Page 44 of Chasing the Flame
It’s the third and fourth cards that have me shaking. The third card is the tower, which signifies that great change is coming. On the card, a proud tower stands tall, but a lightning bolt strikes its center, sending pieces of stone flying. It means that change is coming, whether I like it or not. It might be good, bad, or even terrible, and I can do nothing to stop it.
When my eyes hit the fourth card, I suck in a sharp breath. Death. A skull sits in the middle of the card, swathed in shadows. A ruby and onyx-studded athame sticks out of the skull’s eye, its blade cutting through a rose that rests along the left side of the card.
This card doesn’t always have a bad meaning, as it can and often does represent transformation. A shedding of old mindsets, cutting ties with things or people that are no longer for your highest good, or even a new spiritual awakening. Though, on the flip side, and with all the other cards I pulled…
My hands shake as I put the cards back in the deck, knocking three more times to clear it. I rise from my seat and blow out the candles, then return the pillows on the floor to their rightful place.
I can’t seem to stop the thoughts whirring through my head. They’re consuming, and worry coils in my gut like a rubber band about to snap. There’s nothing to do but walk back down the hall and get dressed. Jettson will be here soon, and I don’t have time to spiral.
So, I shove the fucked up reading to the back of my mind, and throw a pair of baggy jeans on. I pair it with a black crop top, chunky gold hoops, several bangles, and then work on my hair.
When finished, I head toward the living room and wait for Jettson to arrive. I’m just getting seated on the couch when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in!” I holler. A nervous wave of butterflies attacks my stomach, my heart galloping in my chest.
“Good morning,” Jettson says as he steps into the room and sits across from me. “You wanted to see me?”
I bite my lower lip, nervously wringing my hands in my lap. “Yes, but I guess it would be easier if I showed you.” Sighing, I unlock my phone, sliding it across the coffee table to Jettson. “Look in the chat inbox and at the messages from an unknown number.”
My cheeks heat, and I know a blush is climbing up my neck. I have no idea how much Jettson knows already. I watch his face go from confused to shocked then finally… pissed. “Who sent these to you?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, and Jettson swears. “They agreed to meet in a public setting today, at the diner just outside town.” His eyes are burning with rage, his jaw clenched as he shakes his head at me.
“You’re not going,” he says, giving me a look that could freeze hell. “That’s way too fucking dangerous, and you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
His words send a ripple of frustration through me, and I narrow my eyes at him. I’m tired of being told what to do.
Something snaps inside me, and the anger comes pouring out. “Jettson Noxwood, you’renotmy husband, and you damn sure aren’t my father. He’s dead and buried six feet under, so I know you aren’t trying to tell me what to do. Because that would be a poor decision on your part.”
Jettson stops mid-sentence, his rebuttal dying on his lips. There’s a hint of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s fighting an internal battle. He’s staring at me with such intensity that I’m convinced flames are licking at my insides. His mouth parts, his eyes darkening with an unspoken promise. Jettson’s knuckles are white, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch he’s sitting on.
His lips twitch, and I see it the minute the mask drops. Hesitation gives way to confidence, desire, and longing. It’s heady, intoxicating, and I want to drown in it. A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he says, “Careful now.” His voice deepens, taking on a husky quality as he leans closer. “Don’t be a brat, babe, it gets me excited. And unless you want to get down on your knees and take my cock in your mouth as punishment, I suggest you lose the tone and let’s find a compromise.”
I suck in a sharp breath, anger rushing through my body at his presumptive attitude. My mouth hangs open, and I stare at him with wide eyes. I can’t believe he just fucking said that. “What thefuckdid you just say to me?!”
Jettson’s grin deepens, taking on a wickedly sinful quality. He moves from the couch, prowling toward me with predatory intent. I jump up, desperate to put some room between us, backing up until my back rests against the wall.
Lava pools in my belly, sending a delicious wave of heat straight through my entire body, lighting me up from head to toe. He stalks toward me, surrounding me but not trapping me in place. He stares into my eyes deeply, his face inches from mine, his palms resting on the wall beside my head. “You heard me,” he whispers. “And I think you like my dirty mouth, but just won’t admit it. Come on now, you know we’ve been dancing around this for a while, both of us pretending we don’t feel anything for the other.” He leans in closer, his mouth parted, and my heart pounds in my chest.
He’s about to kiss me. I feel how he shifts, his hand moving slowly, cupping my face tenderly. “You and I both know resisting is futile… I’ve been trying to stay away from you for fucking weeks… And just look at how wellthatworked.” The words are hushed, his voice deepening to a low growl. “That fuckerreallydoesn’t deserve you.”
Jettson’s thumb brushes against my cheek, sending a ripple of pleasure down my spine. His words have me wondering why I’m fucking fighting this pull between us? What’s stopping me from giving in to this feeling?
The answer smacks me right in the face… not a damn thing. He leans in, stopping just an inch away from my mouth. I don’t know why but I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire fucking life. Jettson seems to be waiting for something, permission perhaps?
My heart is pounding in my chest, anticipation crawling up my spine at an agonizingly slow pace. I weave my fingers through his hair, relishing in the scents of pine and sandalwood flooding off him. There’s an underlying smell, something that reminds me of pure masculinity. The scent wraps around me, sucking me in and burrowing itself under my skin.
A tingling sensation ripples across my skin, fire erupting in its wake. It barrels into my core, sending another delicious haze of need over me.I don’t think, I just act. With my free hand, I grab hold of Jettson’s shirt, fisting my fingers into the fabric. I run my other hand through his hair and tug. “You’re right. He doesn’t deserve me,” I whisper, my eyes glued to his lips.
“Averie,” he breathes, his voice pleading and filled with desire. It’s music to my ears, and the confirmation I needed. Leaning in, I claim his mouth with a gentle kiss. I knew it was over the minute my lips brushed against his—that my life would never be the same. That I would never be the same again. The kiss is soft at first, reverent even, like we’re taking our time learning each other.
I melt into him, moaning when his teeth graze my bottom lip. Then, a volcano erupts. The tension in the atmosphere heightens to a crescendo. I match his ferocity with every kiss, tugging his hair and relishing in the groan that escapes his lips. This haze is so fucking exhilarating, sucking me in and pulling me under.
It’s earth shattering, the feelings so goddamn consuming that I’m afraid I’m going to explode. His tongue flicks against mine at a punishing pace, and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he devours me. His fingers have found their way into my hair, his free hand gripping my leg and hoisting it up and around his waist.
He slides that hand down my throat possessively, squeezing a little as he grinds his erection into me. A gasp spills from my lips, then a moan. Jettson smothers it with another kiss that’s just as mind-blowing as the first. It seems to stretch on for eternity, the two of us lost in one another.
I’veneverfelt this way before. Nor have I ever been so wholly seen or cherished. Feelings of desire, respect, and something dangerously close to love flood the air around us. I can’t tell what’s mine, and truthfully, I don’t fucking care.
When Jettson pulls back, we’re both panting, our lungs heaving as we come back down to earth. We lean our heads together, my palms resting on his chest. “That was…” he says, his fingers trailing my collarbone.
