Jersey Six(58)

But Jersey did want Ian to kiss her there. It scared her just how much she wanted Ian to kiss her everywhere, touch her deeper than she’d ever wanted any man to touch her. “Yes …” She inched her legs open a little more and closed her eyes as he kissed her intimately. The warmth of his tongue brought her eyes back open, needing to watch him. A shadow, ten or so feet behind Ian, caught her attention.

Chris.

He stood statuesque at the bottom of the stairs.

Even with her new glasses, it was too dark to see his eyes. What were his eyes doing? Why was he standing there watching them?

Then it hit her—water. Chris always needed one last drink of water before bed. But he didn’t move toward the sink or the refrigerator. He just stood stone still.

He watched the enemy spread Jersey’s legs, his mouth pressed to her most intimate parts, humming his pleasure.

He watched Jersey’s mouth fall open while her right hand clenched Ian’s hair, encouraging him.

It was a game.

Chris told her to play it … he told her how to play it.

He couldn’t be mad that she played it so well.

And she couldn’t call a timeout just because Chris felt thirsty again.

Ian would be livid with Chris for watching them. He’d be pissed off at Jersey for letting it go on so long … so she said nothing. She let her lonely friend watch them.

Jersey used her other hand to slide her top completely off her head, giving Chris a better view of her.

She arched her back and moaned when Ian made her orgasm.

Her gaze flitted for a brief second to Chris when Ian stood on his knees, digging a condom out of his pocket.

Jersey returned her attention to Ian as he shoved his jeans and briefs down just enough to release his erection and roll on the condom.

She kissed him passionately as he pulled her naked body closer to his.

She bit the tight muscle along his shoulder as he guided her legs around his waist and drove into her.

Her fingers dug into his back while leaving her gaze on Chris’s idle body the entire time. Maybe for that one night … she wasn’t only for Ian’s eyes.

A game … just a game.

A game she enjoyed too much.

A game with a lonely, sexually deprived spectator.

Ian stilled on his final thrust, and Jersey closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them, Chris was gone.





CHAPTER NINETEEN





Jersey punched, kicked, jabbed, and grunted at the hundred-pound punching bag hanging in Ian’s workout room. The wine wore off by eleven. Ian joined her in the shower around midnight. She peeled his limbs from her naked body around two. Stared at the ceiling until three. Slipped on a sports bra, shorts, and her boxing gloves ten minutes later.

“Can’t sleep either?”

She turned toward Chris’s voice. He stood in the doorway, wearing sweats and holding a glass of water.

“I see you’re finally quenching your thirst.” She rammed her fist into the bag again.

“Are we really going to talk about that?” He moseyed around the room, inspecting the expensive exercise equipment.

“No. We’re not.” Jersey grunted with another jab.

“Listen …” He sat in the seat of the rowing machine, with no intention of rowing. “I get that you don’t want to kill an innocent man—which he’s not. But you’re not doing anything except letting him crawl between your legs. The plan was to destroy his reputation, turn the world against him, make him want to die.”

She ignored him, throwing another punch.

Chris shrugged. “I’ll play devil’s advocate for a minute and pretend that he’s not the person who killed them. But he’s still not your happily-ever-after. He will despise you on a visceral level for planning his death. He’ll know that all of this was an act because you can’t honestly fall in love with the man you’re planning to kill. He’s too smart to be that gullible. So … any way you look at it, this story doesn’t end with you both alive and together.”

She bent over, resting her gloves on her knees while catching her breath. Chris was right. One hundred percent.

“Tell me what to do.” Jersey’s sweat-stained face glanced up at him.

A tiny smile curled his lips. “Put yourself on the radar. He’s working his ass off to do it anyway by getting you a passport to join him abroad, but being the flavor of the month is not a huge deal. I’m sure he’s had girlfriends. However, we don’t want his adoring fans to be jealous of you. We want them to hate you because you’re bad for their rock star.”

“Bad how?”

“Unpolished. Impulsive. Unpredictable. And you have a real doozy of a past. You’ve been arrested. You’ve been in juvie. You’ve killed a man. That’s not exactly girlfriend material for the world’s favorite singer.”

“Petty theft. Assault charges. I spent a week in juvie. One lousy week. Less than three days in jail before being sentenced to community service. And the man I killed was a sexual predator. It was self-defense. I didn’t spend one night in jail. There wasn’t even a trial.”

Chris chuckled. “Yes, Jers, compared to the population of Marley’s, you are nothing but a white dove with a tiny smudge of dirt on your wing. But to adoring, young fans who might not even have a parking ticket on their record, you are a hideous criminal, a worthless piece of shit from Newark who doesn’t deserve their Ian. And that’s exactly how we want it.”