Jump (LOST BOYS Book 4) by Emilia Finn

Author:Emilia Finn [Finn, Emilia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd
Published: 2023-08-03T16:00:00+00:00

Ruiz

WE GOT THIS. DATE NIGHT. 100%. IT’S FINE.

She’s gone for no more than nine minutes. Because she’s a rule-follower. A sensitive soul and empathetic worrier whose heart would shrivel at the thought of me sitting out here all alone and waiting.

Anarchy, my ass.

But there isn’t a single piece of me that wants to complain as she shuffles along the hall in long pyjama pants of purple tartan—not sure which family she’s representing in battle with that color scheme—and a cute baggy shirt that would eat her up in too much fabric, if not for the slouchy collar that shows off her shoulder, and the inch of midriff I catch beneath the bottom hem.

Best of all, she wears fuzzy purple socks with little grippy dots on the bottom, so I hear her approach—schwp, schwp, schwp—long before I see her.

Her hair is damp, with a braid framing her face on each side, and her lips are a darker shade than they were ten minutes ago; not from lipstick or gloss, but because she spent her entire time away from me biting them in worry, and overthinking our ‘date night’.

Everyone is determined to insert Ainsley into every conversation and interaction we ever have. But I… just want to live. And love. And survive without sending myself insane.

So while I allow Ains’s turnouts to hang at the firehouse, and let the crew talk about her like she’s still on-duty, while I let Nixon and Axel and every other asshole in this town make a game of bringing her into as many conversations as humanly possible, none of those people are Vivian.

And Vivian is the only person I’ve met who wields the magic that allows me to relax and heal and not obsess over a tragedy I couldn’t stop.

“You look…” I study Viv from the top of her moist hair, down to the fuzz of her grippy socks. I run my tongue along my bottom lip, and revel a bit in her discomfort. “Well,” I cough and sit up taller, which only makes the woman blush. “I don’t wanna sound like a total pig, but I think you look entirely edible.”

Her cheeks burn hotter, and her hands grow more tense in front of her body. But best of all, her nipples peak beneath her shirt and give me the answer I’ve been wondering for weeks.

Was what we had strictly a one-night thing? Was her attraction for me, or for the mask, the suit, and the anonymity? Does she still vibrate for me? Does her body still speak for her, when her words can’t come out the way we both want?

I’d say I have my answer.

“You’re making it weird.” She folds her arms to cover her chest. “Stop.”

“What?” I laugh and grab the television remote, if only to allow her a moment of not being watched. “What am I making weird?”

“This!” She flings out her arms and plods across the room. Grip, release. Grip, release. Dropping onto the couch so the cushions puff up, she snatches a blanket from the back and sweeps it across her lap the way a superhero might pull on a cape.

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