“Huh?”

“I’m staying here tonight. I can’t take the risk of the attacker coming back.”

I scratched at my neck awkwardly. “Um, I was actually going to sleep there, since Lola’s sick. I don’t want to catch her flu.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Jack’s gaze grew hot, his eyes smouldering. I never thought smouldering was actually a real thing until I met him.

“You can lie on top of me if you like. Better yet, just sit on my face.”

I stared at him in silence, mouth hanging open. He was so…lewd sometimes. It unsettled me to think that if anyone else had said that to me, I’d be disgusted. But Jack managed to make the stark obscenity sound appealing. I flushed, and a tingle radiated down my spine.

“That’s…that’s…that’s a really inappropriate thing to say to someone.”

I could feel his gaze right then like it was a physical touch. “True, but you’re not just anyone to me.”

“Who am I to you?” I asked, unable to help myself.

He looked at me for a long, endless moment. “Someone.”

I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it still made me feel hot all over. My heart beat hard just for him. It felt euphoric to be someone to Jack, and I knew from deep within me that I wanted to be his only someone. I wasn’t his only someone, though. There was still Julie with her bitchy looks and cruel words that hid behind her pretty face and fake beaming smiles.

“You’re someone to me, too,” I whispered into the quiet. We stayed like that for a long time: me standing in the middle of the room, him sitting on the chair, having a silent conversation until Violet came in, completely unaware of the tension.

“Lille, Lola’s asking for you,” she said, and I grabbed onto her words as an escape. Otherwise, I’d never be free of the prison that was Jack McCabe’s sexy stare.

***

Despite my plans to do otherwise, I ended up sleeping with Lola in her bed, her small frame wrapped up in my arms. She’d been so distraught and jittery that I decided I’d put up with catching the flu because she needed me, and I didn’t want to leave her on her own. I knew that if I were in her place, I wouldn’t want to be alone, either. Violet had to be healthy for her performances this week. I was much less vital to the circus and therefore could afford to get sick. And I had a strong immune system, so maybe I wouldn’t catch it.

I woke early, Lola still in my arms. Gently extricating myself from her, I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, needing to pee. I caught sight of Jack on the couch, still sleeping. I’d given him my duvet last night, and felt warm and fuzzy inside to think of him being able to smell me on the fabric. His deep breathing filled the camper and it was a gorgeous sound. With my dad out of the picture, I’d never really experienced living with a strong masculine presence.

My bladder felt full and heavy, and it was a relief to finally go. When I was leaving the bathroom, only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, my gaze flicked to Jack to see he wasn’t asleep anymore.

He lay with his arm behind his head, watching me. His legs hung off the edge of the couch because he was so tall. I cringed to think of him hearing me pee, which was ridiculous, because it was a perfectly natural bodily function. There should be no shame in peeing.

His eyes ran down my body, from my face to my neck to my chest, lingering on my bare legs the longest. I thought I had nice legs. They weren’t too fat, or worse, too thin, and they were long enough to be considered attractive. I felt myself blushing hotly and staring at the carpeted floor like it was fascinating.

“That was by far the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had,” he said, his deep voice hitting me deliciously at the pit of my stomach. Yeah, I definitely enjoyed listening to Jack speak first thing in the morning.

“That’s because the couches in these camper vans were built for hobbits, and if you lived in Middle Earth, you’d definitely be one of the elves,” I shot back, and received the most delectable low chuckle in response. It sent a thrill right down to my toes. I felt his eyes on me as I walked to the kitchen and popped the kettle on.

“Do you want a cup of tea? Or coffee, maybe?”

He sat up and rubbed his hand along his jaw, where there was an attractive bit of stubble growing. “Coffee. Thank you.”

I glanced at him briefly, allowed myself a second to enjoy his naked chest, then focused on making his drink. I’d seen him topless before, of course, but that was when he was onstage, or from afar as he helped build the Spiegeltent, not up close in a tiny camper van, his presence soaking up all the oxygen. Perhaps that was why I was suddenly having difficulty remembering to breathe. I heard the floor creak, and then a moment later I felt his heat behind me as he brought his hands to my hips and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured in my ear, all gravelly. I swear I was wet already. His voice, his closeness, his subtle touch — it all worked to soften me, make me a welcoming host for whatever he wanted to give.

“Hi,” I squeaked, spooning instant coffee into two cups and trying to focus on keeping my hands from trembling. Then his lips were on my neck, his hot, wet, open mouth sucking my skin, and I ended up dropping the spoon, coffee granules spilling over the counter.

“Jack,” I protested, but my voice was more air than sound, and it did nothing to stop him. I gripped the edge of the counter for support, my legs growing weak. His deft hands spun me around to face him, and his mouth left my neck. He stared down at me, eyes roaming my face, my mouth in particular.

“You’ve got pretty lips,” he said, cupping my jaw, then lifting his thumb to my mouth. I stood there, immobile, as he rubbed across my lips and dipped inside. Jack groaned as his thumb went in, watching with rapt attention, and I shuddered at the invasion. He started to move it slowly in and out, and I swallowed back a moan. My tongue touched his thumb and he hissed, hips pressing into me, his erection hard and hot against my stomach.

I surrendered completely, body limp, as he invaded my mouth, and I welcomed it every time he went deeper. I imagined doing this to his cock, taking all of him in, and the dark, simmering look in his gaze told me he was imagining the exact same thing.

I broke away from him abruptly the second I heard Violet’s bedroom door creak open. Jack retreated back to the couch and casually sat, like nothing had even happened.

“Whoa, McCabe, put a top on, would you?” said Violet, giving him a cranky glare. “I don’t wanna see that shit first thing in the morning.”

And she sounded like she genuinely didn’t. It boggled my mind, because I couldn’t imagine any heterosexual, red-blooded female not wanting to see a topless Jack first thing in the morning. Topless Jacks were what mornings of dreams were made of. Then again, I had just been enjoying his thumb in my mouth, so perhaps I was biased.

Silently, I returned to making the coffee, cleaning up the spilt granules and making a third cup for Violet. Much to my disappointment, Jack pulled on a shirt, and we sat drinking, getting our caffeine fixes and quietly discussing how to go about dealing with what happened last night. There wasn’t much we could do, given that Lola wouldn’t let us call the police, but Jack said he’d let Marina know and inform the others, make sure they were on the lookout for any strange activity.

Every time I looked at him now, I blushed. I mean, he’d gone down on me outside just the other night, and somehow I was more embarrassed about what had happened this morning. There was something about the stark daylight and the raw sexuality of how he touched me that made me feel too hot under my skin.

When he left to go back to his place and take a shower, I finally felt like I could breathe again. Violet made a few back-handed comments about unresolved sexual tension, which only served to put my nerves well and truly on edge. If Jack could get me this worked up by barely touching me, then I shuddered to think how it would be if we had sex. I needed an outlet, a bit of stress relief, so I set up my easel outside and started painting.