Poison Princess

to kiss you again, you call me Jack.”

I couldn’t think. I made some sound of agreement.

“Say it.”

My head tilted back, and I whispered, “Jack.”

He cupped my face with his callused palms, so that I stared directly into his eyes. There was something possessive in his expression, something masculine and . . . older that I had absolutely no idea how to decipher—all I knew was that the intent look on his face made my heart race. “You said you wanted more?”

Of his kiss? “God, yes.”

He exhaled a pent-up breath. “Bien.” Then he lifted me again, cradling me in his arms. As he climbed the pool steps, he grazed his lips along my neck, keeping me in a haze of bliss. At my ear, he rasped, “T’chauffes mon sang comme personne d’autre.” You heat my blood like no other.

I quivered with delight, only vaguely wondering where he was taking me. And maybe why he’d swooped down to collect his jeans along with his ever-present bow.

My back met cushions. Gazebo? Reclining lounge chair for two?

Ah, more kisses! He licked my earlobe, making me cry out, my back arching. Was that my zipper?

I felt weightless for a moment, then cool air breezed over my damp legs, up to my panties.

He hissed in a breath. “Ma belle fille.” My beautiful girl. He followed me down, lying half on me, half on the chair.

When he fiddled with something in his jeans pocket, I murmured, “Jack?”

He raised himself over me with one straightened arm, flashing me that wolfish grin, so sexy he robbed me of thought. “I’m goan to take care of you, bébé.” He produced a condom in a wrapper, holding it between his white teeth as he rubbed one hot palm up my torso, rolling my cami higher.

He looked roguish and wicked and oh-dear-God-did-he-have-a-condom?

For me?

“Wait!” Everything was moving too fast, spinning out of control. “Wh-what are you doing?” I hadn’t agreed to sex! I shoved against him.

He’d teed me up to be his next gaienne—without a word about me being his girlfriend. And what if that condom broke? I could have sworn it’d come from the shrimp boat medicine cabinet. Who knew how old that package was!

His brows drew together. “What’s the matter, you?”

“I’m not just going to have sex with you!” What if I got pregnant?

I was fuming all the more because I’d loved kissing him, and then he’d gone and skipped over all the bases—the ones that I had never gotten to experience—and gone straight for a home run.

“Why you acting like sex with me is a fool idea?” he demanded, his expression exasperated.

I shoved his chest again until he drew back. “Where do I even begin?” Your ancient condom pack, our lack of a defined relationship, the fact that you were going about things at light speed—even though this is my first time.

Damn it, why’d we have to stop kissing? I just needed to think, with a clearer head.

But his own anger was already seething. “You told me you wanted more.”

“Of your kiss!” I brought my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. Without him against me, I was shivering with cold.

A couple of weeks ago, I’d told myself that I would save my virginity for my boyfriend, no matter how naïve that sounded. Today, on the bike, I’d imagined what it’d be like if Jackson was mine.

There was something between us, something exciting and . . . combustible. Then I frowned. Tonight, he’d told me lots of things to let me know he was attracted to me. But not that he liked me.

Hadn’t he talked about it being slim pickings out there?

Even if there were no other girls for him to be with, I still wanted Jackson and me to get on the same page about what was going on between us. If we didn’t have some kind of understanding worked out, then sleeping together would only complicate things.

And I couldn’t let anything get in the way of reaching North Carolina.

So how to broach the subject of a relationship? “Jackson, you know that I’ve never . . . I’ve never done that before. And I was kind of looking for something more to go along with it.” Hint, hint.

Realization lit his expression. “You still think you’re too good for me. You’d let Radcliffe get first pick, but not me?”

I gasped. “Don’t you dare bring him into this!” Again, I thought of how happy-go-lucky Brandon had been, how many good times we’d shared at the beach, out on the water. Always laughing . . .

Those times with Brandon had been the last of the good times for me. Before the apocalypse, before the Arcana . . . My eyes watered.

Jackson saw my reaction. “You’re still in love with him!” He shot to his feet, then stabbed his legs into his jeans. “You were ready to lie down with that boy ’cause you thought him twice the man of me. But what the hell did he ever do besides drive a nice car or throw around a ball? I saved your life!”

I rose as well, darting for my soaked jeans, snatching them up my legs with difficulty. “Did you save me just so I’d sleep with you?”

“The idea might’ve crossed my mind! Hell, Evie, you’re probably the last girl on earth for me. Would it kill you to put out?”

“I can’t believe you just said that!” I felt like such an idiot! Believing we had a connection? The Cajunland player had merely intended to score another doe tag—and I was the only game in town. I stormed off for my hoodie, then worked it over my head.

“Believe it!” He closed in on me. “Remember, I’m the cruel and classless boy from the wrong side of the bayou. That’s all I’ll ever be to you!”

We were in each other’s faces, but I refused to back down. “When you act like this, it’s hard to see otherwise! Thank God I had the good sense not to become more involved with you.”

“Good sense? That’s one thing you’ll never be accused of having! Getting more involved with me is the smartest thing you could ever do. I’m the one who keeps you safe. Me”—he thumped his bare chest—“remember? ‘Thank you, Jack, it’s great to be alive.’ ”

“Admit it, this is the real reason you volunteered to help me—because you wanted to sleep with me!”

“Yeah, I’d pegged you for a snob, but I didn’t figure you for a miserable tease!”

“A tease? Did you believe I was a sure thing because we’re in a hell-on-earth situation? Or because every other slore you’ve been with has given it up? Tell me!”

He gave me that shrug. “A little of both.”

I wanted to strangle him!

“Why’s everything always got to be so hard with you?” He turned to punch a wooden gazebo column, rocking the entire structure. When he faced me again, his chest heaved, his scarred hand bleeding. “You’re goan to make me crazy!”

“Well, then suck it up! Just like you said, I’m the best there is. It seems like you’d be a little nicer to the last girl on earth. Maybe you should—oh, I don’t know—try to be pleasant or boyfriendlike or, or . . .”

“Court you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Maybe I have been—every time I’ve rescued your ass! And every night I’ve kept watch over you! But you just take all that for granted. Because you’re gâtée!”

“I am not spoiled!”

“Never knew a girl as spoiled as you—coddled your whole life. But that shit stops