But when Jase exhales, when the tension in his shoulders falls with the sound, I hate to say it, but my chest constricts even though I don’t want it to.

What is it about this man that’s gotten under my skin so quickly? With Paul it took weeks before I went out with him let alone slept with him. But Jase is proving to be an exception with his boyish smile and need to celebrate firsts. And then there’s the way his body felt against mine as he taught me how to play the drums. My body and mind are at war with each other, but both are shouting what if?

“That feels like heaven,” he murmurs.

Don’t do it, Hendrix. You’ve just had your heart broken by Paul. You were just betrayed and screwed over. Don’t let that justified weakness open you up to being hurt again.

This is how it started with Paul, did it not? Sweet. Kind. Apologetic after an argument. Compliant when they’re a little too brutal with their words.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to forget.

“I’m so sick of this shit, Hendrix. You want and I give but what do I get in return? Nothing. Nada. A failing bakery and a girl who fucking sucks in bed.”

Paul’s voice echoes in my head. Words I knew to be untrue at the time but that I allowed to wear me down until I started to believe them. I shove it away.

“You’re thinking too hard over there,” Jase says and reaches out to pat a hand on my leg beside him. But when the pat is done, he doesn’t move his hand.

Operation Live-A-Little.

This is temporary, is it not? My being here with Jase? The man stated he wanted me and here I am debating morals when I need to just say fuck it and do exactly what Jase suggested—live a little.

“Jase?”

He hums, his breath warm against my bare thigh.

“What did you mean when you said you couldn’t? With me?”

He stills.

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face before shifting onto his side and tilting his head up to meet my gaze.

“I promised my brother,” he murmurs. “That we wouldn’t cross the line.” He swallows. “Or rather, that I wouldn’t.”

My chest tightens. “Why?”

His lips press together, like he’s debating telling me the truth. Finally, he exhales. “Because I have a way of ghosting people once I do. You know, the typical guy thing. Chase until you get what you want, get it, then push them away.”

I hum, tracing a slow pattern against his scalp.