Instead, I hold his eyes and play with the lapels of my orange sequined blazer. “So you like my outfit?” I smile and spin for him.

“I do. It’s very Jamie. Sparkly and loud on the outside, dark and mysterious underneath.”

“Help me take it off.”

Zarar stares for a moment before he starts to get up. He doesn’t break eye contact as I step forward and push him back down onto the couch.

He studies me for a second before shifting to get up again. I push him back down. Shake my head. When he starts to stand, I push him back a third time. “Tell me to leave, Z.”

He shakes his head from the couch. “No.”

“Tell me to stop and get the fuck out of here.”

“I don’t want you to stop, Jamie.”

Zarar stands. He stuffs his hands under my blazer and shoves it off my shoulders. It clatters to the floor with the weight of all the sequins and beading.

“Yes?” He gazes down at me.

I step up onto the couch behind him and graze the back of his neck with my teeth as I work the leather jacket down over his shoulders. When I finally get the stubborn thing off he turns to look up at me with that damn jawline.

“Yes.”

I push one of the jumpsuit straps off of my shoulder. Zarar reaches up and takes the other one. My heart thunders impatiently as he pulls it down. I shove my hands under his sweater vest and yank it over his head, ruffling his mass of dark hair. He slips his hands under the fabric of this tight-ass catsuit so they’re against my skin, and slides them down over my breasts, stomach, thighs, slowly forcing it off. Heat blazes through me as he meets my eyes again.

I hop off the couch and circle around to push him down onto it one more time. He lets me do it, watching with the same hunger I feel coursing through my veins. He doesn’t realize. He’s a forest and I’m a fucking wildfire.

67. Angst and Ideas

SIRI

September 6, Sunday Morning

California

Someone is knocking on Jamie’s bedroom door at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning.

“What is it?” I grumble from my sleeping bag. My back is aching something fierce today. I moved in all sorts of different ways last night that I haven’t in a long while. I need a hot shower and some ice.

“It’s Grams. Get up, I’m taking you shopping today.”

“Now?”

“Thirty minutes, I want to hit the road and get to the outlets before they get crowded.”

“Fine, I’ll be down in ten minutes,” I whine.

“Good girl.”

I freeze on my quest to rise from the floor, an idea taking shape. Eureka!

I know how I’m going to get my dad to Vegas on Tuesday!