Feverish (Bullet #3) by Jade C. Jamison Read Free Book Online

hell of a ride, the kind of
guy she knew absolutely one-hundred-percent was completely wrong
for her. He was the anti-Bryce, a man who made her feel hot, made
her feel like a woman, and who could bring her to her knees. He was
the kind of man she’d given up in favor of a steady, calm man like
Bryce. So it didn’t matter that she could already feel some weird
buzzing magnetism between them. That spelled it all out for her—he
was trouble, trouble in the nth degree, and she had to stay
away.
    In fact, she should consider not taking the
job.
    Well, that was provided it would even be
offered to her.
    She felt her heart thudding against her
breastbone as she drew a slow breath into her lungs. She could do
this. She’d given how many presentations to large groups of her
peers and kept her cool? Yeah. So this? This was a piece of
cake.
    She swallowed and found her voice. “Hello,
Mr. Smith. I’m Emily Brinkman. It’s nice to meet you. Thank you and
Ms. Daily for taking time out of your busy schedules to meet with
me.”
    This man—Jet—smiled at her. Part of it seemed
kind and sweet, but there was something behind it, something
knowing and fiery. He simply said, “The pleasure is all ours,” but
it sounded like so much more to Emily’s ears.
    * * *
    They’d gone through Mary’s portion of (boring
but necessary) questions. The woman in front of Clay seemed more
than capable…but the other people had appeared capable as well. In
person, this young lady showed that she really was intelligent and
personable, and Clay might have been okay with that. After all,
Clay was a nice guy.
    Jet, on the other hand…Jet was a force to be
reckoned with. Most people who didn’t know the guitarist of Last
Five Seconds assumed that Jet was simply a stage name, a
cool description for the guy whose fingers seemed to fly around his
fretboard like it was child’s play. It wasn’t, though. Clay didn’t
have two personalities, but he did have two distinct sides.
Growing up, he’d always been the nice guy, the guy his mother had
groomed him to be—kind to women, children, and puppies, polite to
teachers, gentlemanly, and just all-around nice. Clay would even
wear a suit if need be. Jet, though…Jet was the darker side of
Clay. Jet was a good guy too, but he was the kind of guy girls did not want to take home to meet Daddy. He was the nasty,
down-and-dirty guy who played his guitar like today was the end of
the world, and he fucked like the world was ending too. He was the
guy who made women’s panties wet and pissed other guys off. He was
all alpha.
    And even though Clay knew his Jet persona had
started out as simply a mask, Jet had grown into more. He had first
come about to help Clay over his stage fright. The first time he’d
performed for an audience, he was a teen. Everyone in the band had
taken a large swig of Jack and that helped, but he’d taken an extra
one until he felt himself relax. It was that very first time a
girl—one of his classmates—had commented on his shredding
abilities, had said something about how fast his fingers moved, and
also mentioned the dye job all the guys had done on their hair (jet
black). Anyway, she had dubbed him Jet , and it hadn’t taken
Clay long to start associating that name with untold badassery. He
wore that name like chainmail, and performing hadn’t been a problem
since. Jet wasn’t afraid of anything. He didn’t care if he offended
anyone (or, on the other hand, impressed them) for any reason. He
played for himself. And he oozed confidence and sexuality. Jet
embodied the baser side of Clay, the part of him he’d bottled up
all his life, and naming that part of himself simply allowed the
man to let that side come out and play.
    And play he had. The problem was that Jet had
mostly taken over. He was Jet for longer and longer periods of
time, and he started to wonder what had happened to the nicer, more
caring, deeper part of himself. He was worried that he was going to
lose that