“Okay.” Jared fell silent, though questions still boiled feverishly in his head. If she ever confessed to Max hurting her, hitting her or otherwise, he wouldn’t need her permission. He would whip the cowardly little prick’s ass. Damn the consequences.
And…had she slept with him? The mention of dirty text messages had sent a jolt of alarm through Jared. It was none of his business, of course, and he would never even dream of asking. But he hated the thought that she might have given herself to someone so undeserving of that particular honor.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she told him. She crossed her long legs and rested her elbows on her knees. “I heard…” Her voice trailed away, and something changed about her expression. Hurt crept into her brown eyes, stealing the twinkle that had been there for him. “I was indirectly informed the other day that I talk a lot about my problems. I really appreciate you having me over, and I feel pretty good tonight. It’s the best I’ve felt in a while. I don’t want to fu—um, don’t want to mess that up by talking too much about him.”
“You know you don’t have to censor yourself with me.”
“I know.”
It was hard to imagine Starla looking bashful, but she was pulling it off right now. A hint of pink stained her cheeks, and she absently picked at the fingernail tipping one long, graceful, silver-ringed finger. “But?” he prodded, desperate to follow where she was leading with this. She looked as if she had much more to say.
“You’ve been so great to me, and I feel like I’ve been nothing but a foul-mouthed drag every time we’ve seen each other.”
“Not at all. Don’t think that. You can talk to me about any damn thing you need to, and I’ll listen. I’ll even shut up, if you need me to, and let you do all the talking.”
Her brown eyes searched his, though he wondered what she looked for there. Insincerity? He meant every word. Jared didn’t know why this girl had touched him so, but she had. Maybe something in her called to his primal, overprotective tendencies—and God knew he had those—but it was more than that. He wanted to see everything work out for her, yes, and he itched to fix her problems if she’d let him. It ran deeper than those urges. She told him things she’d told no one else. She trusted him that much though she barely knew him, and Jared would bet the farm Starla wasn’t the kind of girl who gave trust easily. He’d bet that her lifestyle—her partying and her impossible crushes and her habit of hooking up with the wrong guys—was all about one thing: keeping people at arm’s length.
But what the hell did he know.
He did know that when she scooted toward him, he watched her advance as his breath hitched in his chest. It was a bit of an awkward journey for her. He didn’t let her make it alone. Leaning forward, sliding the tip of his finger under her chin, he glided in to meet her lips with his. Simply, effortlessly, as if they’d done this a thousand times already…but the feel, the softness, the taste of her mouth was all brand-new. Heat and sweetness and the naughty edge he knew she would bring, sending warmth through his blood. He slid his hands into her hair, holding her head just firmly enough not to let her get control. He caressed her lips with his, kissing one corner of her mouth and then the other. Tasting the full pout of her lower lip as her breath rushed over his skin, as she parted her lips in invitation.
He didn’t accept it, not yet. He waited until her hands, trembling, clenched the front of his shirt. He waited until her short bursts of breath were ragged and desperate. He waited until she’d practically climbed into his lap, until their gazes collided for one brief moment and he saw pure, scalding desire in her dark eyes. Only then did he tease his way inside, savoring the hoarse whimper from her throat, his tongue flickering in at last to taste the deeper, sweeter flavors—
“Ooooooh!” erupted from the hallway.
Jerking away as if she’d been burned, Starla catapulted back to her original position with a barrage of apologies. “Ash, Mia! Back to your room,” Jared commanded. The little blonde head peeking around the corner disappeared. He heard his daughters scamper away in a flurry of giggles.
Starla was still apologizing. “Sorry. Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His heart thudded hard, and he shifted positions to hide the evidence of his arousal straining against his zipper. Jesus. He hadn’t wanted so much in years…
But Starla, still spooked, bolted up to her feet and began collecting the items she’d brought over, still muttering, “Oh my God” as she did so.
He could still taste her. He wanted to taste more. “You’re not going, are you?”
“I think I’d better. I shouldn’t— I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.” Jared climbed to his feet with a wince. “You didn’t—we didn’t do anything wrong.”