Thirteen

Thirteen

DESI

There is something comforting about finally finding my normal with my roommates. We move around the kitchen, each taking a task to hurry along cleanup after dinner. No bickering about who has the easier job or trying to weasel our way out of the chore. Jace stands at the sink, loading the plates into the dishwasher while Cannon wipes down the counters. I'm packing the leftover pizza into glass containers. I like when we fall into a natural groove like this.

Cannon moves beside me, running a wet dish cloth in circles over the granite. "Pardon me. I just need—" He presses his front to my back, maneuvering around me as he continues to clean.

"You just need me to move," I say with a laugh.

"Nah. I'm happy to have you in my way. It gives me an excuse to get close to you."

I look at him over my shoulder, meeting the playfulness in his eyes. "You just spent an entire meal rubbing shoulders with me."

"True, but I kind of like you trapped like this."

Cannon's words warm low in my stomach. He has never shied away from a chance to flirt, but my body reacts in a new way with him this close.

"Then by all means," I say, turning back to the counter and finishing my task, lowering my gaze to the granite with a smirk. "Trap away. I'm one hundred percent willing to be caught."

"So I've heard." He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and continues on his way.

I place the pizza in the refrigerator and move to the sink next to Jace. "Mind if I wash my hands?"

He steps to the side, giving me room to reach the soap dispenser. "Cannon seems to be a good candidate for your . . . quest," he says, keeping his voice low so only I can hear him.

"Quest?" I say with a chuckle.

"Do you have a better name for it?"

"Not really, but quest makes it sound like some sort of noble cause that will save the universe."

Jace bumps my shoulder with his. "Think about it. It kind of is. You're keeping balance in the force. Good and evil."

I lift an eyebrow and quirk my mouth at the thought. It's a strange way of thinking about my attempt to find an eternal partner, but he's right. It kind of is a quest, minus the swords and horseback riding that come to mind when he calls it that. "I guess you're right. But it's not really good and evil. More like tranquility and mayhem." I glance behind me to see Cannon rummaging through the freezer. "And as far as Cannon goes, he's a possibility. I like spending time with him."

Jace shrugs and says, "He's an easy solution to your problem."

Solution to my problem?I don't like the way that sounds. In fact, there's a gut-roiling feeling just talking about Cannon as an option. Maybe it's because we're whispering about him when he's on the other side of the kitchen. Whatever it is, it doesn't feel right.

I turn to face Jace and open my mouth to tell him that maybe considering Cannon isn't the best idea. But the words never come out.

"Who's up for shots before we start movie night?" Cannon asks, holding up a bottle of amber liquid.

Jace and I exchange a glance at Cannon's random question. I wonder if his brain is going to the other night when he thought someone had drugged his drink. He was so worried about losing control. Come to think of it, I can't recall a time when he had more than one beer.

"Why?" Jace asks, drawing out the word.

"Just because. Haven't y'all ever done shots just because?"

"I mean, yeah, in college, but not in years."

"Desi?"

"Not really," I admit. "But I'm always up to try new things."

Cannon and I lock eyes and then drag our gazes to Jace, who just sighs.

"The shot glasses are on the top shelf in the cabinet next to the fridge."

Cannon gets to work setting up a shot for each of us before handing them out and lifting his glass. "To a random Tuesday night!"

Jace and I each pick up a glass and raise it. We clink them together, say "Cheers," and toss them back.

"Fuck!" I say, hissing as the strong, spicy liquid burns all the way down my esophagus. "What the hell is this?"

Cannon raises an eyebrow and turns the bottle around so I can see the name, and the laugh that escapes me is nearly hysterical.

The cinnamon whiskey has none other than a dancing red devil at the top of the label. What are the odds?

"What's so funny?" Cannon asks.

"Oh, I don't know, I—"

"Want another?" Jace interrupts, and I'm grateful.

I exhale and still feel the burn in my throat, but say, "Yeah, why not?"

He pours Cannon and me another shot but skips over his own glass. I hate that he clings to control even in the one place he should feel the safest. None of us would let anything bad happen within these walls, but Jace doesn't seem to trust anything or anyone but himself. And sometimes I wonder if he even trusts his own judgment. Damaged. He is so damaged. All I can do is hope that he'll choose to repair the emotional hurt that accident caused him.

Cannon and I clink glasses and take the second shot, but before another can be poured, I put the bottle back in the freezer, rinse out the glasses, and set them in the dishwasher.

"What are you doing?" Jace asks. "You didn't have to—"

"I know," I say softly with a glance in Cannon's direction, hoping he meets me in the middle here. If he doesn't, it'll be a huge strike against him in the running for potential eternal partner.

My shoulders sag in relief when he says, "Yeah, man, I don't want to drink too much. You ever had a cinnamon whiskey hangover?" He blows out a breath that makes his lips rattle. "No thanks." He slides between us and throws his arms over our shoulders. "Let's go watch this movie."

Thirty minutes into what Jace dubs the "sexiest sci-fi film of all time," my head is on Cannon's shoulder and I am on the verge of falling asleep from pure boredom. This movie is terrible. The dialogue is cheesy, and I am convinced Jace chose it as a joke. I look over to tell him as much when I see him looking between me and Cannon with a pensive expression on his face.

"What are you looking at?" I hiss.

He clears his throat and crosses his arms. "I was just thinking that you two look comfortable."

Cannon's perfect mouth pulls into a wide grin. He puts his arm around me and says, "I'm cozy. Great movie, good friend, and a beautiful girl. It's a good night."

I snuggle deeper against Cannon's arm and place my hand on his chest. His white T-shirt is soft under my cheek, and I can't stop myself from taking a deep breath of his cologne. The scent of orange with a hint of spice reminds me of warm summer nights in Infernis.

It wouldn't be so bad to spend those nights with him. I could give him a chance. Couldn't I? There's no logical reason why it felt a little bit off when Jace mentioned it. It just . . . did. And that's not a real reason. So why not cuddle up to Cannon right now and enjoy tonight as potentially a little bit more than friends? Potentially.

"You smell good," I whisper against his T-shirt, nervous flutters making an appearance in my belly, as if I've never complimented the man before now.

"You always smell like sweet fruit," he says.

I cringe, burying my face against his chest. I'm sure he means it as a good thing, but it's awkward, like he was struggling to find something nice to say. It's so not like him. He normally lets the compliments roll off his tongue.

The unease is quickly swept away when he lifts a curl that has fallen across my cheek and wraps it around his finger. I watch as the red strands cover the warm brown of his skin. They complement each other so well. The slight tug on my hair sends a bolt of electricity through me.

It crosses my mind that maybe he's nervous too. We've been out together for appetizers, and out with Jace, but we've never been quite this close in a private place before. We were in a position sort of like this at the bar that first night he took me out, but we were surrounded by people.

Not here. Tonight, we're at home on our couch, and it's just us.

And Jace.

My eyebrow dips as I look at Jace from the corner of my eye. He's looking at the screen, but his fingers are drumming against the arm of the couch, as if he's pretending to watch the movie but really, he's waiting to see what happens next over here.

What is he thinking? Why do I care so much? He's not the one with his arm around me. Cannon's the one who's showing me affection and attention. Who's open enough to do more than lock eyes with me through an open window during a stolen moment of passion.

So I turn my attention back to Cannon and trail my fingertips from his thigh to his knee as he continues to twist my curl around his knuckle. His skin is soft, and I wonder if my touch is affecting him at all.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his leg twitching under my fingers.

"I just thought it felt nice to be touched, and you might like it too." I continue drawing swirling patterns on his thigh. He adjusts his hips and presses his cheek against the top of my head, planting a kiss there.

"It does feel good," he says into my hair.

I let my fingertips wander around his leg, exploring the strong muscles of his thigh and the dips on the side of his knee. Feeling a bit bolder, I inch my finger under the hem of his basketball shorts; with this innocent touch, I hope he'll take things a little further.

But he doesn't.

"Did Desi ever tell you that she's never really kissed someone before?" Jace says to Cannon, leaning forward so he can see his face. "She's hoping that one of the guys she dates will give her the kind of kiss that leaves her wanting more."

Cannon's fingers stop playing with my hair, and his heart beats faster under my ear. "Yeah. She might have mentioned that in passing."

I should be irritated at Jace, but I know he's just trying to help. Maybe reminding Cannon of that will be the push he needs to make a move. I mean, it's not as though he hasn't mentioned wanting to take me out and get to know me on another level. Here's his chance. I'm literally giving him an opening to take it.

I don't remove my hand from his leg. In fact, I amp everything up by moving my fingertips toward his inner thigh, and this time, I force myself to maintain a featherlight touch on his skin. When I hear his breath hitch, I glance up at him through my lashes to make sure he's okay with what I'm doing as I slide my hand back down to safer territory.

Jace keeps his eyes on the television and speaks like every word out of his mouth is an afterthought as he says, "I always took Desi for the kind of girl who would melt if a guy just placed his hand on the side of her face and rubbed his thumb slowly over her bottom lip."

My eyes widen as I lift one of my legs to the couch, pretending to readjust, kicking Jace right in the thigh while shooting him a look that screams Too much help. My nostrils flare as my friend just smiles and doesn't break his focus on the movie as he mutters, "I'm just sayin'."

I part my lips to reply but don't get to because a warm palm is turning my face back toward Cannon, and when my eyes meet his, they're bright blue and laser focused right on me.

Cannon's thumb barely grazes my lip before he drops his hand to mine and moves it back to where it was before Jace's unsolicited advice mic drop. "Is it true, Desi? What he said? Would you like it if I did that?"

I suck in a breath before whispering on a shaky exhale, "Yes, Cannon. I would."

He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. His breath is warm, laced with the cinnamon from the liquor. The kiss is gentle and innocent, like butterfly wings fluttering past my lips. When he pulls away, I'm hungry for more. So much more. It's just a taste of what a real kiss can feel like.

I grip the front of his shirt and move a little closer to him, eager to feel his mouth on mine again. He brushes his thumb over my cheekbone, staring down at me. Seconds tick by but he doesn't come back for more. The warmth pooling in the center of my being begins to chill. Perhaps that was all he wanted.

"That was . . . sweet."

I tilt my head to look back at Jace. He no longer pretends that the movie playing on the television is more intriguing than what's happening beside him. His elbow sits on the arm of the couch with his chin resting on his thumb. His eyes are a deep ash as they lock with mine.

"It was sweet," I say.

"From the minute I met you, you were anything but sweet. You're fire and destruction and temptation." He looks away from me to Cannon. "She wants you to ruin her."

"She what?" Cannon asks in confusion.

Jace stands and grabs his bottle of water from the coffee table. "Don't hold back with her. Take what you want and show her what she needs."

My jaw drops like it is unhinged. Those words. Those words do things to my body that no person has done before. I ache in a way I didn't know was possible. If Cannon's kiss left me hungry for more, Jace just made me ravenous.

Jace climbs the stairs, and I continue staring long after he disappears.

Cannon places his hand on my upper arm and says, "Is that true? Is that what you want?"

My gaze slides from the stairs to Cannon, and I swallow hard.

Is that what I want? Do I want Cannon to "ruin me"?

If by ruin me, Jace meant a kiss that makes every nerve ending in my body crackle with electricity, turning me into a live wire, a connection that feels primal and raw in nature instead of tentative and sweet, a touch that scorches every square inch of my skin . . . then yes.

I nod and lift my hand to his, intertwining our fingers and bringing our joined hands to his thigh, resting them there as I say, "Yes. It's true. That's what I want."

"You're sure, Desi? So much of this is new to you. I don't want to overstep. It's all right to take things slow and learn what you want."

I appreciate Cannon's concern; younger me would have been charmed by it. I'm years, decades, beyond that. I've spent countless nights fantasizing about what I want. I'm not na?ve. I don't need to ease into experiences I'm ready to have. I want to dive in headfirst.

"I'm sure."

Cannon bites down on his lower lip and grabs my hips, arranging me so I'm straddling his lap. He cups my face again, but this time when his thumb traces my lip, it's more adventurous. The tip dips into my mouth and slides across my tongue. His expression darkens when I close my lips around him and gently pull away with a kiss.

"You don't know how long I've imagined this," he says, gliding his hand to the base of my neck and pulling me to him.

"I think I do. I started thinking about it the minute you propositioned me that first day," I tease against his lips.

He captures my mouth with his. There is no hesitation, no gentle, no sweet. His tongue seeks mine and he hums when he tastes me for the first time. My fingers dig into his shoulders as I give myself over to the sensation. His hand runs down my spine and stops at the small of my back. He pulls me so close that I can feel the hard hills and planes of his body through our clothes.

The kiss is everything I imagined a perfect kiss to be. The glide of his tongue playing with mine and the stings of pleasure when he nips my lip. His hands roaming over my back and sliding into my hair. It's passionate, hot, and . . .

Cannon slows the tempo, giving me two chaste pecks before pulling away. I move to sit beside him and catch my breath. I sit staring straight ahead at the now blank TV screen, my brain scrambled, bewilderment washing over me.

That had been the kiss I'd always wanted. The kiss Jace had described. Cannon had done everything right—the heat, the passion, even the sting of pain I'd only admitted I wanted in the deepest part of my heart—it was all there.

But I felt . . . nothing. Nothing besides the knowledge that that should have been a kiss that left my panties drenched and me desperate to bring Cannon to my room for the rest of the night.

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and peer at Cannon cautiously. When I see the same expression on his face that I imagine is on mine, the knot in my stomach dissolves just a bit.

"Cannon?"

"Desi?"

"I—how was that for you?" I blurt, unsure of how to start this conversation.

I can almost see his brain search for the right words to say, the ones that won't leave me in tears. It makes me want to hysterically laugh. We've created a solid friendship, and he shouldn't feel the need to mince words with me.

"It was nice."

My laughter is loud and truly happy. "I couldn't have said it better myself. That kiss was everything I imagined it would be, but . . ." I let out a breath that makes my lips rattle and lift my shoulders in a shrug.

He chuckles and relaxes into the couch cushions. "It's strange that you and I get along so well, but there isn't an ounce of sexual chemistry. Not that you weren't a good kisser, you were."

"Please. You don't have to explain it. I was there," I say, holding up my hand.

"So now what?"

I shrug and lean into him. "We just enjoy each other's company. And we don't have to sit through another uncomfortable movie night with Jace trying to orchestrate a make-out session between us."

"That works for me," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder in a tight side-hug.

We fall right back into the easy friendship we've built over the last month. I'm happy that nothing has to change. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have Cannon to share my frustrations with. Especially since most of those frustrations revolve around Jace.

Jace used to frustrate me with all his rules, but now I just find them endearing. Now he frustrates me because although it's clear to everyone else in this house and probably the old lady who lives across the street that he's attracted to me, he's pushing me and Cannon to share passionate, heat-filled kisses while he goes to his room alone.

Jace, who fucked his fist while watching me ride my hand through our windows and told me to come. And has yet to bring it up with me.

Yeah, it's safe to say that I have a bone to pick with Jace Wilder.