There’s Wild, Then There’s You (The Wild Ones #3)(29)
Author: M. Leighton

“You told me about your mom and her . . . problems. It was incredibly insensitive for me to expose you to that shit tonight. Rockers, drugs, the stuff with the women. God, Violet, how could I be so stupid?”

“You’re not—”

“I want you to know that it was just inconsiderate on my part, and it won’t happen again.”

“Hey,” I say, stopping my swing and reaching for his arm. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m a big girl. My mom’s problems are hers, not mine. I’m fine. Really.”

Jet sighs and stares up at the star-studded sky. “I’m trying to do better, but times like tonight make me think I’ll never be anything more than a selfish ass**le.”

“You’re not a selfish ass**le, Jet,” I declare vehemently.

He falls silent again, and I hold my tongue, not knowing what to say now.

“I come here to see my brothers,” he begins. Finally.

“Your brothers?”

“Yeah. I told you that my mother won’t let me see them until I get my shit together. So I’ve been coming here to see them. Chad, the oldest, brings Todd out here after school so he can play for a while before they go home. Mom kinda went apeshit after Dad left and she’s pretty tough on ’em. She doesn’t know I see them, of course. I made them promise not to tell her.”

“But you love them. That’s not selfish.”

Jet turns his eyes on me. He stares deep into them, searching for . . . something.

“Isn’t it? When she has asked me not to, and for good reason? Isn’t it selfish of me to expose them to all my shit?”

“But you’re not. You come here to see them while they play. You aren’t taking them to bars, Jet.”

“No. I’m not that bad.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he says, his smile small and sad. “I never felt bad about it before. Not until recently.”

“Why now? What happened?”

“I met you. You make me want to be the kind of person they can look up to, that my mother would be proud to have in their lives. Not the kind that lives like hell and then sneaks around to see them anyway. The selfish kind. The kind I’ve always been.”

“Jet, you make it sound like you’re a monster. I think it’s wonderful that you want to be a better person. We should all strive to be better. Every day. Everyone could use some improvement. But wanting to see your brothers doesn’t make you a selfish ass**le. You’re not a bad person just because you’ve got a few problems, Jet. We’ve all got problems. Even your mom.”

Jet’s eyes bore into mine. Something in them pains me. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew all the things I’ve done. If you knew what kind of person I really am.”

“I’m not stupid, Jet. I know who you are. I know about your problems. But, despite them, you’re here. With me. Feeling guilty for the things you’ve done, for the way you live your life. That hardly sounds like a person beyond redemption.”

“But Violet, you don’t know . . .”

“And I don’t have to. Because I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. What matters is what you do from here on. What matters are the things you can control, like the future and what choices you make today and tomorrow. You can’t fix yesterday.”

Jet reaches for the chains to my swing. He turns me toward him and pulls me close, his face set and his eyes desperate. “Do you really believe that? Could you really overlook every bad thing I’ve done? Are you that forgiving?”

I get the feeling he’s asking me about much more, but I don’t know what. And I don’t know how else to respond. So I tell him what I hope I’d have the personal strength to do. “Yes, I am that forgiving.”

I can hear his breathing. It seems that he’s fighting some internal battle and the situation with his brothers is only scratching the surface. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was feeling guilty over something he’d done to me. But that’s impossible. He hasn’t done anything to me.

“I hope that means you’ll start now.”

Before I can ask what I need to forgive him for, Jet shows me, crushing his lips to mine. They’re heated. Hungry. Urgent.

They’re soft yet firm, just like I remember. And the flavor of Jet is the same. Heady. Seductive. Male. But there’s something in the kiss that feels different. Like he’s taking off the gloves. Tonight marks a change, and I’m not sure what it means for me.

I just know it means something.

Jet tilts his head and deepens the kiss. I don’t resist. It doesn’t even occur to me to try. I’m only feeling. Not thinking.

His tongue slips between my lips to tease mine, to stroke it, to entice a response. Without conscious thought, my body gives it. I slide mine along his, reveling in the taste of him, in the smooth warm feel of his flesh.

And then he’s dragging me out of my swing, pulling me to my feet, hauling me against him. His hands are in my hair, on my back, at the base of my spine. They’re holding and begging, pressing and demanding.

He’s hard where I’m soft. Unyielding where I give. Alluring where I drift.

I melt into him, unable to do anything else. I let my fingers slide into his hair. I grab fistfuls of it, holding him to me even though I know I should be pushing him away.

He moans into my mouth. I breathe it in. I feel it like warm caramel oozing through my veins, drowning me in sugary desire, in the heady power of our attraction.

When Jet pulls away to look down into my face, his breathing as hard as mine, his eyes are ablaze. But among the flames, I can see concern.

“Can you forgive me for that?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation, wondering if I could forgive him if he hadn’t kissed me.

“Can you forgive me if I can’t be just your project? If I can’t leave this alone?”

“Jet, I . . .” I don’t know what to say. I know what I feel, but I know that I should keep that to myself.

“Because I can’t stay away from you, Violet. I don’t want to. I know I should. But I need you. I need to have you, to be with you. I need to see if I can be the man you make me want to be.”

“Jet, I can’t make you someone else. I’ll help you in any way I can, but I can’t change who you are.”

“Then can you accept me like I am?”

Like a snowball tossed right into the center of my face, I feel his words like ice, cooling the fires of my passion.