Jaden

by Shayne Ford

  It’s hard to miss the undertone.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do we have a deal?”

  He slips the key back in my hand.

  “Give me some time. I’ll think about it...”

  I look at him, washed with disbelief.

  “I promise,” he says seriously.

  His phone rings. He takes the call.

  “Yeah... Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  I flip my eyes to the clock. It’s twelve o’clock. Sharp. And then the revelation bleeds through me.

  Oh my fucking God!

  I can’t believe it. It’s a scheduled pickup. He must’ve planned this all along.

  How stupid can I be?

  “Who was that?”

  He waggles his finger at me, grinning.

  “Don’t do that, Senna.”

  He leans into me and places a soft kiss on my cheek that turns me to mush. I turn to stone as he tears away.

  “I’ll let you know about the car and everything else. If you don’t hear from me till then, Merry Christmas.”

  Dumbstruck, I stare at him as he swaggers away, my heart collapsing in my chest.

  JADEN

  The ocean stretches in front of us, white crests breaking against the shore.

  The breeze sweeps the beach, tousling my hair and ruffling my towel.

  “Jaden... Jaden...”

  Emma shoots her arms in the air and runs to me, waddling her little body, like a baby penguin. As soon as she hits the sand, her small feet being to sink, bringing her to a sudden halt.

  She bends at her waist and struggles to regain her balance, looking at me on the cusp of crying.

  I sit upright.

  “You can do it, baby. Come on. Easy... Come on. I’m here. I’ll catch you.”

  I open my arms. She pulls up all the way and steps gingerly toward me under my attentive eyes. She gets closer, and just as I’m about to praise for her effort, she loses her balance.

  Her arms flip back while her eyes pull wide open. I leap up and catch her. She giggles as I lift her up, her sand coated fingers brushing my face.

  I feel the grains of sand between my teeth.

  “Smart move, Emma...”

  Amused, she snickers again, her hands assaulting me, smearing sand and salty water all over my face.

  “That is not funny,” I say, feeding her laughter.

  Grinning, I pull her into my chest and lean back in the lounge chair. I start to tickle her, and she begins to laugh, her eyes sparkling with glee.

  “What did she do?” Sara’s voice rings out behind us.

  She sinks into a chair next to me, glancing at us.

  “Oh, I see...” she says. “Give her to me.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I mutter.

  “At least, let me clean your face,” she says.

  She wipes my face with a small towel. As she does, Emma presses her hands on my cheeks again, her chest rocking with laughter.

  “Maybe you should start with her hands...” I say, smiling.

  “Yeah... No kidding. Stay still, sweetie,” Sara says as she starts cleaning Emma’s fingers.

  Minutes later, Emma lays her cheek on my chest and closes her eyes, her breaths quickly rolling steadily as she drifts off to sleep.

  Sara checks the time.

  “We should go now so she can have her afternoon nap.”

  “Relax... Let her sleep. We go when she wakes up. Otherwise, she’ll get all fussy.”

  She tosses the napkin in her beach bag and stretches her bikini-clad body in the lounge chair. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looks at the horizon.

  Seagulls quarrel on the beach over morsels of food. The air is warm and dry this time of year, the water slightly cooler than it was last summer.

  “Some days, I wish I didn’t have to go back,” she mutters, looking in the distance.

  I study her in silence. She glances at me.

  “I know it’s not possible, but I wish it were,” she says with a soft voice, a nostalgic grin curving her lips.

  “What if it was possible?”

  She searches my eyes for a few moments.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and Emma may be able to stay here for a while,” I say quietly.

  “How?” she asks, baffled.

  “I just received, um... a job offer.”

  “You don’t sound very convinced. Besides, what kind of job can pay for all of this?”

  Tilting her chin, she motions to the beach and the rental house, sitting not far from us.

  “It’s a job that pays well. A few times over what I used to make. You’d be able to move here with Emma if that’s what you want.”

  “Where would you be?”

  “Back in town. Room and board are included.”

  Her eyebrows lift slowly.

  “What kind of job is it?” she asks suspiciously.

  “It’s a regular job, computer stuff. I’d be able to come here regularly to see you and Emma. It’s safer for both of you. The ocean and the beach are nearby. People are friendly. The place is quiet. ”

  She examines me for a moment.

  “Is that a solid offer?”

  I smile.

  “It is for now... but it’s like anything else. It can change at any given moment. I’m not making long-term plans with it, but it’s a good opportunity to make this move. I’d rather see Emma here, in a safer neighborhood, then stuck in some crowded part of the city.”

  “Me too. But if you say you’re not sure...”

  “I’m not saying that... If anything changes, I’ll figure something out. I know it’s hard to depend solely on me, but I’ll make it work. When Emma gets older, and you finish school, you’ll get your own job, and things will get better. You’ll see.”

  Emma shifts her body just as I finish talking. She lifts her head, sleepy eyes staring at the tip of my nose.

  I motion to Sara.

  “Time to go, girls.”

  14

  SENNA

  “Good evening, Ms. Lloyd. Merry Christmas!”

  Evading the hotel clerk’s eyes, I snatch the key card, mumble an answer and veer away from the concierge desk.

  The click-clacking of my heels resonates across the lobby, all the way to the elevator, turning a few heads.

  Way to go, Senna.

  Admittedly, I've gone crazy with this outfit. Had they not known who I was, they would’ve thrown me out of the hotel.

  The flared, black mini skirt barely covers my ass. The matching garters peeking from underneath could easily get me arrested. A push-up bra spills half of my chest out.

  A fitted, button-down shirt ties at my belly button while a cropped leather jacket drapes over my shoulders, stopping short of my waist. The knee length, high heel, black boots dispel all doubts in case there were any.

  Every single person I have crossed paths with–– including the clerk at the reception desk, knows exactly why I’m here and what I’m after.

  I may as well have it tattooed on my forehead. Balls included. All I’m missing is the whip and the cuffs. I’m sure Abel took care of that.

  Dark like my outfit, I take the elevator up, glaring at my reflection. I look as if I fell off the Halloween bus.

  Whatever. I don’t care. I’m here to get my fix. Anything to take my mind off him. Anything to stop my teeth from grinding, my hands from curling up into fists and my mind from spinning, uselessly.

  Anything to bottle up my fury.

  He fucking played me. He fucking did. And so fucking well.

  A classic bait and switch. How can I be so blind and stupid?

  He picked a fight–– typical, and then pointed out my own problems––again, not surprising so, when all along he was planning to get out of my house.

  He could’ve fucking told me without all that set-up.

  Hours after he left, I cursed and worked myself out to exhaustion, and then I went to a shoo
ting range. On my way there, I almost wrecked my car.

  I’m actually angrier at myself than I am with him. One of the things I’ve always planned for was to not need other people. Men in particular. Hot men right there at the top of my list.

  I can’t stand that feeling. Needing someone so badly you lose your sleep, and you can’t eat, because your mind is hacked by that person.

  Why the hell do I have to need him?

  But this will end. Right here, and right now.

  Balancing on my four-inch heels, I slip out of the elevator and strut to the room. The door opens before I get the chance to swipe my key card, a strong arm pulling me in.

  Fast and smooth, Abel shackles my hands behind my back and blindfolds me. Following my strict instructions, he doesn’t say a word.

  He crashes my back against the wall and pulls my shirt out of my skirt, and then he cups and kneads my breasts. Pressing his hard body against mine, he trails the side of my neck with his lips, his erection rubbing against me.

  I’m cold as stone.

  But I can’t have this right now, and I know the remedy for it.

  Swiftly, I bring back the memory of him. His hands on me, and his cock rubbing against me while his hot breath rolls onto my lips.

  For a few moments, it all goes well, and something tightens in my belly. Not strong enough to hold.

  Damn it. It’s even worse than I thought. What pleasure have I drawn from Abel is now gone.

  He slides one hand to my neck, the other up my skirt. My body turns to ice as if I’m under some wicked spell. The memory of Jaden withers away as well.

  Nothing seems to work right now.

  And he knows it. He feels it.

  “Is there something wrong, Senna?”

  He stops. I glance up at him.

  “I’m sorry, Abel,” I say softly, my voice on the cusp of tears.

  He looks at me for a few moments, and then he curls his arms around me, comforting me, while I burst into a quiet sob.

  He slowly strokes my hair.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asks, and my chest hurts.

  Tears start streaming down my cheeks as I slowly shake my head. His eyes are soft. His touch is gentle. He offers me all the comfort that I need, and yet, there’s nothing I can give to him.

  My blood screams for Jaden.

  As if I needed another curse. Another sin. Another pain. Another man to rip me open. Another soul to keep me caged.

  “No,” I finally say.

  He wipes the tears off my face and kisses my cheek tenderly as I wrap my arms around him, and hold him tightly.

  Half an hour later, I leave the hotel room, my hair a mess, my lipstick gone, dark circles around my eyes.

  Holding my head low, I slither out of the lobby and strut across the parking lot. Swiftly, I enter my car, turn on the ignition, and back away, heading home.

  I roll the window down.

  The cold, drizzling rain reminds me of the northern winters. It’s Christmas Eve, and the streets are empty. Here and there, I drive past homes beaming with lights and sparkling decorations, the silhouettes of people shifting behind the windows.

  Sadly for me, this evening will go down as one of the lowest points of my existence.

  My life was never perfect, but there were things I had under control. Despite feeling lonely at times, my emotions were always in check.

  I drive home, crippled by sadness.

  As the gates slide open and my car rolls onto the driveway, hundreds of flickering Christmas lights fill my sight, greeting me with a display of colors and sparks. It took hours of work to make my house look like a fairy tale. It wasn’t even my idea. It was Harper’s. To lift my spirits, she said.

  A tall Christmas tree lights up a window.

  I step out and brace the top of the car with both hands, a nauseating feeling creeping up my throat.

  “You okay?”

  Startled, I jolt and turn around. A dark silhouette pushes off the side door and strides to me.

  Not far from him, I notice his bike.

  “How did you get in?”

  He motions to the gates.

  “You should’ve changed the passcode,” he says walking into a patch of light.

  Rain shimmers in his hair.

  His eyes narrow as he takes me in, flashing an amused smile. He slides his hands into his pockets, his tongue flicking the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

  “My fucking luck,” he says, pulling the cigarette out.

  His eyes go down on my legs.

  “I thought you were home,” he says, with a different voice, flicking his gaze up and locking my eyes.

  A cocky smile tilts his lips.

  “Who knew you’d go out on Christmas Eve, especially in this kind of weather,” he says, taking in my outfit, utterly entertained.

  I jolt out of the surprise and disbelief, shaking off the spell as I recollect the last hour or so of misery. Eating a curse, I wave him off and head to the house.

  Careful not to break a heel, I strut to the door. His eyes drop to my heels, his bottom lip slowly rolling beneath his teeth as he barely contains his laughter.

  “You could’ve called,” I say, irritated.

  “I wanted to make you a surprise,” he says, his eyes roving on my ass as I enter the house. “It looks like you just made me one,” he says, following me inside.

  I spin around fast. He raises his eyes, still glinting with amusement. Glaring, I turn the ceiling lights on.

  He shoots his hands up in the air, chuckling.

  “Wow! Is there a slut convention in town, and I haven’t been invited?”

  “Ha, ha,” I sneer, throwing my keys on the counter and the jacket on the sofa.

  The jacket slips off the couch. Without giving it a second thought, I bend at my waist and snatch it off the floor, flashing my butt.

  “Jesus, Senna... Garters? Fuck me heels? Who did you fuck?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.

  Calm, he lights up his cigarette, his jacket still on.

  Glowering, I run my hand through my hair and comb it all back before I pull my shirt out of my skirt and start flicking the buttons open.

  “I didn’t fuck anyone,” I say, frustration bleeding in my voice.

  “You clearly need it...” he says.

  Calm, he exhales smoke to the side, his eyes still weighing me.

  “Badly,” he adds.

  “No. I don’t need it.”

  “Then why’d you strip for me?”

  He bites the inside of his cheek, crushing a smile, and then he flicks his tongue over his lip. He lets his cigarette rest in the ashtray as he peels off his jacket.

  My eyes fall on him.

  A slim fit T-shirt clings to his torso, his jeans hugging his hips and package.

  He rests his elbow on the counter while shoving the other hand into his pocket. Leaning back, he crosses his legs, his bulge pushing against his fly.

  I get tense and hot. Instantly, I get annoyed.

  “I don’t strip for you. My shirt is soaked,” I say.

  “Yeah... Mmm-hmmm. Sure, babe.”

  Throwing him a glare, I open the door to the washer room and throw my shirt in a hamper.

  His eyes light up with a wolfish smile.

  “So what happened with your fuck date?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

  His pecs thrust out, snagging my gaze. An insolent grin stretches across his lips.

  “The man couldn’t deliver?”

  I stop in front of him, itching to slap the smile off his face. Gripping my hips, I clench my jaw, trying to contain my fury.

  “It had nothing to do with him.”

  “No?”

  He tosses me a teasing smile.

  Frustrated, I throw my hands up in the air and walk around the counter.

  “You want something to drink?” I ask.

  He sways his head side to side.

  I open a cabinet and pull out a bottle and g
lass.

  “I thought you were a wine girl,” he says as I fill the glass with ice and as much scotch as I can cram in.

  I toss it back and slam the glass on the counter.

  “You don’t know much about me,” I say, wincing as the alcohol burns my throat.

  His eyes twinkle with mischief.

  “You need to get laid so badly,” he says.

  Lowering my eyes, I start washing my glass.

  “Why are you here, Jaden?” I ask brashly, shooting him a glance.

  His gaze rises slowly from my breasts to my eyes.

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he picks up his cigarette, takes a drag, and stubs it out. His smile dies out as he lets out the smoke in a soft stream.

  Calm, he grabs his jacket and ambles out of the kitchen.

  “Jaden?”

  Blind with fury, I march behind him.

  He turns around fast, and our bodies touch for a moment, my skin burning as if caught on fire.

  I take a step back, my eyes floating over him.

  I’m so losing this battle.

  I feel so lousy, and yet the words fall from lips.

  “Don’t leave,” I say.

  He ponders, his eyes changing colors, looking silver beneath his long lashes.

  There’s no smile on his face and a muscle pulses in his jaw. I can’t see a damn thing on his face, but my gut tells me he is one second away from leaving for good.

  “Please,” I say, never in my life feeling so torn.

  A few moments of silence dance around us. They feel like hours. He tosses his jacket back on the armchair. With a few strides erases the space between us. I retreat until my back meets the washroom entrance. His palms slide on the wooden door guarding my back.

  “I won’t leave if you tell me why it hasn’t worked out for you this evening,” he says with a quiet voice.

  My eyes dart back and forth, my throat tight from emotions.

  “Answer me, Senna,” he says, still quiet but firm.

  I don’t see a way around this.

  As I struggle to come up with an explanation, he slides his hand down to my wrap skirt and pops the only button open. The skirt drops on the floor.

  His eyes dip as he takes in the small strip of fabric barely covering my slit and the garters outlining my waist and hips.

  “It’s not working since we, um...”

  He flicks his eyes up.