Wounded Soul
By
Annabelle Jacobs
Copyright
Cover artist: Garrett Leigh
Editor: Boho Edits
Wounded Soul © 2019 Annabelle Jacobs
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
WARNING
This book contains material that maybe offensive to some and is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, graphic violence, explicit sexual content and adult situations.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY ANNABELLE JACOBS
CHAPTER ONE
“I’m gonna tell him.” Ian leant against the bar and downed the rest of his drink, determination settling into his bones, no doubt fuelled by alcohol.
He tracked Blake’s movements as he danced with abandon, not giving a shit if he made a tit of himself. Ian grinned.
Cate refilled his glass, frown in place, and set it down on the counter with a sigh. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Why?” He pointed at the dance floor, beer bottle in hand. “He’s my best friend, Cate.” And I’m in love with him. “It’s getting harder to hide it from him.”
She leant over the bar and grabbed his arm as he headed for the dance floor. “I’m pretty sure he knows.”
That stopped him in his tracks, and his smile vanished. “What d’you mean?”
“Fuck.” With a glance down the rest of the bar to make sure no one was waiting, she slipped out from behind the counter and took the stool next to him. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
“I’ve never once hit on him, or—”
“You don’t need to. Your body language speaks for you. You don’t look at anybody else the way you look at Blake.”
Ian blew out a breath and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Bollocks.” Deep down he knew the answer but couldn’t stop himself from twisting the knife. “If he knows, then why hasn’t he said anything?”
The look of pity Cate gave him made him want to throw up. “You know why.” Her voice was far too soft; she never spoke to him like this. “I’m sorry, Ian, I really am.” They both watched as Blake flirted with a short blond guy—the total opposite to Ian.
When they started to kiss, Ian turned away, concentrating very hard on his bottle of beer. “He doesn’t feel that way about me.”
“No.” Cate put her arm around him and gave him a sideways hug. “I know it sucks, but you need to stop moping over something that’s never going to happen and move the fuck on.”
That was more like the Cate he knew, but her words stung.
“Jesus, thanks for the sympathy.”
Returning to her spot behind the bar, she sighed. “I’ve watched you pine after him for the last three years. Blake’s a nice guy and I love him like a brother, but he’s not the only nice guy out there.” She served a couple of girls, and Ian waited.
She wasn’t done and he knew better than to walk off halfway through one of her lectures.
After taking the girls’ money, she turned back to him. “You’ve spent so long fixated on him, I’m not sure whether you actually do love him or you’ve just got used to thinking you do.”
“That’s bollocks.”
“Is it?” she said, raising her voice as the bar got busier. “You don’t even bother to look for anyone else these days. It’s easier to tell yourself that Blake’s the only one for you and switch off. That way you never get hurt.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
She glanced around the pub, packed as usual on a Saturday night. “I can see at least three guys within ten feet of us that are exactly your type.” She raised an eyebrow. “Without turning round, tell me where they are.”
Taking a swig of beer, Ian frantically tried to think of who he’d seen stood near them.
And came up with nothing.
Fuck.
“You can’t, can you?” Cate shook her head and tsked. “Because you came with Blake, propped yourself at the bar, and watched him all night. Even though you and I both know he’s going to go home with someone who isn’t you. Why?” Leaning close, she took his hand. “Why fucking torture yourself?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled into his bottle. Fuck it, she was right. He hadn’t looked at another bloke in months. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had even caught his eye. He glanced back at the dance floor, not surprised to see Blake walking towards the exit, blond guy in tow.
“The best way to start getting over him is to pick one of the many willing participants in this bar and go have some meaningless, super-hot sex.” When Ian huffed, Cate raised her eyebrows. “Or have you forgotten how to pick up a bloke?”
“Course not.”
She hummed as though not believing a word he said, and even though he knew she was doing it to get a rise out of him, he felt it working. The alcohol amped up his need to prove her wrong, and he set his empty bottle down on the bar a little too forcefully.
“Hey,” she chided, snatching it from his hand and tossing it in the recycling. “Want another?”
“Nope.” Ian shook his head, turning his back on her to scan the rest of the pub. He ignored her soft laughter, but when she leaned in, hand on his shoulder, and whispered, “Go have some fun, you deserve it,” he patted her hand to let her know he’d heard.
The pub was packed with all sorts tonight. Some looking like they’d come straight from work, others in tiny shorts and not much else. Despite what Cate thought, Ian didn’t have a type as such. He found himself attracted to a nice smile that reached a person’s eyes more than a particular build or hair colour. He also liked to chat for a bit first. Not that he was opposed to one-offs or anything, but he’d fucked enough wankers to not want to do it anymore. Didn’t matter how hot they were.
He let his gaze wander, but as per usual, no one made him look twice. The dance floor was crammed with attractive people, the bar area too, but none of them held that something that Ian was looking for. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Maybe Cate was right. Maybe he was too hung up on Blake to even notice anyone else.
But what the fuck was he supposed to do about that?
“Excuse me, can I buy you a drink?” The voice held the barest hint of a northern accent, South Yorkshire maybe.
Ian dropped his hand, prepared to politely decline, but the words never came.
; The guy standing in front of him was about six one, six two. He had short, dark hair, not that Ian was paying it all that much attention because his gaze was drawn to the soft, slightly sheepish but genuine smile.
“Um . . . yeah, okay.” Smooth, Ian.
Running a hand through his own hair and suddenly wishing he’d made more of an effort, Ian held out his hand automatically. “Ian Moreton.” It registered a second later. For God’s sake, he was offering a handshake to a potential hook-up. He really was out of practice. “Fuck, sorry.” He went to snatch it back, but a cool, soft hand slipped into his, grip firm.
“Jesse Sykes.” Jesse’s smile grew. “It’s been a while since someone wanted to shake my hand in a place like this.” There was no mocking, just a gentle teasing to his voice and dark eyes that crinkled at the corners.
Ian hoped the low lighting hid his blush. “Force of habit.” He met new people on a daily basis, thanks to his job, but he’d never carried it over to his evening activities before. “And yes, I’d love another beer, thanks.” Turning to the bar, he wasn’t all that surprised to see Cate waiting to serve them, smirk in place.
“What can I get you?” she asked Jesse, already setting Ian’s beer in front of him.
Jesse scanned the shelves behind her. “Whisky neat, please.” He flashed Cate a smile, then turned his gaze on Ian.
In the dim lights of the bar, Jesse’s eyes seemed almost black, the line between iris and pupil hard to detect. The intensity in that look made Ian’s toes curl and his stomach flutter. “Not a beer drinker?” he asked, reaching for his own drink.
“No.” Jesse ran a finger around the top of the glass Cate had given him. “Apart from the odd one of these, I’m not one for alcohol these days.” He took a small sip, then set it back on the counter.
He made it sound as though he’d been around for years, but to Ian he didn’t look much older than late twenties. He didn’t ask though.
With another swig of his beer, he let his gaze wander, taking Jesse in from head to toe and not bothering to be subtle about it. He wanted to give him the right impression after all. The dark jeans and jumper Jesse wore looked expensive—not that Ian was an expert in any way—but they fit him too well to be anything else. Pale, long fingers curled around his glass, and Ian tried to picture them around his cock instead.
The image sent a flash of heat to his groin, surprising him. Only Blake had made him feel like that for the past few months.
Usually Ian liked to talk more than exchanging a few pleasantries, needed to get to know someone at least a little before taking them home, but there was something about Jesse that just . . . called to him. As corny as that sounded, it was true.
Not wanting to lose the spark ignited inside him, Ian set his bottle down with purpose.
Jesse’s raised eyebrow said he’d noticed.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Ian rested it on his thigh. “My flat is about ten minutes’ walk from here.”
Jesse laughed. “You don’t mess about, do you?”
Ian smirked. This was so out of character for him, he almost didn’t believe it was happening. He caught Cate giving him an odd look. Couldn’t even blame it on beer, either, since this was only his third. He shrugged. “It’s getting late. I don’t want to waste the rest of the night on unnecessary small talk when we could be in my bed. Naked.”
Jesse pushed his drink away and stood, lips curving up into the sexiest smile Ian had seen in a long while. “You make an excellent point.” He gestured towards the exit. “Shall we?”
“One sec.” Ian turned his phone and clicked on the camera. “I’m sure you’re not a serial killer or anything—”
“Not for years.” Jesse grinned at him, eyes alight with amusement.
“Good to know.” He held up his phone. “Mind if I take your picture and send it to Cate?” He nodded at where Cate now stood, watching them. “Just in case you decide to go back to your old ways. At least she’ll have something to show the police.”
Jesse smiled and lifted his chin slightly. “Be my guest.”
Ian took the photo. Even with shitty lighting and his two-year-old phone, Jesse was stunning. “Cate,” he said, sending her the photo. “This is Jesse Sykes. I’m taking him home with me, so if I disappear off the face of the earth, you know who did it.”
“That’s not funny.” She shook her head, then checked her phone. “Got it.”
Ian frowned, just noticing her bare wrist. “Why don’t you wear your Apple Watch? I bought it so you wouldn’t have to stash your phone at work.”
“It’s in my bag still. I decided it’s too nice to wear to work.” She waved him away. “Go, enjoy your night.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He winked at her, drawing a reluctant smile.
“You better.” She glanced at Jesse, who now had his back to her, and mouthed, “Have fun.”
That’s the plan.
THE COOL AIR hit them as soon as they left the bar. A relatively mild spring evening, by official standards, but cold in contrast to the over-heated pub.
Ian shivered.
Jesse didn’t so much as flinch. Maybe that jumper was warmer than it looked.
They walked along in silence, not uncomfortable exactly, but knowing they were headed back to his flat for sex, Ian couldn’t think of anything to say. Anything that wouldn’t sound ridiculous or forced anyway.
“Do you do this a lot then?” Jesse asked, breaking the silence.
“What?” Ian narrowed his eyes.
“This.” He gestured between the two of them. “I’m curious since you seem to have a routine all set up with the lovely young lady tending bar.”
Ian laughed at the thought of Cate being described as a lovely young lady. Sounded like something his grandad would say. “Cate’s one of my best friends. But no, I don’t do this often.”
Not at all, recently.
When his mind started to wander back to Blake, Ian shut it down immediately. “You live around here?” He asked more for something to occupy his thoughts than because he wanted to know. Odds were they wouldn’t be seeing each other again after tonight.
“I have a flat I share not far from here.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Clifton way. But that tends to be more of a crash pad.”
“Nice,” Ian muttered. He was right about Jesse having money. Bristol didn’t have London prices, but it wasn’t cheap either. Especially not in Clifton. “So where do you live when you aren’t out exploring the city?”
Jesse hesitated for a moment, then said, “Just outside of Tetbury.”
Ian let out a low whistle. “Also nice.”
“It serves its purpose.”
That struck him as an odd thing to say about a home, but they were almost at Ian’s flat, so he let it slide. “This is me.” He gestured to the dark-blue front door of his building.
Jesse glanced up, taking it all in. “What floor are you on?”
“Top.” There were four floors. When he’d been looking for a place to live, there’d been two apartments for sale—the basement and the one he’d ended up with. He’d rather have a couple of flights of stairs to climb than live below street level. Something about it weirded him out.
Jesse crowded behind him when they reached his floor. The front of him pressed snuggly against Ian’s back, while his hands found Ian’s waist, grip firm. “Do you like being on the top?”
Ian heard the amusement in his tone and glanced over his shoulder. “I like living on the top floor, yes.” He grinned. “But if we’re talking sex, I like a bit of everything.”
“Oh good.” Jesse dipped his head and kissed along the back of Ian’s neck, drawing a shiver out of him. “That makes two of us.” He carried on kissing him, lips barely brushing Ian’s skin, and it took Ian a couple of goes to unlock the door.
Once inside, Ian turned and backed Jesse against the wall, pushing the door shut at the same time. Jesse went willingly, cupping Ian’s jaw as Ian kissed him. His lips were soft, the
hint of stubble adding a touch of roughness to it that had Ian’s cock straining in his jeans.
Cate was right.
It’d been way too long since he’d done something like this. Since he’d allowed himself to have this.
Jesse wasn’t Blake, but as one-night stands went, he was pretty fucking hot.
“C’mon,” Ian mumbled between kisses, stepping back and taking Jesse’s hand. “Bedroom’s this way.” He led him down the short hall, fingers loosely twined and heart racing with anticipation.
Ian’s bed was still unmade from that morning, but he didn’t give a shit. He doubted Jesse did either judging by the way he pushed Ian down onto it and climbed on top of him. Their bodies aligned, Jesse’s cock pressing against Ian’s through the fabric of their jeans.
“Much better,” Jesse whispered, rolling his hips a little. He was all lean, hard muscle, and Ian ran his hands up Jesse’s back, loving the feel of all that power pinning him to the bed. “But we’re a little over dressed.”
Jesse ducked his head, nipping along Ian’s collarbone, exposed where the top button of his shirt had come undone. Reaching to undo the rest of them, Jesse murmured, “Let’s remedy that.” He kissed every inch of skin he uncovered, the slow, tortuous tease making Ian curl his hands into fists on the quilt beneath him.
He’d be more than happy for Jesse to rip everything off and have done with it, but Jesse hummed as he mouthed at Ian’s skin, appearing to enjoy going slow. Not that Ian didn’t. He was just imagining that mouth around his cock, and the image wouldn’t leave his head.
Wanting to move things along, he reached between them and unbuttoned his jeans.
“Someone’s impatient,” Jesse muttered, a smile in his voice. Batting Ian’s hand out of the way, he shuffled lower and peeled Ian’s jean’s open.
“Not impatient, just . . . ahh.” Ian moaned midsentence when Jesse mouthed at the head of his cock through the taut material of his boxers. “Eager,” he managed eventually.
Jesse’s hands were cool, and Ian shivered when they touched his hips, sliding his jeans and underwear down together. Lifting his hips, Ian helpfully allowed them to be pulled off altogether, and before he could tell Jesse to do the same, Jesse’s clothes were joining his on the floor.
Wounded Soul Page 1
