I glance down at Violet. With a somewhat resigned expression, she’s watching her go. I squeeze her fingers. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you.”
Her smile is small, but she nods, and we continue on toward the bar.
THIRTEEN: Violet
When we stop at the bar, I glance back over my shoulder to make sure I can still see Tia. Coming here at all was probably a bad idea. Coming here with her was probably flat-out stupid. This night might well end in disaster.
If Jet thinks this is the kind of place that might spell trouble for him, then the same goes for Tia. Maybe even more so. She’s in a room full of horny, drunk men and she’s one of only a handful of females. And, from what I can see, quite a few of the guys are young and attractive. That plus alcohol is not a good combo for Tia’s self-control.
“She’ll be fine. We won’t let her get into trouble,” Jet says from my side, drawing my eyes back to him. Even in this low light, I’m awestruck by how handsome he is and how incredibly dumb it was for me to engage in any kind of relationship with him. He practically oozes heartbreaker.
“We won’t?” I ask, grinning over the “we” part.
Jet shrugs and throws me a sheepish grin. “Okay, maybe I should’ve said you’ve got your hands full tonight.” I smile and nod, agreeing wholeheartedly. “But I promise to be on my best behavior, if that helps.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Seriously, though, it makes a difference that you’re here. Just you being here is . . . is . . .” The way he’s watching me makes me feel breathless and giddy, like I’m in some kind of strangely thrilling dream, one where there are no consequences. Only this isn’t a dream. And getting involved with Jet in any romantic way would come with very real and very painful consequences, I’m sure. “Well, it helps. I’ll just say that.”
“Isn’t that why you asked me to come?”
He watches me for several long seconds before shaking his head. For some reason, I don’t believe him when he says, “Yes, it was.” It’s almost as though he silently finishes the thought with, wasn’t it?
We stand at the bar, staring at each other, lost in our own moment, when the bartender speaks. “What can I get you?”
Jet answers him without taking his eyes off mine, which is, somehow, very disconcerting. “We’ll start with some ice first.”
The way he says it—his voice low and velvety, his eyes boring hot holes into mine—makes it sound like he has very naughty plans for that ice. Or is that just the way I heard it?
It takes all my strength to argue. “No, no. Please. That’s not necessary.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“No, really. It doesn’t hurt and I’d rather not draw any attention to it.” The more I think about having to ice my head at a party, the more humiliating the prospect becomes.
Jet’s eyes narrow on me. “To it or to you?”
I resist the urge to look away. “Either,” I say with a casual smile.
He says nothing for the longest time, just watches me. When he does speak, his voice is thoughtful. “Then what will you have to drink, lovely Violet?”
I feel a little thrill vibrate along my nerve ends and land in the very pit of my stomach. Maybe I didn’t imagine his intonation about the ice. “I’ll have a Coke.”
Jet raises one brow. “Just a Coke? Nothing in it?”
“Nope. Just ice.”
Jet turns to the bartender and orders a Coke for me and a beer for himself. I feel both bereft and focused without his eyes on me. But when he returns his attention to me, and I’m as mesmerized as ever, I’m strangely relieved to be caught in his web again.
“Don’t you drink?”
“Yes, of course. I just ordered a Coke.”
Jet grins, and my heart trips over itself. “I love a smart-ass.”
“Glad to hear it,” I offer, with a grin of my own. I know I shouldn’t be indulging in playful banter with Jet. I know I shouldn’t. And yet . . .
“But I’m not that easily put off. Why don’t you drink?”
“Are you asking if I have a problem with alcohol?”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Then why don’t you drink?”
“I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control.”
“Having one drink doesn’t mean that you’re not in control.”
“But it could lead to more.”
“Sometimes more isn’t a bad thing. It’s the ‘too much’ that seems to be problematic.”
“To me, that’s like playing with fire. Pushing the limits to see how far you can go before you’ve gone too far and can’t find your way back.”
Jet’s eyes are the most intense thing I’ve ever seen. “And you don’t like to play with fire?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
“So your philosophy in life is to abstain from everything on the off chance that you could become addicted?”
As difficult as it is to think straight around him, I do my best to digest his words, his real meaning and respond. “Essentially, yes.”
“Well, I know there’s at least one thing you can’t resist,” he says with a wink.
I c**k my head to the side, feeling careless for maybe the first time in my entire life. “You don’t think I can resist you?”
“What makes you think I was talking about me?”
There’s a dare in his eyes.
It takes a few seconds for me to remember I’m supposed to be a sex addict. He thinks I have a hard time resisting sex.
I let out a slow, even breath. “I try not to let anything get under my skin anymore.”
Jet nods, his gaze still holding mine, refusing to let go. “Maybe you can teach me that trick,” he says softly.
“You have to want it.”
“Oh, I want it.” Something tells me he’s not referring to restraint.
“That makes the rest easier.”
“The rest?”
“Saying no.”
Staring at me over the bottle as he tips it up, Jet takes a drink of his beer. “Yeah, that’s where I have a little trouble. I don’t like that word.”
“Well, you’d better get used to it.”
“Are you gonna teach me that, too?”
My heart is pounding. For the space of a breath, I think that I don’t want him to say no. Not to me. I don’t want him to resist me. Just like I don’t want to resist him.