Jazzy’s eyes land on where her name is scrawled on my skin. “It’s not a joke, and you can be a grouchy asshole all you like. I’m not leaving.”
“Oh, yes, you are. I’m calling your father,” I tell her.
“Go for it. He already knows I’m here,” she says.
I do a double-take. “Your father knows you’re here, in my bedroom, sitting on my bed?”
“Well, he knows I’m in your apartment. I think we can spare him the details.” She smirks. “Where were you?”
“At the office,” I say.
“You buried your parents today and you went to work?”
“Yes.” I shrug. She doesn’t need to know what I was doing at work.
“You need to let yourself grieve, Jake,” she tells me.
“Your mother died when you were six, Jasmine. You barely even knew her. Don’t sit there and pretend to know what I’mgoing through, if I’m grieving appropriately or not,” I growl. I know I’m being an asshole, and I hate myself the minute the words are out of my mouth and I see the hurt on her face.
“Okay, I won’t tell you how to grieve. How about you help me with something, then?” she says.
“What do you need help with?” I ask, willing to do anything for her.
“I want to sleep. I want to know that you’re right next to me. It used to help when we were kids and had slumber parties,” she says.
I know exactly what she’s talking about, the nightmares. Whenever I stayed over at her house, she didn’t have nightmares. Her father put a stop tothatwhen we were around eleven.
“They’re really back?” I question her.
“Different ones.” She nods.
“What are they about?” I walk back into my closet and pull out a shirt for her to sleep in. Jazzy doesn’t answer. “What are they about, Jazzy?” I repeat.
“Freddie,” she whispers.Her ex.
“You miss him?”I don’t really want to know the answer.
“I miss a part of the relationship we had. It was easy. We were friends.” She shrugs.
“Did you love him?”Fuck, I really must want to hurt more than I already am.
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Put the shirt on and get in my bed before I change my mind.” I should send her home. Having her here is dangerous. Having her anywhere near me is dangerous. I can’t find it in myself to turn her away, though.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You’re about to be wearing nothing but one of my shirts and getting into my bed. I should be the one thanking you.” I smirk. Because fuck me, now my dick is hard.
“What makes you think I’m not wearing panties to bed?” She raises a brow at me.
“You’re not,” I tell her confidently.
“We’ll see,” she hums and walks into the bathroom.
I pull the covers back and sit on the bed. Waiting. Then I pick up my phone and check the cameras surrounding the building. I can spot men in suits everywhere. They’re here for her. Thank fuck. No one is going to get through the army her father has stationed outside.
Jazzy walks out of the bathroom, her long legs on full display for me. Her nipples pebbled under the thin, cotton shirt.