me. Alcohol always makes me a little flirty, but this is a far cry from teasing a handsome stranger who bought me a drink at the bar.
Still a little spacey from that orgasm, I try to get it together and pull myself out of the hot water I inexplicably decided to steep myself in a few moments ago.
“That was very nice,” I say a touch hesitantly, my gaze glued to his belt as he drops it on the ground. “Um… but also very against the rules.”
“What is your attachment to these rules all of a sudden?” His tone is casual, but I sense the genuine curiosity buried underneath.
I swallow, watching his hands as they move to the buttons of his shirt.
“I can’t sleep with you,” I tell him. “I mean, we can’t have sex.”
“You said that already.” His tone is bored, reviewing information he already has. “You haven’t said why. I know it’s not that you don’t want to.”
No, that’s certainly not it. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been attracted to him since the moment I met him. Sure, that attraction hit a little speed bump when he morphed from the handsome man who saved me to the scary degenerate who stole me, but… well, even some aspects of that weren’t altogether unappealing.
I may have been genuinely afraid of him, but that night at the motel room when I was naked and resolved to doing whatever I had to do to get out of there alive… I don’t know, there was a freedom in it. Something I’ve never felt before.
Something I haven’t felt since.
I could do something naughty and reckless, I could let the dangerous, sexy stranger claim me without having to feel guilty for it later. After all, what choice did I have?
Now I’m weighed down again, burdened by too many choices and their inevitable consequences. I don’t know which path is the right one. I’m tempted toward Jasper, but he’s not safe—not even a little bit.
Jasper never seems to be burdened with uncertainty. How I envy him that.
I turn away, facing the sink instead of him.
How can I explain without stripping myself bare—not my body, but my heart? That’s so much scarier than being naked.
I can’t explain that if I let him possess me in that way, I’ll grow attached. I know it’s unusual, I know not everyone feels that way, and he’s a man—not to mention older and more experienced than I am—so I’m sure he’s capable of having sex and not getting attached.
I’m not.
I’ve made that choice too soon before, I’ve emotionally involved myself with men I shouldn’t have, and each time I’ve been hurt.
None of them were murderers, though. None of them worked for some crime family in Chicago.
All things considered, the other guys may have been assholes, but they weren’t legitimately dangerous.
And, most importantly, those were actual relationships. There was an expectation of developing feelings and attachment. I was allowed to keep them if I wanted to.
That’s not the case with Jasper. There’s a countdown clock on us. Like grains of sand trapped in an hourglass—when time runs out, that’s it. He’s gone. I have to go back to the life I led before him, and I can’t do that if he has pieces of me I never should have given him in the first place.
I can’t afford to get attached, and it’s hard enough to remember that without sharing such an extreme intimacy with him.
I do want to know what it would be like with Jasper, but I can’t. I just can’t.
While I’ve been distracted with my inner turmoil, Jasper has stripped off all his clothes. Movement registers in the mirror in front of me. I look up and my breath catches at the sight of him.
I’ve seen Jasper without his shirt on before, but I was a little preoccupied with the whole “is he going to kill me?” thing at the time, so I wasn’t able to focus and properly admire the sight.
It is a sight to behold, though. His shoulders are broad and strong, but not bulky. He probably does work out often, but he doesn’t have “gym muscles”. He has brute strength, the practical kind. He probably needs it in his line of work.
My gaze wanders, trying to take in every inch of him, from his firm pectoral muscles to his toned abdomen. He has tattoos, starting at his left wrist and climbing up his bicep toward his shoulder.
I wonder if they mean anything, or he just likes