Crush Me

by Black, Stasia

  I shift in the overly large couch cushions so that I’m sitting up. I feel my cheeks heat and my hair tumbles around my shoulders. The hair he was running his fingers through just a while ago in the limo. The remembered intimacy makes my stomach tingle. I keep my eyes trained on my lap. “It was nothing.”

  At his disbelieving scoff, my eyes flash back to him.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” I amend.

  “Maybe so,” he says, “but you’re still going to tell me what it’s all about. I saw that woman follow you into the bathroom. Who is she?”

  I avert my eyes. I don’t want to go into my messy history. The mistakes I’ve made. Though I can’t really even consider them mistakes since they brought me Charlie. Everything in my past is what it is. As is my present. The devil’s bargain I’ve made with Gentry. Whatever the hell it is that’s brought me to this moment. I lean my head back against the overstuffed couch and stare at the ceiling.

  The only way out is through, isn’t that what they say? Charlie and I will get through this. Somehow.

  “Calliope,” Jackson’s voice snaps. He hasn’t sat down and as tall as he is, he towers over me. “I’m tired of you dodging my questions. I swear I’ll take you over my knee again if that’s what it takes to get answers.”

  My head jerks up at the threat. His face is dark but it’s what’s in his eyes that makes me capitulate. In spite of his demanding tone, his gaze is full of what looks like… concern. Like he actually cares about what’s going on with me. And when was the last time that happened? Other than Shannon, who is somewhat contractually obligated as my sister to care, who else have I had in my life to give a fuck what happens to me?

  So I tell him. At least about David. As the words flow out of me—I know it’s a cliché, but I do feel like a weight is lifted off of me. The stress compressing my chest like a tightening anvil loosens suddenly with the telling.

  “So let me get this straight,” Jackson paces in front of me. “This man took advantage of his position of power and was never punished. Even though you were forced to drop out of college a semester short of getting your degree. Then he told you to get an abortion but now suddenly he wants to take your child because his barren wife decided she wants a baby?”

  I cringe. “Yep, that’s about the sum of it.” I sit up straighter. “But they aren’t going to take Charlie from me.” The more I say it out loud, the more I can believe it, right? I’ll just ignore the wavering quality of my voice. “I don’t care how fancy their lawyers are.” I continue. And then quieter, but with no less determination: “I’ll take Charlie and go on the run if I have to.” Shit. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. What is it about this guy that makes me confess my every thought?

  Jackson’s eyes narrow and I hurry to add, “Not that it will come to that. Now that I’m working for Gentry, I can afford a great lawyer.” Then I frown. Because my position with Gentry is dependent on my ability to sway Jackson and I haven’t even broached the subject with him tonight—

  “What? What thought just made you frown right then?”

  I sigh. I’m not playing this smoothly at all. I could probably try to twist this into some kind of sympathy ploy, but I hate that kind of shit. I’d rather just put it out there straight. “I need you to agree to collaborate with Gentry. It will secure me a higher position.” I meet his clear blue eyes. “But I’m not saying I think it’s something you should just do out of some kind of—” I shrug “—pity for me.”

  Then I feel a blush rise to my cheeks again. “Not that you’d make such an important business decision based on something so dumb, but, um.” For fuck’s sake, get your goddamned foot out of your mouth, Cals. “You’d get to collaborate on what I truly believe is a quality product. What Gentry has created genuinely is the next phase in drone technol—”

  “Come work for me,” Jackson cuts me off, stare intense. “Give Gentry your resignation and come work for CubeThink.”

  I laugh out loud. “Oh,” my laughter stops abruptly. “You’re serious.”

  His stern face says it all.

  I blow out a huff of air and give him the full force of my glare. “And you want me to do the same thing for you that Gentry has me do for him? Be your personal assistant?”

  “No,” he all but barks. For the first time all night, Jackson looks like he’s about to lose his composure. His jaw isn’t just rigid now, his skin starts to look mottled like he’s barely keeping his temper in check.

  I scoot further down the couch. I really don’t know this man very well, and here I am alone with him in this big empty house. It’s true, I’ve never felt unsafe with him, but…

  He takes a deep breath as if steadying himself. “No, I would never expect sexual favors from you as part of your position. Gentry’s a snake. He begs for scraps from government contractors, cuts corners, and is all about the bottom line, not innovation.

  “CubeThink is light years ahead in terms of global application. We can use drones to solve real world problems—ones without military applications.” The disgust is clear on his face. Then his eyes meet mine. “Maybe I’m not saving lives, but that doesn’t mean I don’t do meaningful work. Planting trees, taking stable oceanography video, delivering care packages to refugees, these are the kinds of things I’m interested in. The commercial stuff is just to gain capital for the experimental projects I’m really invested in.”

  I can only stare at him for a moment. “So why did you ever agree to a meeting with me if you knew you’d never work with him again?”

  He shrugs, finally sitting down. He sits so close there’s only about a foot between us on the couch. When he crosses one leg at the ankle, his knee brushes my thigh. A little jolt rushes through me at the contact. “Keep your enemies close,” he says. “I’m not going to turn down an opportunity to look at his prototypes. And after all these years he wants something from me. Enough to give my father’s patent back, which he lorded over me for years.”

  “What was the patent for?” I ask, swallowing and trying not to let him see how his proximity affects me. “And how did Gentry get it?”

  Jackson’s jaw hardens, the way it seems to do whenever Gentry is brought up. “I told you my dad was an inventor?”

  I nod.

  “Come on,” he says, getting up. “Let’s walk.” He stands and holds out a hand to me. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. Again I feel a zing at the contact. Damn, what is up with that? It’s like I’m back in Jr. High when a cute boy I have a crush on looks at me and I get swoony at the stupidest little things. I shake my head at myself.

  Jackson leads me through the living room and then flicks the switch to illuminate a large inner courtyard covered in greenery before he opens the glass doors.

  When we step out, I’m immediately assaulted by the smell of flowers. The lights illuminate several blooming beds that run along the edge of the house. It’s not all flowers, though. There are trees and all kinds of other tall standing bushes. The lights have made the outdoor garden come to life. Old-timey lampposts dot the garden, their lights glistening off the pond in the center of the courtyard. Jackson walks toward the pond as he starts talking. It’s covered with lily pads and other flora. Everything out here is full of life. I bet there are actual fish living in there too.

  “Dad never had the capital or even the…” He looks out at the surface of the pond as if trying to find the right word, “…entrepreneurial interest to really try to make a go of any of his inventions. He loved his machines and working with computers, but he and my mom were always more interested in human projects.”

  “Like you.” I smile gently but also feel like crying as I think of Jackson as a vulnerable, misunderstood teenager and the couple that took him in and saw what no one else could. Damn it, it’s like now that I’ve accessed the emotional watershed inside, I could just burst again at every little thing.

  Jackson nods as we walk the path around the small pond. “I wasn’t their first foster kid. They were retired and
supposed to be done with fostering when one of my dad’s contacts called to talk about me. They changed their minds for me.” He swallows hard, but he doesn’t look away. “Dad gave me everything he had and while my behavior did improve…” He shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “I was far from perfect. I worry sometimes I took years off his life.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.” I look at him closer to see if he’s being serious, but I can’t tell. Surely, he can’t believe that.

  He shrugs and gives a self-deprecating smile. “We’ll never know. Either way, when he passed, he was working on a project to create an emotionally intelligent computer, or at least one that could give a realistic enough imitation. He envisioned it as a tool for at-risk teens—to try to give them someone to talk to when they feel like there’s no one else.”

  This time it’s me swallowing back emotion. “That’s amazing.”

  “That was Dad.” His lips tip up, and it’s a smile that conveys so much—sadness, pride, grief. Or maybe that’s all in his eyes. I don’t know, but I feel it. There’ve been times where Jackson seems unreadable, but like before on our way to the Gala, he’s opening himself up to me again.

  I blink and look away. We’ve stopped walking, and right beside us is a small orange tree. Small unripened oranges are bursting everywhere. We just passed some vines with a ton of strawberries a little while back, and I saw cucumbers before that. I think of Jackson picking strawberries from his own garden to eat, of him sitting out here and enjoying the beauty of his courtyard sanctuary.

  It’s overwhelming to picture him like that so I try to get back to the point of the conversation. “So how did Gentry get the patent?”

  After the words are spoken, though, I sort of wish I hadn’t because the shutters on his eyes that were so open moments ago slam closed.

  “I took Dad’s death hard. I was a sophomore in college and I…” he huffs out a heavy breath. “…went off the rails for a little while. Drinking more, sleeping around, that kind of thing.” He waves a hand. “Gentry was a freshman and I’d had a class with him. He was at one of the parties I went to and we got to talking. He flattered me, told me he’d heard all about the things I was doing in the lab. He knew the ridiculous robots website, of course.”

  Jackson’s features darken. “I was clueless back then. Couldn’t see that he was manipulating me the whole time. Trying to collect me. I was swept up by his personality. He talked so big. He was smart. We started collaborating on some projects. It was exciting. It was the first time since Dad’s passing that I’d felt alive.” He shakes his head, the sneer of disgust taking over again.

  “I saw how he treated other people.” Jackson starts walking again. “How he liked to mess with people’s heads. Sometimes he’d even draw me in to help. It all seemed harmless enough at the time. Just like pranks. Sometimes I’d tell him if something wasn’t cool, and he’d ease off for a while. But he was always pushing the boundaries of what I was comfortable with. We were doing such good work together, though, I downplayed it all. I was stupid and even shared my dad’s idea with him. We were working on developing it together.”

  He stops again and I see a familiar emotion cover his face. Familiar because I see it in the mirror on my own face regularly—shame. “Eventually, I saw him for who he truly is. But not before he dragged me down with him. I did things I’m not proud of. To get out of the bed I’d made with him, I had to sacrifice Dad’s patent. You aren’t the only one who’s made mistakes in the past, Callie. And trust me,” again those piercing dark blue eyes hit mine. “My sins are far worse than any you’ve committed.”

  He’s still got that commanding gaze on me when he says, “Come work for me. Don’t stay at Gentry Tech. That man is poison.”

  I shake my head, feeling like my brain is still full of champagne bubbles. “You say you don’t like games. I know I certainly don’t. But this feels like one, between you and Gentry. Like I’m a game piece even though I don’t even understand how.”

  Jackson shakes his head in one decisive movement. “It’s why I want you. You aren’t trying to play. You’re genuine. Do you know what a rare quality that is?” He reaches over and cups my face in the light of a lamp. “This world is so ugly, but you’re innocent.”

  I pull back. I can tell he means it as a compliment, but it doesn’t feel like one. Not to mention he’s dead fucking wrong. “Don’t patronize me,” I say. “Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I haven’t been through shit.”

  Jackson holds up his hands. “I know. I know. That’s what makes you even more extraordinary. It’s not like you’ve been shielded from life, but still you’re…” he pauses, staring at me with something akin to wonder. “You’re extraordinary.”

  My heart swells at the words even while at the same time they feel too slick, too perfect. Even though those aren’t ideas I’d usually associate with Jackson. He’s not the flatterer like Gentry. From everything I’ve seen in my short association with him, what you see is what you get.

  I shift uncomfortably on my heels and then rub my forehead. “I don’t understand. You say you’re offering something different from Gentry. So what was that in the limo?” My confusion must show on my face.

  Jackson’s eyes heat at the reference. “Any personal relationship you and I might share—” I can’t help the way my eyes pop at the word relationship, “—or not share is completely independent of the work you’ll be doing at CubeThink. One has nothing to do with the other. We’d put it in writing with the HR department. Complete disclosure. Everything will be transparent and on the up and up. I assure you, as an employer, I’m only interested in your intellectual abilities.”

  I sit down on a nearby bench that overlooks the pond, my legs suddenly feeling too much like jelly to stand on.

  He’s interested in me for my intellectual abilities?

  “Really?” I hate myself for the fragile hope that is so obvious in the single word. Jackson just nods as if it’s self-evident as he sits beside me. He sits close enough that his knee touches mine, and I hate that I notice the heat of his touch, even through our clothes. He’s just such a presence. Impossible to ignore.

  “Of course. Your professionalism, passion, and understanding of the field as well as your almost-finished degree from Stanford make you an attractive candidate for any company. You saw that tonight. The fact that I’d be grabbing you out from under Gentry’s nose is just an added bonus.” The edge of his lip turns up in a smile.

  “Oh.” Understanding finally hits. He just went on and on about how he liked me because I don’t play games, but here he is, doing exactly that. This isn’t about me or my set of skills. This is about sticking it to Gentry. God. I was stupid to think anything else even for a moment.

  I shake it off. It doesn’t matter. If I can get out from Gentry’s thumb and do honest work for good pay, it’s fine. It’s all fine.

  I stand up and straighten the front of my gown.

  “Well, if that’s all, Mr. Vale, thank you for a…” I’m about to say lovely evening, but obviously that would be a bald-faced lie. “An experience,” I finish with a laugh, ready to go.

  “Why do I have the feeling you’re willfully misunderstanding me again?” Jackson stands as well, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me toward him until we are chest to chest and forehead to forehead.

  “I want you, in every possible way the word can be understood. Forget about work for a minute. Let’s talk about the personal now. Because tonight was just the beginning. You’re going to be in my bed, Calliope. On my desk. Against my wall.”

  His voice is dark and full of promise. It sends thrilling chills zinging up and down my body. He’s not finished, either. “You’re going to be begging me to come. In fact, you’re going to get very familiar with the concept of taking what I give. I’ll spank all this refusal to ask for help out of you if it’s the last damn thing I do.”

  I open my mouth to ask him how dare he say such things to me, but the next second, his lips
close on mine.

  It’s not like earlier in the car, though. This time I’m not meek or overwhelmed. I’m not a crying mess. I bite his lip. He makes a surprised noise and yanks away.

  But I grab his face and pull him back to my lips for another long, bruising kiss. I press my entire body against him, soft against hard. He pushes his thigh between my legs and I pull up my dress so I have enough slack to thrust my core where I need him most.

  I’m still swollen from my earlier climax and within seconds I’m right there again, hovering at the edge. I all but ride his leg as I pant against his lips. God, finally. Here is a man who wants me without any weird fucking pretenses. I didn’t even know how much I needed this until now. After things being so fucked up with Gentry and God, even David. I always tried to convince myself that David’s and my relationship was based on more than sex, but I can see that now for the lie it was. Whenever I tried to talk to him about substantive things or if I was ever upset, he just said he’d make me feel better and then start touching me. I came about half of the time—it wasn’t a priority to David so it wasn’t to me either.

  But tonight. Tonight feels different from every sexual experience I’ve ever had before. The way Jackson’s attention is so focused on me. The way he held me earlier while I cried. Each attentive touch now.

  This is a wanting that feels clean and good—my breath hitches as his tongue circles my nipple—which doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel hot and dirty as fuck all the same.

  Jackson’s hands grasp my waist, lifting me up and into him as he devours me just as hungrily. After another few seconds, he hikes me up even higher, supporting me with his strong arms underneath my thighs. I immediately wrap my legs around him and he carries me back toward the house. He barely stops kissing me the entire time and I grow hotter and hotter with each step. The incredible strength of this man. The way he commands with every touch.

  When we’re inside, he slides the glass door shut and then drives my back up against it, pressing his weight into me in a way that has me squirming against him for more friction. He breaks from my lips and nips at my ear.