he? Of course not.

When I saw no sign of the irresistible part-Russian, I figured it was safe to make my revenge play. “I do hope you invited Chad. It’s been a while…”

At the same time those words left me, I felt the air shift as the presence of someone came up behind me.

Jahleel shot me a look I couldn’t read, nodded at the person behind me and grounded out, “Enjoy,” before stalking off.

“What are you doing?”

At the voice, I spun around and bumped right into Chad.

Shite.
Jahleel
had
invited him.

Chad was dashing as usual, semi-formally dressed. Dark denim, white V-neck T-shirt and a single-button grey blazer, securely buttoned, fitting his narrow build to utter perfection. A rosary chain around his neck. His rock star haircut was no more, as his dirty blonde hair had grown out. Unclipped, untrimmed, tucked behind his ears.

Dangit.

“What?” I asked, once I was done drinking him in.

“You’re using my name to piss him off,” he said without acrimony. “Not cool.”