Ocean (Damage Control Book 5) by Jo Raven Page A

struggling to keep quiet. I want her to be loud, to be unable to hold back.
    But we’re not alone in my apartment.
    Next time, I vow. If there is a next time. We’ll be alone. And I’ll make her scream and beg for more. I’ll spoil her for any other lover. I’ll make her come again and again until she can’t move, can’t walk.
    If only I could keep her. If only she would stay.
    But when she finds out more about me, about who I am and where I’m coming from, she’ll hate me just like my family does.
    I release her sweet nipple from my mouth and lift up to kiss her. She wraps one leg around my hip, and I fuck her faster, harder with my fingers as I suck on her tongue.
    She cries out, the sound lost in the kiss, as she tightens like a vise. She’s coming, rippling and milking my fingers.
    Fuck, yeah. Like that, babe. Goddamn beautiful.
    My dick twitches and jerks, and I almost get off just from watching her, feeling her, hearing her.
    Need to be inside her. Need my dick to be where my fingers are, in that heat and snugness. My heart is racing, my pulse pounding in my ears. My whole body is tight with need.
    But then she’s shoving at my shoulders, frantic, and I ease out of her, pull my hand out of her panties.
    “Kay?” I reach down and push on my aching dick. “What—?”
    “Listen.”
    All I want is to find relief. I haven’t come in what feels like ages, and having her here, with her scent on my fingers, her moans still ringing in my ears, I’m two seconds away from shooting my load.
    But I listen, and finally a sound filters through the rush of blood in my head, and I wrench the door open.
    A strangled shout. And another.
    Jason.
    Fuck.
    ***
    “Just a nightmare,” I tell Kayla when she appears beside the sofa, her slender brows drawn together.
    I know better, of course. Nightmares are a reflection of real life, of the pain and fear of the past, or the present. Mine are never just dreams—they are a blend of memories and stress and panic.
    Jason is rubbing his face with both hands. “Sorry about this, guys. I’m okay.”
    But he’s not. He’s trying to hide it, but his cheeks are wet. He’s not rubbing away sleep—he’s rubbing off tears.
    Fuck this. “I’m gonna call Jesse. I’ll—”
    “Don’t.” He shoots up from the sofa and grabs my arm in a bone-grinding grip. His eyes are wide, red-rimmed and too bright. “Please. I’ll be fine. I’ll leave tomorrow. Please.”
    Damn. Kayla is right. He does look very young with his dark eyes and thin face. There’s something haunted in his gaze that makes me want to calm him down and tell him he’ll be safe.
    My head is fucked. Nobody’s ever safe. And I can’t save everyone. Anyone. Could never even save myself.
    “I just want to give him a heads-up,” I explain. “You’re running a fever. He’s your friend. And I’ll be away this weekend with nobody to look after you.”
    “It’s nothing,” he insists. He blinks, and for a moment it’s my brother Raine in front of me, pleading with his dark gaze.
    Don’t tell Dad, Shun. I’ll be fine. Don’t tell them.
    Don’t let them take me away from you. Promise you won’t.
    I promised him. Big fat good it did me. Or him.
    “Why don’t you want him to call Jesse?” Kayla asks.
    Jason releases my arm and falls back on the pillow. He shivers, and I pull the blanket over him. “He’ll want me to stay with him and Amber. Can’t fucking do that to him.” His eyes are closing, his lids heavy. “I’m fine.”
    There’s a weight on my chest that won’t lift.
    “I won’t call Jesse,” I say, and I don’t even know if Jason heard me. His eyes flicker under his pale lids.
    “How about we make that soup?” Kayla whispers and puts her hand in mine. “Come on, let’s wash up.”
    This time she’s the one who drags me off to the bathroom to wash our hands, and as her thumb traces over the lines in my palm, I can’t find it in me to care what she can read in them about me, or my