The team is tight enough, but we all know these guys are partners. They balance each other, watch each other’s six, and they’d leave the rest of us in the dirt before they’d leave each other.
But things have been off with them since the Heather drama, and I do not love the weird tension. It makes me itchy.
That push and pull is there between them now, the kind of questioning that never existed before Heather—or BH, as I call it —when Dom repeats, “Clear?”
Finally, Beau drops his gaze. He scrubs a hand over the scruff on his chin that he usually keeps shaved. “Clear. But for the record, she’s smart enough to know something’s going on. It’s not going to make her any more trusting of us if we keep lying.”
“I’m more worried about keeping the hunters off our backs than coddling her feelings. She’ll need to toughen up if she wants to stick around.” Dom’s voice is hard. “Now if we’re done, can we move to the study and figure out how to stop these assholes from killing us in our sleep?”
“Should I get Jaykob?” Beau asks, and everyone tenses. “He should be a part of this.”
Dom rubs his forehead. “Not . . . now. I’ll talk to him later.”
“Barring Lucien, we all miscalculated there,” Jasper says in a grim voice. “Unfortunately, I anticipate this incident will exacerbate some of his more problematic behaviors. I will make my apologies shortly, and I strongly suggest you both do the same. In the interim, Lucien, it would be good if you could visit with him. He’s not half so antagonistic with you and we need to keep him from feeling too isolated.”
“Yeah. I mean, yes. Sure. I can do that.”
I shut my mouth and internally kick myself. No one acknowledges my clumsy reply, but I know Jasper, at least, noticed.
Damn it. Through the years, I’ve become real good at keeping this shit locked down, but ever since Eden arrived, it’s like I’ve taken a dozen fresh cuts and my emotions are bleeding out everywhere. Hearing my name on his lips tangles my tongue, seeing him eating the food I’ve prepared makes me weak. I’m pretty sure I’m broken.
And I know why.
Seeing them together the other day wrecked me. I’m still not sure how it can be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and yet still make me want to yank my heart out through my mouth just to make it stop hurting. I’ve gotten myself off six times since, just picturing him pleasuring her, remembering the short, gaspy pants she made and the look on her face when she came—and it only made me cry once.
Okay, twice.
Fuck. I’m a mess. And he’s going to see it.
“Study in five,” Dom orders.
I salute my assent and quickly gather the plates as Dom and Beau leave the room, not wanting to leave a mess for Eden to find. When I move to take Jasper’s plate, his hand grasps my belt under the counter, and I still. I think I forget to breathe.
His dark eyes pierce me, but I don’t lift mine to meet them. I don’t want him to see everything writhing around in there right now.
Screw the mess, I should have left while I still had the chance.
“Look at me, Lucien,” he murmurs.
Reluctantly, I do.
The icy irritation has melted from his features and he’s looking at me with his Sir eyes. He’s looking at me like. . . Fuck, the curve of his mouth is so pretty. He is so pretty. I’ve never seen softer-looking lips—except maybe Eden’s.
Eden.
Shit.
I swallow hard and wrap my hand around his wrist, tugging gently so he’ll remove it. “Jasper, I can’t—”
His brow kicks up in surprise. His hand doesn’t budge.
Damn it. One more minute and he’ll have more than my buckle to hold on to.
Jasper ignores my protest. “It’s your night with Eden,” he muses.
Oh. Ohhh no. Yeah, I am not having this conversation.
“Dom said five, right? We should get moving. I—”
Those beautiful lips purse into a severe line. “Captain Slade can wait.”
There’s a threat in his words, a warning, and that tone from him is like the bell for Pavlov’s dogs. I’m so hard I hurt. I ache.
But I’m used to aching for Jasper.
I nod in response, not trusting my voice, and the line of his mouth softens in approval. He likes it when I disobey Dom for him. I know he does. I just wish Dom didn’t hand me my ass every time I did it.
Right now, it seems like a good deal though. It’s still early, but Jasper is groomed and pristine. His shirt is immaculate, and the combination of silky soft fabric and hot, hard man always unravels me. During one of our scenes, after he’d whipped me until I was wrung raw and crying at his feet, he rewarded me by wrapping one of those used silk shirts around my swollen cock and stroking me until I spilled everything I had into the fabric. Even the thought of it makes me want to pass out all over again.
Sometimes I wonder if he ever wears that shirt. If it could be the one he’s wearing right now.
Or if I ruined it that day as much as he’s ruined me.
Jasper stands up, so very close. He’s taller than me and it makes me want to straighten—some small, heteronormative part of me I thought I rationalized away years ago wanting to prove that I’m just as tough. That just because I’m submissive to him, it doesn’t make me less of a soldier, or less of a man.
Ridiculous.
He knows that as well as I do. Hell, he’s the one who helped me work through a lot of my conflicted feelings about my sexuality. But still. I stand straight, shoulders back, and it brings our lips within inches. We haven’t been this close in almost a year and a half. Just for a moment, I wonder if he’s finally going to kiss me.
Instead, he lifts his hand from my belt and cups the side of my face. A few strands of inky, satin hair fall over his forehead.
He’s not teasing now. He’s not severe. Dark, grave eyes caress my face.
Tension coils inside me, and I tremble under his grip. I’ve never seen him look at me this way, not even in the depths of a scene.
“You seem very taken with her,” he says softly, and I can feel his breath on my mouth.
My erection strains for attention, but there is an inch of space between every part of our bodies, except where his hand holds me in place. Where he stops me from floating away. I feel magnetized against him, like that space can’t be closed. Like it won’t ever be, not with us.
“So do you.” My words are just as soft as his, but they’re glass in my throat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. He looked at her like he was captivated. Owned. Alive.
But not at me.
Not like that.
I’m not usually a jealous person, but I’m jealous of him. I’m jealous of her too. I’m jealous that it’s so uncomplicated for them to be together but for some reason it’s the hardest thing in the world for us.
It must be because I’m a man, but the conversation has never been on the table, and I’ve been too chicken shit to ask. I never wanted the confirmation that there’s no hope for us.
“She could be the solution to a problem of mine.” Jasper rests his forehead on mine, and my breath falters at the contact.
His thumb moves along my jaw. He hesitates, and the moment is so unlike Jasper, I wonder if I’ve been transported to some other reality. Finally, he murmurs, “If I asked something selfish of you, would you do it?”