by Crowe, Liz
She gave in, her hands buried in his hair as she pulled his lips harder onto hers. He slammed the door shut with his foot behind them, more or less in the faces of Val and Jennifer who had just made it to the top of the steps.
Without ceremony, he flung her onto the bed, climbed up between her legs, shoving her tank top up and snapping the front of her casual bra easily between his fingers, never missing a beat. He took one nipple in his mouth, then the other, tugging, sucking, pulling at them until she arched up, barely able to contain her need to have him near her, inside her, all over her.
She gasped, surprised, at her body’s reaction. Of their own accord, her hands reached for him—his hair, his neck, his shoulders, his back, his ass, unable to get enough.
She sighed with pleasure when he grabbed her wrists and held them down on the bed beside her head.
“Sara,” he asked, his voice low. “Please. Just tell me what you want from me.”
She stared at him, unsure what to say. His eyes were dark with desire, his teeth clenched as though trying to hold something back, willing her to say something, anything that would satisfy him. She tugged her wrists, wriggled out from under him, and sat on the edge of the bed so she didn’t have to face him.
“I want you, Jack,” she whisper-yelled at him. “All of you. I’ve figured out that I can’t have what I want. So, I’m moving on. As are you, best I can tell.”
“Why the fuck did you throw that ring back at me?” he demanded as if he hadn’t heard, or was ignoring her words on purpose.
She kept her gaze trained down at the floor, gnawing at her already sore lower lip.
“Because, we just… we can’t. We’ll kill each other. It won’t work,” she insisted. “This is all we know how to do. Neither of us can handle anything more.” She’d give anything to take back that stupid moment, to let him explain the condoms, but she couldn’t. He would hurt her eventually. She knew it.
Don’t live our mother’s life. He’ll never change.
But then again, how will ever know, how can you possibly find anyone as perfect as he is if you don’t try?
She attempted to close her mind to the words, but they spilled through her like water over a cliff, uncontrollable and wild.
He got up and walked around so he stood in front of her.
“So this is it, huh? For real?”
She nodded and let a single tear drop onto her bare thigh. “Yeah, Jack. It is.”
He stayed still for a solid minute before he knelt down and lifted her chin so she had to meet his gaze. She sucked in a breath at the look on his face. It was one she’d never seen before—searching, almost questioning… dare she say—needy?
“Sara, I… we…” He trailed off. “I will never stop loving you. You should know that.”
She put her shaking hand alongside his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I know you do. And I…well, I love you too but I have to stop this. It’s too destructive. For both of us. We don’t know how to, I don’t know, be adults or something. We just turn into horny teenagers and never really communicate properly.” She ran the pad of her thumb across his lips. “Love is one thing. Trust is something else entirely. And we…we don’t have that. You know it. I know it. So we should … stop this…now before we end up married and miserable.”
“I don’t want to admit you’re right. But you could be.” He sighed. “Is this us, being mature right now?” His smile almost ripped her two, mainly because she was already missing his smile. And his voice, his touch, his laugh, the way he’d pour her a glass of her favorite red wine and hand it her with a soft kiss to her hair.
Yeah, pretty much everything about him that she loved. All of which could be wiped out with one shitty comment or by some pseudo-ex-girlfriend showing up either physically or via text. She simply couldn’t take that possibility. No matter how much she wanted to be with him.
Jesus, she was losing her mind. She should beg him to give the ring back. Jump straight back into life as the Future Mrs. Gordon. What was her ever-loving problem?
“Can I ask you one thing?” His voice was low and rough, full of emotion. She tried to shut herself off from it, without much success. He cupped her elbow and pulled her to her feet. Their bodies brushed close, sending a bolt of lust from her head to her toes. Part and parcel of the crazy months she’d spent with him without a doubt. She closed her eyes. “Can I have…one last kiss?”
Nodding, since she didn’t trust her voice, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, went up on her tiptoes, and prepared herself to beg him to take her back.
“Jack? Jack? Where are you? They’re about to hand out the prizes.”
He took two big steps back from her, leaving her hanging in mid-air, begging words on her lips, her heart whamming in her chest. He glanced at the door.
“Jaaaaack?” She could hear Heather getting closer, coming up the stairs.
“Yeah, Jack, you scurry back to your date, ’K?” She hissed at him as she brushed past him, thankful for Heather’s interruption.
“Uh, hang on a minute, babe,” he yelled out, not taking his eyes off of Sara’s. “I’ll be right out. Must have had a bad bite of guac or something.” He reached for her, wrapped his fingers around her biceps.
Sara yanked herself out of his grip.
Self-preservation. That’s all she was doing.
“What do you really want from me, Sara? Can you at least answer that?”
She took a deep breath. “You think you can buy your way into a relationship, but you’ve already proven to me that you aren’t capable of anything beyond the surface. That damn show-offy proposal? That wasn’t for me. It was for everyone else to see and admire you. So please.” She paused to try and calm her racing pulse. “Don’t ask me questions you can’t answer yourself.” She gritted her teeth. “Trust, Jack. That’s all I required. The ability to trust you. But you can’t give me that, can you?”
He let his arms hang at his sides, and watched her for a brief moment, then seemed to mentally shrug his shoulders, and reach back into himself for the good old Jack they all knew. “You think you know everything about me. But you don’t. Don’t flatter yourself.” His gaze took a hard edge and her heart broke yet again.
“I’ll tell you what, how about you never touch me again, how about that?” She felt her voice rising in spite of her extreme embarrassment at the knowledge that they had been conspicuously absent from the party for the better part of thirty minutes now, regardless that she’d managed to not let him between her legs this time.
Points to Sara.
She set her jaw, and channeled her new-found aggressiveness, determined to purge this guy from her system once and for all. She glared at him, daring him—wanting him—to deny this. To reach out, take her in his arms, kiss her, and walk out of this room with her.
He hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then ran his tongue over his lips.
“Okay, Sara, it was good for a few laughs—I got to show you a bit of fun, and I’ll admit I had some, too, but…” He shrugged his shoulders and turned away from her. “Time for Jack to pick on someone his own size, huh?” He indicated the door and the nearly six-foot sultry woman waiting for him. “To be clear,” he said, holding up a finger. “We are not just on a break. We are officially no longer together. Making sure, so I don’t get accused of being a cheater or anything, you know. Tarnish my stellar rep and all that.”
Fury pounded in Sara’s ears. “You are the most arrogant dickhead to walk the planet, but I’m sure this isn’t news to you.”
Oh damn. She was yelling. But didn’t give two shits who heard her.
“We are done. Finished. Don’t ever doubt it. Go on. Fuck whoever you please. You no longer have to answer to me.” She turned fast then glanced back. But he’d resumed his bemused stare, one eyebrow raised at her behavior, as she flung the door open, shoved past their small audience, including Heather who waited patiently—stupidly, Sara thought—on the landing.
Sh
e was vaguely aware of Craig standing by Val at the foot of the steps but tears blurred her vision and she was determined to get the hell away before she embarrassed herself any further.
Craig followed Sara out, determined not to give into the intense and overwhelming desire to flatten Jack Gordon with one punch. He needed to focus on her. Then he’d worry about how he’d handle that asshole. Of course, in actuality, Jack being himself would continue to work in Craig’s favor.
“Sara, wait!”
She held up a hand and kept making her way through cars until she reached hers. He followed, not sure exactly what he’d say. There was no doubt that she did something to him, something he wasn’t ready to identify, but he considered himself her friend and one who wanted to be there for her at that moment.
By the time he caught up to her, she’d spent a few seconds trying to wrench open her door, but the tears streaming down her face made that impossible. He set aside fury at the man who had done this to her and touched her shoulder.
“Don’t.” She shrugged. “I mean, I just—oh shit.” She put her forehead against the car door. Craig turned her around, pulled her into his arms. She sobbed, clutched at his shirt.
“Shh. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You are such a great guy and he’s… he’s a…”
“Don’t make me say it.”
She laughed and tilted her damp face up to his. Craig couldn’t resist the urge to brush her tears away but swallowed hard against the need to kiss her. Not now. But soon, he promised himself. Soon. “Can I drive you home?” She leaned into his chest again and nodded.
By the time they got to her place, the tears had stopped. “Want to come in?” She sniffled. “I mean, you know, just to talk?”
He hopped out and opened her door. “Let’s just sit here a minute.” He guided her down beside him on the step. There was no way he was going in there. He knew himself well enough to know that he’d be unable to keep from taking advantage of her vulnerable state. That wasn’t what she needed.
She went inside and grabbed them a couple of beers. They sat in comfortable silence, sipping. When she leaned her head on his shoulder, he shifted and put an arm around her. The need to seek Gordon out and pummel him, and the desire to carry Sara inside and make love to her, warred in him so violently, he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something idiotic.
She stood and stretched. He tried very, very hard not to stare at the muscles in her thighs and imagine her body under his, her lips, her hair in his hands. He stood and pulled her close, kissed the top of her head and started down the sidewalk toward his truck.
“Wait. I mean, can’t you stay?”
“No. You get some rest. You know where to find me.”
He waved, climbed into his truck and tried not to groan aloud at how hard it was to leave. This was going to be tough. But he was determined to prove to her that he was the better man by not rushing her, which might kill him if one could die from blue balls. He smiled at the text from her.
Thanks. U R a good friend.
He waited to text her back until he had parked and was in the elevator, headed up to the penthouse pool to swim, until the need in his belly abated. I know.
Chapter Six
Blake watched as Rob fired yet another kitchen manager. The woman was not taking it well, but Rob wasn’t intimidated. The tall blonde man squared his shoulders and escorted her to the door and opened it and she stomped out. Blake sighed, and turned back into the small brewery that comprised the middle two thousand square feet of the brewpub they’d opened and operated successfully for three years, in spite of the annoyingly constant turnover of staff. This latest departure meant one thing to him: Rob would be spending more time here than at home.
He did a quick check of pH levels in the water where he was about to concoct a fresh batch of their very popular India Pale Ale. The previous day’s batch was fermenting nicely, if the bubbly bucket of yeast next to the tall stainless steel vessel was any indication. Blake pulled his phone out of his pocket and noted a couple of texts, one from Suzanne Baxter, former boss and lover, and one from Sara. He leaned back against the copper brew kettle and read Suzanne’s missive about her friend Jack. Frowning, he deleted it, sighed, and then hit the call button. The sound of her voice made him smile.
“Hey,” she sounded a little breathless. He knew how hard she worked to make her brewery a success. Her single-minded focus had cost the two of them a relationship, but in hindsight, that was probably for the best. He gazed out over the expanse of the empty restaurant at Rob.
“Hey yourself. What’s up?”
“I’m on a mission of mercy.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Save your breath. Jack’s history.”
“How did you know I was gonna talk about him?”
“Because, my dear, I know you better than you know yourself.”
Blake let the silence stretch out longer than was necessary. He jumped when Rob put a hand on his shoulder and raised his eyebrows at the phone. “Sorry, but you know what I mean.”
“Fine. But listen, seriously, he—” Blake cut her off. Remembering his promise to Rob about not meddling in Sara’s life, he clenched his eyes shut as the familiar Jack Gordon-induced anger roiled in his gut at her words.
“He comes near my sister again, I will kill him.” Rob frowned at him. Blake turned away, intent and unwilling to let his lover’s opinion of the man he’d gladly cut off at the knees, sway him.
“Please, Blake, we aren’t in high school here. Sara’s a grown woman.”
“Well, okay, maybe I won’t kill him. Castration could be arranged. He hurt her, Suze, bad. I’m not gonna let that happen again.”
“Don’t coddle her, Blake. It’s not good for either of you. And besides, I happen to know that he’s hurting too.”
“I’m not coddling. I’m keeping her safe from predators. And I don’t believe for one second that he’s capable of being hurt. Not by Sara.”
Rob snorted and walked away from him. Blake felt his scalp tingle at the sight of the blonde Adonis he’d fallen so hard for, right after the woman on the other end of the phone had dumped him. He closed his eyes.
“Enough about Sara. How are you? How’s the new bottling line? The new distributor? I saw the lager at Meijer. Nice placement.”
She laughed, making him shiver with memory. “Nice diversion, Thornton. Well played.” She sighed and he could picture her messing with the ends of her hair, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. He swallowed hard.
Damn, they had been good together. But he was better off, and much happier with Rob.
“Yeah, I’m good at a lot of stuff. So tell Gordon you tried and failed as his ambassador. Leave it alone.”
“Oh, okay. Can’t blame a girl for trying?”
“No, but I can blame you for your choice in friends.”
“Last time I checked, Rob was Jack’s friend, too.” Her voice was sharp. “You’re too overprotective for your own good, you know. You should leave it alone.”
“You gave up the opportunity to have much to say about what I do a few years ago.” He bit down on the urge to be crueler. He wanted to be her friend, really. But hearing her voice still seared his nerve endings and was turning him into an asshole.
“Whatever. Sorry to bother you.”
“Wait, Suze, I’m sorry.”
“No, you made your point. Sorry to meddle.”
“But—” he spoke into the dead air. She had hung up. He slumped against the glass wall, a hand over his eyes.
“Relax.” Rob’s voice was in his ear, his hand on the back of Blake’s neck. He looked up into the other man’s deep brown eyes. This was whom he loved now. The bitter irony that his own sister had been engaged to Jack Gordon, one of Suzanne’s and Rob’s oldest friends, wasn’t lost on him. The extreme relief that she’d come to her senses and cut the guy loose had been intense at first. It had evolved into something that allowed him to sleep at night. Screw Suzanne and Jack.
He pulled Rob to him, his hand grazing the other man’s rough jaw.
“I know something that will help me do just that.” he whispered.
“Mmm, tempting indeed,” Rob grabbed his ass before letting him go with a nip to his lower lip. “But you and I have too much work to do, lover. Besides, you’d just be fucking me to get over hearing her voice again. I told you once before I don’t play that way.” Rob stepped back and Blake bit down on the retort and gripped the edge of the window as Rob turned and walked away from him, whistling, hands in pockets.
Shit.
The man was too astute for his own good. He closed his eyes, willed his body calm, and turned back to the long day of brewing and trying to forget the way the sound of Suzanne’s voice made him react every single damn time still.
Hoping he hadn’t spoiled the lovely reunion he’d been sharing with Rob for the past couple of weeks, he forced himself to focus on the many tasks at hand. But, by the time they headed home, the tense silence had taken on a life of its own and Blake knew he’d fucked it up yet again.
* * *
Sara stared at her phone’s screen, trying to decide if it was worth her time to return the three calls from a needy seller, or to ignore her and answer Craig’s text. It had been nearly three weeks since the disaster at The Farm. He’d been easy-going, flirty but in a harmless way, always at work, never coming on too strong. She found herself looking forward to seeing him, hearing his laugh and knowing his eyes were always on her. Did her ego good, after the beating it had taken at Jack’s hands.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Jack.
Dear God, would she never be free of him?
He had effectively ignored her. Something she recalled from the early days of their so-called relationship when he’s swoop in, seduce her, then ignore her for weeks on end. Rat bastard.
She sighed. Craig. That’s what she needed. His lovely, soothing presence, which didn’t compel her to necessarily strip off her clothes and fuck him every time she saw him, but did make her happy on a different level.
