A protest rose in her throat at being ordered around. She choked it back when she glanced at the map, summoned what she remembered of the level, and realized that would give her a better advantage than what she’d planned. “Fine. But not because you said to.”
He laughed. “Okay.” Every few seconds, as gunfire erupted, she flicked her gaze to his half of the screen. The two different styles were a sharp contrast, but within minutes they’d met at their first rendezvous point.
He continued to issue orders, and her protests faded when she realized each was in line with what she preferred to do. They slid through the level quickly and smoothly. As each new portion of the map loaded, her pulse increased another notch, partly from the mounting adrenaline in game, and partly from the brush of his shoulder against hers every time one of them jerked in time with the movements on screen.
His leg pressed into hers when he adjusted his weight. On-screen, she choked out the guy in the shadows who had been about to shoot Ethan. He let go of the joystick long enough to squeeze her knee. “Nice shot.”
She couldn’t hide her pleased grin at the genuine praise. He hadn’t sounded surprised, just grateful she’d pulled it off. Seconds later, his hand was back on the cordless device, and he sniped someone several feet to her right, out of her reach.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Ditto. Thanks.”
Bullets flew, and her skin flared to life with each tap from him. The final-level fight loomed in, and he barked out more commands. Her heart threatened to tear from her ribcage with every near miss and every bad guy eliminated.
They took out all minions, and finished off the boss. A series of unlocked achievements flashed up on screen. Flawless level play—no player damage taken. Flawless co-op play.
“Fuck yeah!” He tossed his controller on the coffee table, and turned to face her. “That was amazing. You were brilliant.”
“I guess you were pretty good too.” Her teasing laugh died, when she realized how intently he studied her, brown eyes trying to pry into her soul.
“Christ, you’re gorgeous.” He rested a hand at the base of her neck, and his thumb caressed her cheek. “Beautiful, and you know how to handle a joystick.”
The direct compliment tied her thoughts in knots, and she fumbled for a response. “It makes a difference when I’ve got the right partner.”
“Told you we’d play well together.” His voice dropped an octave. He dipped his head, and crushed his mouth to hers. It wasn’t a hesitant kiss. He plunged in with a hunger and intensity that stole her breath and dragged a whimper from her.
He claimed her lips, nipping and sucking, his tongue diving into her mouth to dance with hers. Her nipples tightened, aching against her bra. A tiny voice whispered this was a bad idea, and she shoved it aside. She dug her fingers into his chest, and traced the definition under his T-shirt. When he tangled his fingers in her hair and yanked, the oxygen stole from her head until she thought she might float away.
The scent of his body wash—clean and sharp—filled her thoughts. He tasted amazing. He moved his free hand to her hip, then shoved the edge of her T-shirt up, dragging the hem over her skin.
She groaned against him. This was incredible. The tiny voice of protest whispered louder. Pushed cruel thoughts into her head. Reminded her she didn’t know anything about him, and she couldn’t cross this line. Fucking voice of reason. She pushed him back. “Stop.”
He pulled back, hands falling away and narrowed eyes locking on hers. His lips were swollen, and his breathing ragged. Did she look the same? Part of her itched to reach up and trail a finger along his chin. Memorize the stubble. Close the distance between them again. She swallowed the urges back, trying to smother them with reason.
“What did I do wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head, not sure if she could find the right words to explain herself. She wasn’t even sure she understood her own reasons—how was she supposed to tell him? Every inch of her wanted to finish what they’d started, so why couldn’t she?
He took a deep breath and then another, before scooting back enough to put some space between them. “I won’t ever push you, if you tell me to stop”—each word sounded strained, as if he were forcing it through a filter—“but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one enjoying that. You don’t owe me anything, but an explanation might be nice.” He shifted on the couch, and adjusted his jeans.
More disappointment and embarrassment flooded her when she caught a glimpse of the large bulge outlined on his upper thigh. She dragged the words to the surface. “I don’t date gamers.” Even as the explanation flowed out, she realized how weak it sounded. “Besides, we’re roommates. Not lovers or dating, or anything else. We can’t just screw around; that’ll make things awkward between us.” Like that hadn’t already happened.
He pursed his lips, and raised his eyebrows high enough they almost reached his hairline. “First of all, you think this is going to be less awkward? Second, you’re really going to lump me into a generic category like that?”
He had a point. What she said made no sense. Every bit of her ached to close the distance again. Except the mood in the room had shifted. An icy wall grew between them now. “You asked. That’s my answer.”
He stood, adjusted himself again, and leaned in, mouth near her ear. “Fine. Not until you’re ready. But unless you tell me to back off completely, I’m going to keep trying until you let me in or tell me stop.”
His words warmed her far more than his warm breath on her skin.
“I need to get back to work,” she forced herself to say.
“That didn’t sound like ‘back off’ to me.”
She pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “I have a review to write.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Good luck.”
****
Someone knocked on the front door. “’S open,” Ethan called from the living room. Most Saturday nights, Ethan and his friends got together at someone’s house, to blow each other up. It was his apartment’s night to be invaded.
Talking to whoever was on the other side was better than dealing with more of the not-making-eye-contact Jaycie had been doing since he kissed her. His cock twitched at the reminder. Back down. Considering the tense silence between Jaycie and himself, her claim that she didn’t want to make things awkward didn’t hold up.
Why did he care, anyway? She wasn’t the first girl to turn him down. Except he couldn’t rid himself of the memory of how incredible she’d tasted, felt, and smelled, earlier today.
Rich stepped into the apartment, but wasn’t looking at Ethan. “You got a maid?” His attention was focused on Jaycie in the kitchen. “Hey, babe. We wondered where you got off to.”
Ethan swallowed his frustration, but not the wave of possessiveness that rolled through him. Jaycie stood near the open door to the fridge, eyes wide and gaze frozen Rich.
“Last warning. I will deck you.” Ethan made sure each word was distinct. “Back off. She’s my roommate.”
Rich held up both hands, as if surrendering. “I’m not saying anything. Your house, your pussy rules.”
“I’ve got to go.” Jaycie pushed past Rich, slipped on her shoes, and grabbed her keys.
“Jaycie, wait.” Ethan stood and followed her out the door.
She was already halfway down the stairs, but paused and faced him. “Don’t worry about it.” Her voice was strained. “I just remembered I have stuff to do.”
“But—”
“Later.” Her voice was so quiet it barely reached him. “Please?”
He would have called game night off, but the clench of her jaw, the way her leg bounced, even though she stood still, convinced him to let her walk away for a little bit. “All right.”
She gave him a strained smile, turned away, and half-jogged toward the parking lot.
Ethan stowed the bizarre exchange as best he could, and turned back into the apartment.
“Get used to that with her,”
Rich said as the door clicked shut behind Ethan.
Rich probably had answers, but Ethan suspected they’d be more honest coming from Jaycie.
“Dude”—Rich punched him in the shoulder—“you still here?”
Ethan would have to redirect his adrenaline toward slaughtering digital soldiers. At least that would give him something to take his aggression out on. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Rich pulled a disc from the game console. “Whoa. How did you get your hands on this? Rumor was they delivered all of these in armored trucks with armed guards.” It was Jaycie’s review copy of God of Stars.
Seeing the game refreshed the entire morning in Ethan’s mind, souring his mood further. He snatched it away from Rich. “I have my sources. What are we playing?”
“That.” Rich nodded at the disc.
“No. We’re not.”
Fortunately, more friends started drifting in. The tension in the room faded, and Ethan found an excuse to break away long enough, to stow the demo disc in Jaycie’s room.
Chapter Nine
Jaycie lay in bed, staring at the light creeping over the popcorn pattern, as the sun rose outside her window. She couldn’t hear any traffic. It was too early on a Sunday morning for that kind of thing. Yesterday had been such a mess. She still didn’t know how she felt about what had happened with Ethan. Seeing Rich again, however, him knowing where she lived—those two minutes had sent a spike of panic through her she hadn’t expected. If he told Kent…
Now that she’d had a chance to clear her head and sleep off the paranoia, her reaction felt a little over-the-top. It still sat heavy in her gut, though.
At least Ethan was still sleeping, if the silence in the house was any indicator. She could figure out what to explain to him. How she felt about him. About Nick’s friends knowing where she was…
She pushed away the circular thoughts before they could repeat too many times, and climbed out of bed. Yup, Ethan’s door was closed. That was a good thing, right? She told herself it was, but she didn’t believe it. Every time she thought about him, whenever she hung out with him, she wanted more. Turning him down yesterday had almost devoured her. She hadn’t been able to look at him the rest of the afternoon—not because she was embarrassed, but because making eye contact meant giving in.
Then again, would that really be a big deal? What would it be like to stop pretending whatever was going on between them was this big vague thing to be avoided at all costs?
She started the coffee maker, and leaned back against the counter. A thousand what-if’s raced through her thoughts, all of them focused on redefining her relationship with Ethan. The machine sputtered to life, dark liquid dripping into the pot. When it was done, she grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it. She set the carafe back on the warmer, and moved to the fridge for milk.
“Morning.” Ethan’s quiet greeting startled her.
She gasped, and dropped her coffee mug. Ceramic and scalding liquid sprayed across her legs and the kitchen floor, and she jumped back in surprise. “Shit.” She grabbed handfuls of paper towels and dropped to her knees, grateful for the excuse to ignore him while she figured out what she was going to say.
“Jace. Stop.” Ethan wrapped fingers around her arm, and pulled her to her feet. He guided her toward the stools. “I’ll get it.”
“But—” She stuttered on the protest, as the nickname slid its way under her skin and soothed her. She’d been called that in high school, and hated the name. There was something about the way it rolled off his tongue though, familiar, comforting, and intimate, that gave it an entirely different feeling. His firm, gentle grip pushed her rambling confusion aside.
He stared at her for a minute, expression unreadable. “It’s not a big deal. Go change. I’ll take care of it.”
Relief and disappointment warred inside. Was she grateful for the opportunity to walk away or not? “Thanks.”
In the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. Her mind was too much of a jumble for her to make sense of it, so she ignored it. When the coffee was rinsed away, she dried off and wrapped a towel around herself.
Ethan’s door was closed again. She should be grateful for the interrupted moment. She’d been seconds away from making a mistake, and telling him what she was thinking. Except was it really as big a deal as she was pretending? She ducked into her own room, and pulled on dry clothes. She yanked her door open, and her hand flew to her hammering heart, when she saw Ethan leaning against the wall across from her.
“Jumpy much?” He gave her a half-smile, sympathy reflected in his dark eyes.
She tried to laugh. Hell, that sounded fake. “I guess.”
He kept his distance, arms crossed. “Since I destroyed your coffee, can I treat you to something stronger and sweeter?”
“I don’t usually drink at seven in the morning.”
“I meant like a caramel latte.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks grew warm, but she didn’t want to look away from his shimmer of amusement and the pleasant lines around his mouth.
“I mean, unless you’d like to go back to hiding in your room.”
Busted. She ducked her head and sighed. “I wasn’t hiding.”
“Whatever.” He wrapped his fingers around hers, and tugged. “Then you don’t mind keeping me company.” He pulled her toward the front door.
She liked the way his warm palm nestled against hers. Liked it a lot.
They drove in silence. She didn’t know what to say, and he gave her nothing to grab onto and run with.
It was still early, and the only other customers at the drive-up coffee shop waited at the window. Ethan still didn’t speak as he paid for their drinks, set hers in front of her, and took the seat across from her. Did he expect her to say something? Explain something? Continue the conversation from yesterday?
She took a long drink, not caring that the coffee scalded her tongue, and then dragged in a deep breath. For all the confused jumble in her thoughts, she still noticed the way his gaze traced over her, strayed below the neckline, and shot back to her eyes. She suppressed a smile at the attention. How could he have that impact on her, even in the middle of her brain going on strike?
It would be so much easier to just erase the last twenty-four or so hours. To go back to that kiss, finish what they started, forget the rest of yesterday happened. Too bad that wasn’t an option.
“You know Rich?” Ethan finally broke the silence.
She clenched her jaw. They were diving right in to the unpleasant stuff. “It showed?”
“Ex boyfriend?”
She couldn’t help the barking laugh that slipped out. “Me date Rich? You know him, right? That’s why he was at the apartment? Have you ever listened to him for more than a few minutes?”
Ethan raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s got qualities I don’t see. Seriously though, no. I can’t see you being in the same room with him for more than a few minutes without kneeing him in the nuts. Verbally, of course.”
The reply relaxed her a little. “I’m not that good. He’s friends with my ex-boyfriend.” Her thoughts stalled on the surge of memories that followed the confession. The reminder of Kent. The fear she’d been trying to rationalize away since last night.
A neutral mask slid onto Ethan’s face. “Can I guess things didn’t end well?”
“As frequently happens with break-ups.” She cringed at the biting sarcasm. “Sorry. You don’t deserve that.” She traced the scratches in the plastic table, trying to compose her thoughts. “Nick was a nice enough guy. Always did and said the right things. Treated me like the most precious thing in the world.”
Ethan clenched his jaw.
She slid the paper sleeve up and down her coffee cup. “I mean, he didn’t know what I did for a living. Pretty sure he didn’t care one way or the other, but he was still kind. And then his best friend, Kent, backed me into a corner.”
She couldn’t look at Ethan. D
idn’t want to try and guess what he was thinking. What if she told him this story, and his reaction was the same as Nick’s had been? Her gut clenched at the idea. She had to get it out, though.
“He…um…” She intertwined her fingers to keep her hands from shaking. “Nick had a bunch of friends over one night. Drinking, gaming—standard bullshit. I usually steered clear, because it was easier that way.”
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat at the vivid memory. She’d managed to stuff it away since it happened. Now that she was reaching for it, though, it tumbled back full-force. “Kent stumbled into our room. I was sitting on the bed, watching TV…” She breathed deeply. “It wasn’t like he ra—forced himself on me or anything. But he did pin me down. Pawed at me a bit. Told me if I ever got tired of Nick, I knew where to find him.”
She couldn’t get more descriptive than that. The memory clawed at her a lot more than the words. “One of the guys called him back from the living room, and he gave me this knowing leer. Told me we weren’t done.”
Ethan opened his mouth. “Jace, I do—”
“Wait.” She had to finish the story, or she’d lose her nerve, swallow it back down, and go back to ignoring the memory. She traced her fingers over her neck. “I tried to tell Nick. He told me I was overreacting. Rich backed him up. I don’t know. Maybe I was. Kent and I crossed paths again a few days later. Early Sunday morning. Almost empty strip mall. He pinned me to a wall by my throat. Told me if I ever talked shit about him again, he'd kill me, fuck my corpse, and bury me where no one would find me.
“I tried one more time to tell Nick, and he insisted I’d misunderstood. I made excuses to leave every time Kent came over. Nick called me on it, asked me to get over whatever my problem was. I couldn’t, so I walked out. Refused to answer his texts after I left. Made sure he didn’t know where I’d gone.”
She exhaled, a strange kind of calm sinking over her. Now she’d told Ethan how irrational she was, he’d stop trying so hard to win her over.
“Christ, Jace. I’m so sorry.”
Her brain stalled on the words. “I… What?” She realized his hands were clenched so tightly, his knuckles had paled.
The #5Star Affair (Love Hashtagged Book 1) Page 6