Rules of Protection(17)

“I’m surprised you aren’t wearing pajamas,” I told him. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I don’t sleep in pajamas.”

“You sleep in jeans? That’s weird.”

Jake gave me one of his incredible smiles, showing his gleaming white teeth. “I don’t usually have anything on me in bed…unless it’s a woman.”

I struggled to maintain my composure, but practically melted into the mattress. I smiled back, though I think mine came off more like an Elvis impersonation. What the hell is wrong with me?

Seconds later, I answered my own question.

My mind did a mental rewind of the evening and paused on the memory of Jake kissing me in the club—not once, but twice—and my nipples tightened. Okay, I was obviously attracted to him. But he was a jerk, right? Before I knew he was an agent, I’d toggled between wanting to kiss him or slap him. So far, kissing had won out.

“We should probably talk about what happened between us last night,” Jake proposed, sitting next to me on the bed.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want him to apologize for anything or tell me it was a mistake. It was his job…I knew that. But hearing him say his memories of our kiss weren’t as fond as mine would be damaging to my mental well-being. I didn’t want to rehash the evening with him because then I’d have to wallow in self-pity, something I refused to do with an audience.

Jake sat quietly, waiting for me to speak. His eyes met mine, and the swell of inner emotions restricted the blood flow to my brain. The intense way he focused on me made my mind and body feel out of alignment. I liked him. A lot. There’s just something hot about a guy who’s willing to take a bullet for you.

I tried to conquer the voice in my head, but it was no use. God, I was falling for him. Again.

After a dizzying deliberation, my brain went on hiatus, and I made a ballsy move. I grabbed Jake and kissed him. It was eager, aggressive, impulsive…and not returned.

Jake grabbed my arms firmly and pushed me away. His eyes trained on me as he gave me a pensive look and tightened his jaw. Jake’s lips pursed as he breathed out through his nose, his eyebrows gathering over the bridge. Yep, definitely mad.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. I felt rejected, not to mention embarrassed. Was I so self-deluded that I hadn’t realized the little effect I actually had on him? Okay, he could’ve faked the kiss in the club. But there was no mistaking the giant beanstalk in his pants.

“I-I’m sorry,” I said, though I didn’t feel particularly guilty. “I just thought…”

Without warning, Jake stood and crossed the room, putting distance between us. I didn’t dare look at him with my heated cheeks. They were probably as red as I was stupid. Instead, I plopped back, pulled a blanket over my head, and tried to smother myself.

Naturally, I wanted to smooth things over, but I doubted he’d give me the chance. He made it unmistakably clear he wanted nothing to do with me. Maybe he was cranky and sleep deprived. Or maybe he didn’t have to pretend anymore. Whatever it was, it left me scratching my head, but I refused to be interested in a guy who wasn’t interested in me. Well, it sounded good, anyway.

I don’t know if the long, traumatic night finally caught up with me, or if the oxygen deprivation had something to do with it, but I must’ve passed out. When I opened my eyes again, the sun had already gone down. If the clock next to the bed was correct, then I had spent the entire day unconscious.

Jake sat across the room in a chair with his laptop, notebook, and a pen. He didn’t look up. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, hoping he wouldn’t talk to me.

“I know you’re awake.”

Crap.

Jake clicked his pen, and I heard him set it down. “We need to talk.”

I opened my eyes to see him moving toward the bed with a masculine saunter. “Talk about what?”

“You know what.”

I avoided making eye contact, but knew he watched me. His laser-sharp stare sliced into me with surgical precision. It was nerve-racking, though I craved his attention. The problem with Jake was that he was addictive. I don’t know why I felt so strongly for a guy I barely knew, but I desperately wanted to quit him cold turkey. I needed a distraction until he left. Then, problem solved.

I shook my head and played stupid. “You have to be more specific.”

“We need to talk about you kissing me this morning.”

“No, we don’t,” I said, though I meant I’d rather gouge out my eyes with a dull pencil.

He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re impulsive…and stubborn…and you don’t think things through…and I—”

“I don’t need you to point out anything. I’m not oblivious to my flaws.”

“You’re actually admitting you have some?”

“Jerk.”

He grinned. “If I’m such a jerk, then why throw yourself at me?”

We both went silent. My eyes fastened to his, and I realized we were sizing each other up. I began to sweat. “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice growing more hostile. “I’ve regretted that decision ever since. It won’t happen again.”

He shook his head and sat next to me. “You know what your problem is? You’re mad because you kissed me, and I didn’t fall over with my dick hard.”