Misbehaving (Sea Breeze #6)(35)

“Motherf*cker,” he finally said, dropping his hands and hanging his head. “You thought I was going to hurt you?” he asked incredulously.

Of course I did. “You were shaking. Guys shake from anger before they strike,” I pointed out.

“Strike?” he repeated, still staring at me. “God, Jess.” He sank down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. What was wrong with him? He looked upset. Like I had hurt him, not the other way around.

I didn’t move, but waited on him to say something. Finally he lifted his head and looked at me. “I would never hurt you. I don’t hit women. I’ve never . . .” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time dealing with the fact that you’ve obviously been hit by guys enough to assume I would do it. I can’t comprehend the fact that someone would hit you.”

Oh. Yeah, well, that made sense. He’d never seemed like the kind of guy who hit, but then, I tended to make guys so mad they snapped and lost it, so I wasn’t sure if I had done the same to him.

“You were angry,” I explained.

He nodded. “Yeah, I was angry. Cameron was touching you. Guys were watching you like you were their last meal, and I didn’t like it, and I didn’t f**king like the fact that I didn’t like it. This . . . I can’t . . . We can’t have anything more than this. I don’t want to care if other guys look at you.” He stopped and fisted his hands in his lap.

“I know this is just a little fling. I’m not expecting more,” I said, suddenly wanting to reassure him.

He just sat there staring at me. I moved over to sit beside him now that I knew he wasn’t about to take a swing at me. “I wasn’t dancing with Cameron to make you mad. I was trying to get out of your way. You seemed like you regretted bringing me, and I was trying to salvage your night for you by not being a burden.”

Jason closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. When he opened them, he looked at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You felt that way because I made you feel that way. This is my fault.”

I didn’t argue with him. He was right. He had made me feel that way.

“I don’t get possessive. I can’t get possessive. I don’t have time for that. You are making me feel that way, and it doesn’t fit into my world. I was trying to distance myself.”

He didn’t want to share my body. So that was his problem. Well, I didn’t want to share my body either. And I wouldn’t be sharing it with him anymore. He needed to distance himself? Then fine. I needed that too.

“Okay. Then we get through the night. Take me home, and that’s it. You can even send me home tonight if you like. I don’t mind the bus.”

Jason groaned and turned away from me. “I’m not putting you on a bus” was all he said.

“Fine. Then you get me home however you want to.”

Jason reached over and took my hand in his. “I don’t like this,” he said.

And he thought I did? I wasn’t going to admit it, though. I shrugged. “It is what it is. And I’ve had fun.”

Jason wouldn’t look at me. “How do we distance ourselves?”

“We start with very little touching and of course nothing sexual. I won’t dance with anyone else if that bothers you, but you can’t dance with anyone else either. To keep it fair.”

Jason turned his head to finally meet my gaze. “Nothing sexual?”

“Can’t have distance if we’re naked and wrapped around each other,” I replied.

Heat flashed in Jason’s eyes, and I stood up before he could act on that. As much as I loved to be in his arms, I also knew that no matter how many times I offered myself to him, he would be leaving me. I was not someone he would ever have a relationship with, and it was time I protected myself.

“That’s gonna be f**king impossible,” he said.

No, it wasn’t. He wanted distance. He was going to get it. “It’s the only way,” I replied.

JASON

I placed my hand on Jess’s lower back as we walked back into the party. I could feel the eyes on us—or more like, on her. Every damn guy here was looking at her, and I had no right to care. Which sucked. I wasn’t going to think about it.

“You thirsty yet?” I asked her.

“If you go to the bar and get sidetracked, someone may approach me, and I don’t want to be rude to your friends,” she said.

I reached for her hand. “I’m not leaving you alone. They’re all f**king vultures,” I replied, taking her with me.

She went with me willingly. “What do you want to drink?” I asked her.

She glanced at the bartender. “Do you have whiskey?” she asked hopefully.

“Straight?” the guy asked, smiling at her like an idiot.

“Please, I need it,” she replied.

He poured her more than the normal and slid it to her. Even the damn hired help was ogling her. “I can’t believe you’re drinking whiskey,” I said.

She stopped with the rim almost to her mouth and gave me an amused grin. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what else you expect from me. I’m not one of them,” she said, waving her glass out at the crowd. “My momma ain’t a trust-fund baby. She’s a stripper.”