Escape In You
Rachel Schurig
Publication date: October 15th 2013
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult
Synopsis:
Jet Taylor is the quintessential bad boy. A womanizer. A fighter. Dangerous. The type of guy most girls do their best to avoid. But Zoe Janes is no saint herself.
In fact, she sees in Jet the perfect opportunity to distract herself from her responsibilities at home and the mistakes that keep her trapped there. He’s gorgeous, likes to party, and is clearly only interested in having fun—just like Zoe. But the more time they spend together the harder it is to stick to her “fun only” mantra.
Jet is getting under her skin, making her believe things could actually be different. She knows they’re both trapped by the sins of their past but Jet is starting to make her think freedom might actually be possible. And that makes him the most dangerous boy of all.
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Escape
In You Excerpt
The guy in black has joined me on
the couch and is almost touching me, he’s sitting so close. The
tangle of tattoos on his arms distracts me for a moment before I get
my first good look at his face.
I draw in a sharp breath—I
can’t help it. I’m staring at the most beautiful man I have ever
seen. He has longish brown hair liberally sprinkled with natural gold
highlights, and it’s all in a pleasing, tousled mess. I wonder what
it would feel like to run my fingers through that hair, to mess it up
even further. It looks soft. He has strikingly dark brown eyes framed
with the thickest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a guy. His eyes seem
to flash with some kind of dark amusement, and my heart beats faster.
A muscle pulses in his jaw when he swallows—God, I love a guy with
a strong jawline—and I want to place my lips there, right at that
pulse, and kiss him.
“You okay, Zoe?” he asks, and
there’s that amusement in his eyes again.
“How’d you know my name?” I
ask, and I’m pleased that my voice is steady. There’s no sense in
letting him know just how much I like what I see—though I’m
afraid he somehow knows exactly what I’ve been thinking. Something
in the way he’s looking at me makes me blush. And I never blush.
“I make it a point to find out
information that might be of interest to me.”
His voice is low and raspy and
touches something deep within my core, but I force out a laugh.
“Does that kind of line usually
work for you?”
He shrugs, grinning. “To be
honest, yeah. It does.”
My laugh is sincere this time.
“Well, at least you are honest.”
He leans back into the couch,
stretching his arm across the back of the cushion so that it just
grazes my shoulder. I shiver a little and hope he doesn’t notice. A
quick glance around tells me we shouldn’t be interrupted. Hunter
appears to have moved off while I was distracted by the sex god—I’m
pretty sure I can make out his voice across the room, urging someone
else to come down and feel the carpet. Ellie has dozed off. I’m not
surprised—that’s her usual reaction to pot and one of the reasons
I don’t often join in when she partakes. I don’t come to parties
to sleep.
I smile at the sex god. Flirting
with hot guys, on the other hand, is one of the best reasons to come
to a party.
“I’m at a bit of a
disadvantage here.” I inch my knee closer to his.
“How so?”
“You know my name, and I don’t
know yours.”
He holds my gaze for a minute,
and my heart thumps. “Maybe I’d rather be a man of mystery.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Seriously,
dude. You have to stop with the lines. It’s just not doing it for
me.”
He leans in, and his face is
inches from mine. “What would do it for you?”
“An actual conversation.” I
refuse to fall under his spell. But there’s something dangerous
about this guy, something that makes me want to abandon sense and
close the gap that separates us.
He watches my face for a minute
before his eyebrows come together in an expression I can’t quite
read. “I don’t do so good with conversations.”
“Why’s that?”
He surprises me by pausing before
he answers, as if he’s actually thinking about it. “I just think
it’s easier not to talk, for the most part. People usually just
tell you what you want to hear anyway. What’s the point?”
God, wasn’t that the truth.
“Yeah,” I say. “I get that.”
We’re both quiet for a minute,
but it isn’t necessarily an uncomfortable silence. It feels
natural, easy, to just sit here with him while the party carries on
around us.
“I know what you’re
thinking,” he says.
“I doubt that.” How could he
know that I’m considering dropping the whole talking thing and just
making out with him for a while? No way anything more serious is
going to happen. I don’t date, not anymore—it’s too
complicated. And I have a feeling a guy like this isn’t
really the dating type—just like me.
Making out is simple enough
though. And not a bad way to spend a few hazy, vodka-fueled hours at
a party. Particularly when the guy looks as good as this one does. I
lean in a little, allowing the side of my breast to brush up against
his arm. “Maybe you were right,” I murmur and bat my eyes at him.
“Maybe it is easier not to talk.”
He looks down at me, his lips
parting slightly. I’m close enough now that I could easily reach up
and trail my tongue across those lips or along that impressive
jawline. But his next words stop me cold.
“I don’t know, Zoe. You’ve
intrigued me with this conversation idea. I’m thinking it might do
it for me too.”
I purse my lips, surprised. I was
sure he’d jump at the chance to avoid talking.
“So.” He leans back again and
gives me a lazy smile. “What should we talk about?”
“We could start with your
name.” I’m debating whether I should just get up and leave him
here. My friend Everett is across the room, talking to a guy I know a
little through Hunter. Surely they’d be more appropriate company.
“Do you want my real name, or
my fake name?” He winks.
I narrow my eyes, not really in
the mood for cute. “What do you think?”
“Well, you see, the thing is
that most people don’t call me by my real name. In fact, most
people don’t even know my real name. So if I give you that, it’s
kind of saying something, you know? It takes us past the point of
general acquaintances at a party. It makes us something more.” He
waggles his eyebrows at me.
I’m not sure whether I’m
annoyed or intrigued by this. I thought I wanted to flirt with him,
but this feels too much like a game. Or your impression of him is
just colored because now you know he probably has money.
“Let’s start with your fake
name,” I say, deciding to play along. “Maybe we can work up to
your real name. I’m not sure I’m ready for that level of
commitment just yet.”
He nods. “Fair enough. Everyone
calls me Jet.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Jet
is really my nickname.”
“Why?”
He furrows his brow. “You know,
it’s been so long I’m not really sure. Everyone has called me Jet
ever since like, Little League. Something to do with my base running
skills. Oh, and the fact that my initials are J.E.T.” At my
skeptical look he cocks his head. “What? You don’t like it?”
“Not particularly.”
He throws his head back and
laughs. “Oh, Zoe, this is fun.”
“What is?” I ask, feeling
defensive.
“Talking to a girl who has no
desire to please me. It’s refreshing.”
“You’re pretty damn full of
yourself.”
He points at me. “See? That’s
exactly what I mean. You couldn’t give a shit about what I think,
could you?”
“I don’t see why I would.”
His face darkens. “I don’t
see why you would either. Why anyone would.” He inhales sharply,
sounding almost pained. “Yet, somehow, they do. Or, at least, the
ladies do.”
I don’t like that look. It
makes me feel sad, which is just ridiculous, since I barely know him
and what I do know I’m not even sure I like. I try to lighten the
mood by shoving his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, I’m so sure you’re
complaining about all the women who are just dying to please you.”
He shoots me that same amused
grin. “Are you volunteering?”
“Not even remotely, buddy.”
“It’s Jet,” he says.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry,
but I refuse to call you that.”
“Well, now we’re at an
impasse. You refuse to call me by my nickname yet you’re not ready
for my real name either. The only other option is for you to make up
your own name for me. Either way, it implies a certain level of
intimacy, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know you well enough
to give you a nickname.” I think for a moment. “Unless you like
the sound of Cocky Ass.”
He pretends to think about that.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, then. I guess we are at
an impasse.” I’m actually starting to enjoy myself. He may be
cocky, but it’s been ages since I’ve actually flirted with a guy
like this. When I hook up at parties the talking phase doesn’t
usually last this long.
“I think I have a solution,”
he says, holding up a finger in triumph. “Taylor!”
“Why would I call you Taylor?”
“Because it’s my last name.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Okay.
Taylor it is.”
He holds out his hand to shake
mine. His skin is warm against my palm, his grip firm. I have a
sudden urge to feel his hand curled around the back of my neck, and I
release his fingers before my palm starts to sweat.
“So, Zoe,” Taylor says, his
gaze flicking down to my legs before meeting my eyes once more.
“What’s your story?”
“My story?”
He nods. “Yeah. What do you do?
Who do you know? What do you like? Your story.”
If only my story really were that
simple—a collection of answers to meaningless questions. I look
down at my hands. A weight fills my stomach as I consider how I
would answer if I could be honest. If I could actually tell him—or
anyone—my real story.
“You okay?”
I look up and realize he’s
watching my face closely. I force a smile and nod. “Maybe too
much vodka.” I hold up the bottle, glad for the excuse. From the
look on his face I’m not sure he bought it, so I hurry to answer
his original question. “I’m a student at MCC.” I peek at him
from the corner of my eye for any reaction to the name of the local
community college. If he grew up in this neighborhood I’ll bet he’s
one of the kids who goes to an actual university.
When he only nods, I go on. “I’m
not working right now, so I’m taking classes all summer.” I leave
out the reason for my unemployment. I can imagine how he’d react to
that—talk about putting a damper on our flirting.
“What are you studying at MCC?”
More details I don’t want to
get into. “This was my first year. I haven’t really decided on a
major yet.”
He looks concerned. “How old
are you?”
“Twenty-one.” I blush again.
I’m too exposed to this guy. I don’t want him asking questions
about why I waited so long to enroll in classes. But his face
relaxes.
“Good. When you said it was
your first year I was worried you were a teenager for a minute
there.”
“Why would it matter if I was a
teenager?” I ask, a flirtatious note in my voice. He only grins at
me, a purely wicked grin, and my face grows hotter.
“What about you?” I ask,
embarrassed by my reaction. “What’s your story?”
“I work at the body shop in
town. We mostly do repairs, but sometimes we get some refurbs to do,
which is what I really prefer.”
That isn’t the answer I
expected. “School?”
He shakes his head. “Never
really saw the point.”
“So you live here all year?”
It doesn’t make sense. Why hadn’t I ever come across him if he
wasn’t away at school all year?
“All four miserable seasons.”
“They’re not all miserable.
Spring is nice.”
“Whatever. Spring lasts about
two minutes. It goes from cold as hell to hot as balls around here.”
I have to laugh at that. “I was
just thinking that tonight. That spring went way too fast.” I
pause. “I wasn’t ready for summer.”
“Me either,” he says, his
voice soft. I look over at him. He’s staring at the ground. He
looks about a million miles away. I wonder what it is about summer
that he doesn’t like, but I don’t press. I know what it feels
like to dread something as inevitable as the change of season.
“Can I have a sip of that?”
Taylor points at the bottle in my hand. I’d almost forgotten it was
there. I take a swig before passing it to him, wiping my mouth on the
back of my arm as the warmth fills my belly.
“Impressive,” Taylor says,
nodding at me as he takes the bottle and follows suit. “You didn’t
even grimace.”
I shrug. “I like vodka.”
“Okay, so I know you like vodka
and picking fights with girls at parties. What else makes you tick?”
“I didn’t pick that fight!”
I say, my voice a little too loud. “That bitch got mouthy with
Ellie.”
“And that’s a mistake, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“You’re not like most of the
girls I know,” he says and nods down at Ellie to include her in his
assessment.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, most girls don’t chug
vodka straight from the bottle. And most girls don’t actually get
in fights at kegs. When a girl says she’s going to kick someone’s
ass, I can pretty much always assume she’s full of shit.”
“Ellie and I don’t mess
around with stuff like that. We’ve had to stand up for ourselves
way too often for it to be a joke. When Ellie threatens someone, she
means it.”
“You too?”
I nod. “Though I don’t feel
the need to threaten quite as often as she does.” I meet his eyes.
“But when I say something, I mean it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
His voice is a soft rasp that makes the hair on the backs of my arms
stand up. I stare at his lips, wishing I could kiss him. Why had I
been so stupid and told him I prefer conversation to cheesy lines? I
could be making out with this hottie right now if I had kept my mouth
shut and laughed at his little jokes like any other girl.
“How long have you guys known
each other?” he asks.
It takes me a second to come back
to the conversation. “Ellie? We’ve been tight for a few years
now. I guess we started hanging out when we were seventeen.”
I manage to keep my voice casual, as if that year, and the
circumstances surrounding our becoming friends, hadn’t been any big
deal. “What about you? You said you grew up with Preston? Are you
guys tight?”
He lifts one shoulder. “Not
particularly. I mean, I guess we were. But we don’t have a lot in
common anymore.”
That’s a little cryptic. Does
that mean he doesn’t live in one of these huge mansions on this
side of town? Or is it simply that he stayed home and got a job while
Preston went off to school?
“He’s not a bad guy, though,”
Taylor says. “His parents travel a lot, so he throws a ton of
parties in the summer.”
“Maybe I’ll see you at
another one of them.”
He’s quiet for a moment as he
holds my gaze. “I hope I see you regardless.”
His tone makes my stomach flip
and all in a rush I’m frightened. Am I getting in too far here?
Flirting at a party is one thing, making plans to see each other
after tonight is another. To my great relief, Ellie chooses that
moment to wake up fully.
She moans as she sits up. “Ugh,
I have a headache. Zoe, you weren’t supposed to let me mix beer and
pot. You know this.”
“I warned you,” I say. “You
told me to fuck off.”
She laughs weakly, rubbing her
head. “That does sound like something I’d say.” She pulls her
phone from her pocket and starts to type. “Let’s find Hunter. I’m
in need of sustenance. I want pancakes.”
“Mmm, pancakes,” Hunter says,
as he walks up behind her. “I’m in.”
Ellie holds up her phone. “I
was just texting you.”
He taps his forehead. “I could
sense that my presence was desired.”
I look over at Taylor. “I guess
we’re leaving.” Somehow I’m both disappointed and relieved.
“I guess so.”
I know it’s better to leave
before I start getting any weird ideas about seeing him again, but I
still feel a sense of letdown. I’ll never get to find out what it’s
like to kiss that gorgeous mouth. To trail my tongue across that jaw…
As I start to stand, Taylor grabs
my hand. “I’ll be seeing you, Zoe. That’s a promise.”
I look down at him, not knowing
what to say. I should discourage him, tell him I’m not interested.
But I just can’t do it. “We’ll see,” I murmur, then turn to
help hoist Ellie into a standing position.
“Let’s find Everett,”
Hunter says. “He’s the DD tonight. Why’s it so dark down here?”
He looks around the room. “Hey, Everett!” he shouts. “I want
pancakes!”
Everett’s laugh sounds from
across the room, and we head off in that direction. I refuse to turn
around to take a last look at Taylor. Even though we aren’t heading
home yet, leaving the party takes me one step closer to my real life.
And
there is no place for anything as beautiful as Jet Taylor in my real
life.
AUTHOR BIO:
Rachel Schurig lives in the metro Detroit area with her dog, Lucy. She loves to watch reality TV and she reads as many books as she can get her hands on. In her spare time, Rachel decorates cakes. Her THREE GIRLS series is available now from Amazon!
Author Links:
Website: http://rachelschurig.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/
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