I stood quickly, wiped off my tears, and stared at the wall. I didn’t have enough courage to face Damon again, especially without a shirt. The door opened and closed. My stomach plummeted, but I still tried to act tough, “Try and touch me again, loser, I’ll bite off something you might want to keep.” He didn’t say anything. I whirled around, ready for the battle.Jesse stood there, eyes focused on my face instead of my brassiere; that was a first for me today. The tattoos on his forearms distorted as his muscles clenched. He was ready to hurt someone. “Who . . . touched . . . you?” he whispered.“Oh, Jesse!” I launched myself at him. He opened his arms and I didn’t hesitate to wrap myself around him. He smelled like himself, musk and sunshine. I inhaled deeply, loving the pressure of his muscular form, this incredible sense that I was safe and right where I should be. “Who?” he asked again.“Later,” I murmured, aligning my lips with his. He sighed, softly brushing his lips over mine.
