Page 48 of Cross the Line
“Courtney’s back?” Jayden asks. “You didn’t say.”
“Yeah, she was staying with her mom while she was on a job in Kansas, and shit blew up between them because of her stepdad. Usual shit.” Auguste shrugs, his serious expression gentling. “She missed home.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Jayden says with a sigh, his fingers brushing the back of my hand before wrapping around it.
Fixing his attention on me, Auguste says, “Sammy’s fine, and we’re good. I get why you had to leave him.”
“See?” Jayden claps his shoulder. “Told you he’d be fine. Auguste is chill… Funny,” he chuckles to himself, “That’s an unintentional oxymoron. ‘Cause you know, August is summer, so it’s hot, and… chill is cool.”
“Oh my God, now the giant is a dork, too,” Christina groans at him at the same time as Auguste asks, “Are you high, man?”
“Why don’t you go peg Hillier?” Jayden throws back at Christina when she pulls a cross-eyed funny face at him.
They’re already so comfortable with each other, it makes me giddy. Christina can be a lot, but not for Jayden. He thrives on her haughty forwardness—she’s a hyper Kailey in wit and bounce.
“Fuck, asshole, why would you put that image in my head?” Auguste shivers, then gives me a quizzical grimace while Jayden and Christina veer off on a tangent I can’t track.
“No, they’re not high, and no, she isn’t going to go… you know… do things…that… to your friend.” Auguste nods once and walks off, muttering about a twilight zone.
“Now that’s taken care of, can we get a snack? I’m hangry,” Christina links her arm through mine while I keep hold of Jayden’s hand.
Our fingers are laced tight as he guides us into the bar-slash-burger spot. The atmosphere is calm, low-lit. A few of the guys I met at Matheo’s birthday party lounge at a long corner table with him.
Matheo’s gaze hooks on Christina the second he sees her, and she finally relaxes with him in sight.
I don’t miss how every pair of eyes clocks the sight of Jayden’s hand threaded in mine. My pulse spikes under the scrutiny, but I don’t let go. If anything, I hold him tighter while Christina peels off to the bar.
“We’ll go and get ready for dinner when Eli is done with Coach. My parents won’t be here for another couple hours.” Jayden kisses the top of my head as we approach the table.
Having so many eyes on me is triggering. I’m breaking out in a nervous sweat the closer we get to the table. It’s not that I care what people think of us. It’s that I want these people to like me. This team is a family, and I’ve seen how protective they are of each other.
We are a few feet away when Jayden dips his lips to my ear and whispers, “Fuck, Lucky, every time you move, I can smell him on you, and I swear to God, my mouth is watering for a taste. I want to fucking taste every inch of your skin where he’s touched you.”
Holy shit.
I trip over my feet only for him to haul me up by our linked hands, hitching me up his body, onto my tiptoes. With his other arm banded around my waist, I flatten my free hand to his chest, over his heart.
The frantic rhythm pounds into my palm as I lift my face to his. I’m dazed by the wave of need that crashes over me.
I stand frozen, glossing my eyes over his pitched lips. That sinful grin promises a catalog of ruin that scorch-marks my blood. If I had breath, I’d beg for all of it here, now.
“Breathe, Baby,” he rumbles, a drawl that rakes straight to my toes.
Easy for him to demand.
Maneuvering me to his side, he wraps my arm around his waist and his arm around my shoulders so that we are as intricately woven together as the green and amber hues in his hazel eyes.
At the table, he leaves two empty seats—Matheo’s and one for Christina—then pulls me into his lap like it’s nothing. He’s so relaxed, it’s impossible to stay anxious.
Cautious waves circle the table. The closest guy gives me a firm nod and a gentle half-smile. Blond hair tousled like he’s spent hours raking it; weariness shadows his features, a seriousness that reads older, maybe wiser.
Silence holds a beat before he shrugs. “We met at Rio’s party… Matheo’s birthday. You probably don’t remember all our names, so uhm… I’m Dylan.”
“We call him Daddy,” Jayden adds with his lips grazing my ear.
Dylan rolls his eyes and starts the tour. “That’s Ansel Reinhardt at the end of the table. Nobody pays any mind to him, unless he’s picking up Erik’s slack.”
“Like never,” Erik barks back, flicking a wet straw at Dylan.
