Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

I stared at his lips and noticed how perfect they were. I secretly used to call them sugar stamps because every woman coveted his sweet kisses, but I’d never seen him stamp anyone.

 

Jericho had the most sensual mouth—the kind that when his tongue swept over it, you wondered what he tasted like. And that man knew how to work his tongue. He could stare at you from the opposite end of the table, slightly drawing in his bottom lip and licking it with a slow and deliberate stroke, only showing you the tip of his tongue. I used to think of it as his opening act, and it’s how he got the girls to stay for the big show.

 

He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and popped it in his mouth, letting it flick up and down between his lips. Jericho eyed me, from my damp shirt all the way down to my bare feet.

 

“Never thought I’d see you again, Isabelle.”

 

“How come you’ve never called me Izzy?”

 

He bit the cigarette between his teeth and rocked on his heels. I snatched the stick from his mouth and threw it down the hall.

 

“Quit trying to be the badass rock star in front of me. I know the real you. Not the one you pretend to be because maybe that’s who you think you are now. This is an image—a projection of what you thought a rock star was supposed to be to women, the public, and maybe yourself. I remember the guy who used to laugh so hard that he’d cry. I remember the guy who laid out a blanket in the back of a pickup truck in a motel parking lot so we’d have a place to sleep and watch the stars. I remember a guy who beat up four Shifters in the biggest fight I’d ever seen, all because one of them called me a whore. I remember a guy who canceled a big show so he could buy me donuts at the coffee shop on my birthday.” Tears wet my lashes, and I wiped them away. “What happened to that guy? Is he gone for good? Because if he is, I don’t want to keep having these run-ins. What existed between us was years ago; we’re in different places now. If we can’t settle what’s between us because of the shadows from our past, then I may need to move on. I’m not the quiet girl you met at a bus stop on a rainy Saturday—I’m tougher. But that’s kind of how life molded me.”

 

With a stoic expression, Jericho backed up against the wall and slid to the floor, draping his arms over his bent knees.

 

I knelt in front of him and searched his eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

 

When his eyes lifted, they were remorseful. I felt the pain of decades within them—years of being lost.

 

“Are you mated?” he asked.

 

I sat back on my legs. “We just met. I’m not mated, but I’m in a relationship. We’ve been living together for a month. You know me—I’m as monogamous as they come. So the touching thing isn’t working for me. I don’t know how serious it is with Hawk after the stunt he pulled, but until we’re officially broken up, I’m off-limits. Thanks for taking care of those guys at the bar. Sometimes customers get touchy-feely, and I always put them in their place, but it doesn’t erase the humiliation I feel when I’m seeing a man.”

 

“You didn’t initiate it,” he said in my defense.

 

“You’re right. I also didn’t initiate it in this hall when you touched me a minute ago, and you know that was more than a friendly gesture.” I gave him a look of reproach and sighed.

 

“I won’t put my hands on you again,” he promised, his voice edged with anger. “Do you want to tell me why you let your boyfriend wrap his fingers around your throat?”

 

“We had a fight, but it’s not what you think.”

 

“What he did was unconscionable. A real man never puts his mark on a woman.” He paused for a beat and sharpened his gaze. “Has he ever handled you like that before?”

 

I averted my eyes. Hawk wasn’t an abusive man, but he could be a little rough. He knew I didn’t like to have my ass slapped in the morning but did it anyway because he thought it was funny. Sometimes he jerked me around by the arm, but there was never any hitting or violent behavior between us, not like there was in the house I grew up in. That was the level of violence I compared everything against, so anything less was manageable.

 

Jericho nodded with an intolerant glare, as if I’d given him the answer he wanted. “Did the fight with your boyfriend have to do with the jerk-off who threw you against the bar and knocked you out?” He leaned forward.

 

“Someone’s after Hawk, and they think they can find him through me. Hawk’s lying low until the dust settles. I have no idea where he is, but it doesn’t seem to matter to these guys.”

 

Jericho rose to his feet and walked around me. “So you have someone after you and no place to stay.”

 

I got up and squeezed the ends of my wet hair. “You summed it up very nicely, Jericho.”

 

“This isn’t funny, Isabelle. You’re staying here.”

 

“No,” I said, moving past him. “That would be a disaster waiting to happen.” I jogged down the stairs with him close behind.

 

“You can’t wander around in a city full of Shifters.”

 

“Sure I can!”