Jasper Vale (The Edens #4)(18)

“Fine. In the meantime, don’t pretend like I’m no one.” He smeared our releases along the inside of my thigh, then dragged our sticky fingers to my belly, marking me there too. “Don’t run away from me. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what it feels like when I’m fucking you.”

Okay, so maybe that hadn’t been my best decision earlier. In my defense, I hadn’t expected to see him and I’d panicked.

Jasper tugged his hand free and stepped away, leaving me on swaying legs.

I held on to the couch, regaining my balance.

By the time I turned around, he’d already pulled on his jeans. His shirt came next, tugged quickly over that broad chest still damp with sweat.

“You want me to fuck you for a while, fine.” He stepped into his boots. “I’ll give you the orgasms the losers from your past couldn’t. But when I see you on the street, you look at me.”

A lump formed in my throat.

I hadn’t meant to hurt him. To make him feel like nothing. But I was afraid that when I looked at him, anyone around us would see. They’d see the desire. The craving. The intimacy.

“Jasper—”

He didn’t let me apologize. He marched out the door, slamming it closed behind him.

He left me standing naked in my living room with his come still dripping down my leg.

“Shit.” I buried my face in my hands, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.

I’d messed up. Again.

Somehow, I’d managed to make Jasper feel used. Cheap.

Was that what other men thought of me? Those guys I’d dated and hadn’t called again, did they feel like I’d used them?

My dating history was a train wreck. My marriage history wasn’t any better.

“Oh God. I have a marriage history.”

My stomach churned. Someday, I’d meet the man of my dreams. And when he asked me to marry him, when we exchanged vows, it wouldn’t be for the first time. My heart twisted, my chin beginning to quiver.

I was married.

I was about to have an ex-husband. I would be an ex-wife. Shame spread across my skin like a rash.

There was no erasing what had happened in Las Vegas. My only option at this point was to fix it.

So I squashed the urge to cry, to scream, and collected my clothes from the floor, bundling them against my chest. I carried them down the hallway to my bedroom, where they were dropped in my hamper, then I rushed through a shower, erasing Jasper’s cologne and the scent of sex from my body.

With my damp hair twisted in a knot, I dressed in a pair of sweats and grabbed my laptop from my tiny office. I spent the next three hours researching Montana divorce lawyers.

My top choice was a woman in Missoula. She was far enough away from Quincy that hopefully no one local would ever find out. But she was also close enough I could drive there to meet if needed. I put her at the top of my list, noting my second and third choices to call in the morning. Then I steeled my spine and made a call.

To my husband.

“Yeah,” Jasper answered.

“I’m sorry. About earlier. About running from you and pretending like I didn’t know you. I panicked.”

He blew out a long breath. “It’s all right. This is . . .”

“Fucked up?”

He barked a dry laugh. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to call a lawyer in the morning.”

“’Kay. I left a message with mine.”

“We’ll let them get this sorted. And I’ll tell my family.” Somehow.

He hummed his agreement.

The silence stretched for a few heartbeats. This was when I should hang up, but I just sat and listened to the nothing. Jasper’s scent might not be on my skin anymore, but I was sitting on the couch and his spicy, woodsy scent still clung to the air in the living room.

If they made that smell into a candle, I’d burn it twenty-four seven.

“We should probably stop having sex.” I hated the words the moment they came off my tongue. But it was time to start fixing those mistakes.

“Probably a smart idea,” he said.

It was the smart idea. So why did that make my spirits sink?

“Night, Jasper.”

“Bye, Eloise.”

He ended the call.

As I stared at the screen, something twisted in my stomach.

Like that goodbye wasn’t only for tonight.





CHAPTER SIX





JASPER





You are cordially invited . . .

The wedding invitation in my hand might as well have been a knife. The sheet of textured ecru paper sliced straight through my heart.

“Fuck.” I tossed it on the kitchen counter beside the stack of mail that had been delivered today.

Ironic that the first day I received mail at the A-frame as its official owner was the same day that invitation arrived.

My mail had been forwarded from my place in Vegas to Montana for weeks. Whether I’d bought this cabin or not, that card still would have found its way into my mailbox. Still, it felt like a bad omen.

Why would they send me an invitation? Why couldn’t everyone just leave me alone?

I left the kitchen, walking through the house—my house—to the slider that opened to the deck. The babble of the nearby creek played quietly in the background. The breeze rustled the pine and fir trees, making their trunks sway. The air nipped at my arms, cool despite the sun streaming through the sky. Last night’s dew had mostly disappeared but there were still a few damp, shady spots that gave the air an earthy, rich aroma.