Deviant: Calla & Jason/Three's a Company/Final Terms: Steamy Romantic Suspense Serial Boxed Set (3 page)

4

JASON

M
y back is killing me. I’m sure sleeping in the woods would be more comfortable than the ground here in this room. There’s no way I can keep this up for too long, but for now, I won’t say anything to Calla; I don’t want her to feel guilty. She’s still asleep anyway, looking quite comfortable on that bed.

I take a moment to check her out. Like me, she stayed fully clothed, only taking off her shoes. She is lying on her tummy, wearing her jeans and T-shirt; she ignored the teddies and other soft-looking nightwear that had apparently been put out for her.

“I don’t know where that stuff’s been,” she’d said. “Besides, where would I change? There’s nowhere to hide in here.”

“I’ll turn around.”

“Thanks, but I just don’t feel comfortable. With any of this.”

Way to state the obvious, Calla!

I’m not comfortable in any way myself—except for being near her; I always feel comfortable around her. Calla, to me, feels like a really old friend, and it’s probably because she sort of is. Calla, Scott and I went to the same junior high school, and she probably had no idea of my crush back then—too busy making goo-goo eyes at Scott. She and I became really good friends in eighth grade, and then Scott swooped in in the ninth. As the new guy, he suddenly had everyone’s attention, but Calla won him in the end. The funny thing is, Scott and I had gone to the same elementary school. We recognized each other almost immediately, and formed an easy friendship from then. I don’t know how much of it on my part was to keep a close eye on him now that he had Calla’s attention, and I don’t want to think about it too much; he and I are truly good friends today. As much as I adore Calla, and would love nothing more than to have her in my arms instead, I respect him, and I want her to be happy; I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my relationship with any of them.

I turn away from Calla just as she switches positions, her eyes still closed, and I try not to think about how vulnerable her lips are to mine in that moment.

I could do it—I could get away with finally planting a kiss on her, but I won’t, and not just because her eyes could suddenly pop open and catch me.

Then I think, what the hell—what could she really do but get mad for a few seconds? Maybe longer, sure—she’d hold it against me, but I’d just pretend I was just staring at her. “Because you’re so beautiful—to me, anyway.” I’d tell her that. I’d watch her cute little face flush with embarrassment, those brown eyes framed with lush lashes look away.

She’s a doll, and Scott knows he’s lucky to have her, but for some guys, no matter how delicious their girl is, one is not enough.

Scott’s a fool.

I remember this story my dad read to me when I was younger—an Aesop fable, about this dog and his bone. The dog was crossing a bridge or something on his way home, and all excited about this juicy bone he found. But then he caught sight of his reflection in the water below the bridge and thought it was another dog with a bone. Being the greedy bastard he was, he wanted that dog’s bone too, so he opened his mouth to snatch it, and of course, his bone fell into the water and was lost.

Well, part of me hopes that anyway—that with Scott getting so greedy, word of his infidelity will get around to Calla and help push her into my arms. But I don’t really want Calla to find out—it would crush her. She’s so naive to think he couldn’t and wouldn’t cheat on her, but the physical distance between them just makes it easier. Jesse sure as hell isn’t her only worry.

I find myself coming to a decision.

I’m glad this kidnapper dude—whoever he is—gave me this opportunity. I don’t care what he’s getting out of it—I have every intention of making Calla mine, in every way, before we leave here.

I place a peck on her lips and then settle back onto my place on the ground.

5

CALLA

W
hat a night! Weird dreams and all.

I wake up expecting to see my bedroom, but I’m still in some foreign place with Jason instead of Scott near.

Poor Jason—that ground does not look comfortable at all.

The freak who brought us here probably made sure that was the case, so that we could abandon an idea like this as soon as possible and get one step closer to his aim of having us sleep together by getting us to literally sleep together.

I’m not falling for it. Sorry, Jason—you’re stuck with the short end of the stick, I’m afraid.

Most unproductive day ever.

We try and fail to find some opening in the room that could help us out, and I bet Jason thought I missed the glances he threw in my direction. Trap a guy in any situation and tell him he has to fuck his way out and he has no qualms about it.

I hadn’t necessarily gotten the impression that Jason was DTF before, but I remember feeling his affection back in junior high—I knew he liked me. I’m glad he kept it to himself because it was nice just to be friends, and he did a good job of hiding his longing for the most part. It was a bit of an ego booster for me, but after I got with Scott, my friendship with Jason only got better, and I thought he had gotten over the whole thing.

He and I didn’t necessarily stay as close since he and Scott became thick as thieves, but we had a good arrangement—I could still bitch to him about things outside of Scott. Scott probably yapped to him about me, but I always knew I wasn’t at liberty to do the same; guys tend to stick together in a way once they bond, no matter how close you were to them before.

I wonder if Jason knows more about Jesse? And would he tell me? I’ll ask him tomorrow.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore; I feel gross. Turn around,” I say, as I prepare myself to take a shower. The longest I’ve ever gone without showering is about twenty-four hours, and at minimum, that amount of time has passed.

Now, I’m more self-conscious about smelling funky than possibly giving Jason an eyeful.

“No problem,” Jason says, dutifully turning around immediately. “Just let me know when it’s okay to look up again.”

Jason is such a gentleman. Now that I think about it, he was always that way with me.

I undress, get in the shower, and enjoy the feel of the spray on my skin.

Showers are so much better the grosser you are.

I don’t know how long I keep Jason waiting, but when I finally turn the shower off, probably grinning to myself in pleasure over how clean I feel, and not thinking about the owner of that weird voice possibly watching it all, I realize I didn’t bring a towel or anything to cover myself with. Also, that I couldn’t put my dirty clothes back on, so I guess I have to put on one of those soft outfits in the small dresser.

I thought about which one I’d wear first. There was only a silk bathrobe (purple), one pair of silk pajamas (red), and some teddies and other lingerie to choose from. As for Jason, five white T-shirts and some silk boxers.

Like, seriously—the dude provided us with only nightwear. He thinks he’s so slick.

In the meantime, how am I supposed to dry off?

“You see that knob?” the weird voice suddenly says, making both Jason and me jump. I had just been studying the silver item. I can’t believe this is how I’m supposed to dry off.

“Push it,” the voice says, and like those machines in public restrooms, my body is dried by warm air.

I step past Jason and slip on the bathrobe.

“Open,” I say to him, once covered.

I watch his eyes take me in.

“It fits,” is all he says after a few seconds.

6

JASON & CALLA

JASON

“
M
y turn,” I say to Calla, after pretending the sight of her in a short bathrobe, her damp blond hair falling down her shoulders onto its shiny purple, didn’t really move me. God, I hope I pulled it off. “You can turn away or not—I don’t care.”

“Of course I’ll turn around,” she says huffily.

She’s hilarious; she sounded so indignant. Like, how dare I act as if she was so rude, she’d watch me strip to the buff? I really didn’t care—she could look all she wanted. I’m not embarrassed about any part of my body—even when I’m not blown up to my full potential. She knows what a dick is like; she knows what happens when blood suddenly engorges it. Hell, it’s accomplishment enough that I didn’t get totally hard at the sight of her in the robe. I guess I wanted her to see that she didn’t affect me like that so easily.

Anyway, I guess she turned away immediately—I don’t look to find out. I just strip, kicking my clothes next to her own shed pile and get in that shower.

In no time, I see what took her so long—the spray feels amazing. I check out the shower head to see if it’s one of those fancy massaging ones, and it looks like it is.

Plus, the smell of the soap—it’s like some kind of aromatherapy. This freak who wants us to fuck isn’t playing fair—everything about this section of the bathroom says,
Relax
…

“Are you decent yet?” she asks when I finally turn the shower off.

“No, I’m about to walk past you to grab a pair of those boxers.”

I catch a glimpse of her eyes squeezed shut as I do.

I put on the boxers, which are unbelievably comfortable, by the way—better than any I’ve ever worn.

“Decent,” I say, and I can’t help a smile of delight when I see the way Calla’s eyes get stuck on my shirtless chest.

After a few moments of taking in my torso, she blushes prettily and then looks away. I have to stop myself from laughing.

CALLA

H
oly hell, Jason’s hot. I don’t recall seeing him shirtless before, but I almost drool when I see how in shape he is. ‘In shape’ is a bit of an understatement—his body’s incredible. I knew I had to look away when I suddenly found myself wondering what it would be like to run my hands over those muscles, to feel pressed against that strong chest.

What the hell’s getting into me?

I scramble into the bed in horror, turning away from Jason and that beautiful body of his to face the wall.

I try to force myself to go to sleep in order to fight off wishing and hoping Jason would slide into the bed behind me.

Oh god, I hope I don’t give myself away—I hope he didn’t notice how much I appreciated that unexpected sight. How embarrassing.

“You owe me a massage tomorrow,” he says. “This ground is killing me.”

I don’t respond because I couldn’t think of what to say, what would be proper.

I couldn’t deny him, could I? The reason he’s getting all these aches and pains is because he selflessly gave up the bed to me, but I can’t imagine actually putting my hands on his tanned back and feeling those muscles I glimpsed.

Oh god, I’m getting wet. This is not good. I better figure out a way to make him less attractive, fast. I sure hope he wears those plain white T-shirts from now on.

“Can you throw down another pillow?” he asks.

There are only two pillows, and he only had one of them to help make his ground-bed comfier.

I throw down the second one, silently agreeing to have just the mattress, wrapped in that heavenly bedding. It’s the least I can do.