I land with an oof on the lumpy cushions. “Decided to satisfy your burning curiosity after all?”

“Curiosity?” She doesn’t join me on the sofa, which should be a big fat hint she isn’t really interested, but I’m too tired to care and to stop my mouth from spewing words.

“About the size of my dick.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt you are a big dick.” She shakes her head. She’s a quick study, this girl. “Stay here.”

I open my mouth to ask where she’s going, then openly stare at her pretty ass encased in a mini-mini jeans skirt as she leaves the room.

She returns, holding a bottle in her hands.

A bottle of brandy.

This time she does climb onto the sofa next to me, curls by my side like a cat, tucking her feet under her, and unscrews the top of the bottle. She raises it toward me, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that resonates inside me, because my heart hammers against my ribs.

“To Helen,” she whispers, and I take the brandy bottle blindly from her hand.

Saluting her, I take a long swig straight from the bottle to drown whatever it is that’s welling inside me. It feels like a tidal wave that’s gonna pull me under.

“To Helen,” I say.

Thank you for saving me when I had nobody. I won’t forget you.

***

“Do you have to work early tomorrow?” She’s curled under my arm, just like a kitten, big blue eyes staring up at me. The brandy bottle has ended up half-empty, and I’m clutching it at my other side.

“Nah. Did my two cleaning shifts this week, and I have no training tomorrow.” I let my head fall back on the backrest of the sofa. “Dammit. Zane’s pushing me to do more pieces, and I’ll fuck up, I just know it.”

“He’s your teacher. If he thinks you’re ready, then you fucking up is his problem.”

“Yeah, right. You think if I lose him a customer, and worse still, if I give his shop a bad name, he won’t chuck me out?”

She sits up and makes a grab for the bottle. I let her have her. After all, it’s hers. “No, I really don’t think he’ll chuck you out. What’s more, I don’t think he’ll let you do any real damage. He’ll be there, won’t he?”

She has a point. How can I make her understand my fear? “I always screw up. I was placed with a couple families over the years.” I roll my head away from her. “They couldn’t deal with me.”

“Bastards,” she mutters, and I blink in shock. I turn back toward her, needing to see her face, sure she’s making fun of me.

She looks dead serious and kinda pissed. Cute, too. Sexy.

Damn.

“They were good people. They took in lots of kids. I caused too much trouble.”

“You are trouble.” She puts the bottle down on the coffee table and places a hand on my cheek. Soft. Smooth. Warm. “I can’t imagine anyone giving you up, though. I wouldn’t want to.”

“You’re drunk, kitten.” I smile, turn to kiss her palm, and see her eyes darken.

She lets her hand drop on my shoulder. “If I am, you have to trust me. Drunk people always tell the truth.”

Hell, I feel like I’m cracking open for this girl.

“Why…?” I shake my head. “Why are you saying these things? Why do you keep asking me questions and… and being nice to me?”

She kneads my shoulder, and my eyes all but roll up in my head with pleasure. “Because you’re interesting.”

“I’m not interesting, Embers. I’m just fucked up.” And that’s the sad truth.

“And kind. And funny.” She leans into me, her warm breath caressing my neck, and lightning bolt desire shoots down my balls and into my dick. “And I like you a lot.”

I tighten my arm around her, sliding my fingers over the curve of her hip, and lick my dry lips. The need to kiss her is staggering, huge. Impossible to resist.

She draws back. “Come to bed, JJ. We both fit there, and Kayla won’t wake you up when she comes in at some ungodly hour.”

My brows shoot up to my hairline. She’s drunk.

I shouldn’t.

But she doesn’t even slur her words, and when she gets up, she seems perfectly steady. It occurs to me I was the one holding the bottle. She only had two to three sips this whole time, so maybe…

“You sure, kitten?”

“Yes, come. I have a spare toothbrush you can use.”

Toothbrush. Last thing on my mind.

She grins and pulls on my hand, small, sharp tugs. “It’s late. Let’s catch some sleep.”

Only problem is, I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to go to sleep with her lying by my side.

***

Her bedroom is small, done in shades of cool purple and red, from the drapes at the window to the bed cover and carpet. Books line the two shelves on the wall, and a closer inspection reveals books about art, jewelry, artisanal beads and strings, and fittingly, traveling. Escaping.

I’m thumbing through an account of a journey to Borneo—is that in Africa? Not sure—when a pendant hanging from a nail on the wall catches my eye.

A copper wire, and threaded on it is a small stone carving of a lion, no bigger than the tip of my thumb. The stone is black and shiny, and cool to the touch.

I don’t hear her until she’s right behind me and touches me on the small of my back, making me jump three feet off the floor.

“Jesus! Warn a man first. Fucking hell.” I clap a hand dramatically to my heart, and she snickers.

“Your turn in the bathroom. I left the new toothbrush there.”

I’d answer, but my tongue is currently busy being stuck to the roof of my mouth. Holy motherfucking shit. She’s changed into tiny red shorts and a loose white blouse that is so soft it molds to her tits and hips, and I’ve gone from soft to hard in a heartbeat.

I stifle a moan as I reach down to adjust myself inside my jeans, and fuck if her gaze doesn’t follow the movement, widening a little.

Yeah, see what you do to me, kitten.

“You, uh…” She tears her eyes off my crotch and gestures at the pendant. “Like it?”

“Uh, yeah.” I realize I’m still staring at her pretty tits, and it’s my turn to force my gaze away. “It’s a lion.”

“Yeah. I made it, years ago, when we left to go to Chicago.”

“You said you left because of the bullying.”

She flinches at the word, and unconsciously I reach for her. I pull her against my side, curling an arm around her slender frame, as if I can protect her from any hurt.

“Yes. My parents decided leaving would be best. And they were right. It gave me the space and peace I needed to rebuild some of my confidence and self-esteem.”

I tighten my hold on her, the thought of anything bad happening to her hurting like a jagged glass stuck in my chest. “Good.”

“That was when I started getting seriously interested in art and crafts. My dad, he comes from the East Coast, from Rhode Island. He had this stone he found on the shore when he was little and other kids picked on him. He was a scrawny thing, unlike me.”

“Good,” I tell her truthfully. “I like you the way you are. You’re perfect.”

She snorts, and I bury my nose in her hair. It smells of coconut and sunlight. “Anyway, he got the stone and convinced himself it was some sort of ancient talisman that could protect him from any violence. Its shape already roughly resembled an animal. He gave it to me, and I carved and polished it, hung it around my neck.”

“But you’re not wearing it anymore.”

“I’ve come a long way since then,” she whispers and leans her head on my chest, over my heart. I wonder if she can hear how fast it’s beating, what her closeness is producing in me. “When I realized I don’t need it anymore, I took it off.”

“It’s beautiful.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “You know what I said, about a toy I had?”

“Embers,” she says softly. “You said it was the only thing you had from your childhood.”

She remembers. The realization makes my eyes sting, and I don’t know the hell why. “Yeah. I guess the color was golden, like embers from a fire. It was a stuffed animal. A small, filthy thing without eyes or a tail.” I glance again at the pendant. “A lion.”