by Jo Raven
Which is why I’m saving money. I need to be ready for whatever life throws into my path next. For once, I want to stay on my feet. Is it too fucking much to ask?
It’s in the middle of my shift at the café when Jason calls me. I forgot I even gave him my new number, and the bad feeling churning in my gut when I hear his voice cuts clear through my worries about Amber and the future.
“J? You okay?” he yells into the phone, and I wince, pulling it away from my ear. “Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you. Calm down.” I put the cell back to my ear. “What’s going on? Why the hell are you shouting?”
“Sorry. I’m in the waiting room in St. Mary’s. It’s packed full of people, like you wouldn’t believe.”
“St. Mary’s? Why?” I glance at the tables and the few customers, then at Megan who’s leaning back on the bar, observing. I turn my back and head for the door.
“We got another one down. A girl this time, Mia. It was him. Simon Gomez.”
“You can’t know that.” Yet my stomach is knotting up.
“They saw him, man. But nobody will testify.”
Dammit. “Why would he do this?”
“Think, J. Why did he beat you up back then?”
“Crazy bastard said I was on his turf.”
“You know Kaia died right?”
The pimp controlling the neighborhood, the one that kept Simon back until now.
I stumble as I go down the steps to the street and barely catch myself before I fall. “What? When?”
“Ten days ago. The night Mikey was beaten. Then he caught Kyle, and now Mia. He’s got drugs circulating, and he wants us away. As you said, a crazy bastard.”
Fuck, fuck. “Mia should tell the police. She—”
“You should do it, J. She’s just a kid, and tomorrow she’ll be back on the street. Can’t afford it, but you… He won’t even know who ratted him out. I doubt he remembers you after three years.”
But maybe he does.
Jason doesn’t know the whole story. Nobody does but me. It’s personal all right. Simon wanted more than just vacation of the premises. He wanted me to join him.
And as a first step, he demanded I go down on him. When I refused, he tried to force me. I was exhausted from hunger and a bad cold that wouldn’t let up. But I fought back, and I have the fucking scars to show for it.
He didn’t get his way. For a man like him, that has to be something memorable.
“This is a shitty plan,” I mutter, “and you know it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the only plan we got, baby,” Jason drawls and disconnects.
***
Telling Mel to hold the taco fort and that I’ll be in late, I head to St. Mary’s.
Mel… is important to me. He used to feed me when I was hungry. I’d pass by late, and he’d give me his leftovers. I owe him, and even though the pay is damn low, I wouldn’t dream of leaving him without help.
Zane doesn’t know this. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about me.
On my way to the hospital, I feel an itch between my shoulder blades as if someone is watching me. Following me.
Which is laughable. I check over my shoulder, just in case, and think I see a shadow skulking away, but that’s bullshit. Why would anyone follow me?
St. Mary’s emergency room is packed when I walk inside. I see Jason the moment he spots me, too, and we move toward each other. He looks frazzled and out of place, dressed in his skin-tight, ripped jeans and silver tank top, showing off his tats and scars.
“Whatcha doing here?” He sounds brisk and gruff, but the relief is shining out of his face. “Didn’t think you’d come.”
“Yeah well, here I am.” I shove my hands into my pant pockets. “Just because I don’t live on the street anymore doesn’t mean I don’t fucking care.”
He shrugs. I don’t think he believes me. “I’d do the same in your shoes, man,” he says. “Get out as fast as I can and not look back.”
Right. So much for getting through to him. “Where’s Mia?”
“This way. They’re about to discharge her. She’ll be okay.”
You wouldn’t think it by looking at her. A slight girl with short, dark hair and large green eyes, beaten black and blue. A bandage over her eye is hiding stitches, and the way she’s holding herself hints at bruised ribs.
Pressure is building in my chest. Rage. I have to do something about this. These are my people, no matter what Jason thinks. I can’t let this happen again.
But what the fuck can I do? How can I take them off the street and protect them from life’s blows? Even if I used up the money I’ve saved…
The money I saved for myself. To protect myself.
Dammit.
I stare at Jason, who’s helping the girl fill out forms and shit, his face lined with concern, without really seeing them, thoughts buzzing inside my skull like angry bees.
I know what I have to do, and to hell with being afraid. Time to act.
Chapter Seventeen
Amber
“You can do this.” Staring into the full-length mirror of my bedroom, I assess my appearance one last time.
Of course, that’s what I told myself five minutes ago, too.
Kayla said I look good enough to eat. That’s good, right? I smooth down my short silver dress, pat my pendant—made by moi—wiggle my painted toes in my strappy sandals, and remember how Jesse stared at me when I tried the dress on at the shop.
Like he was drinking me up with his eyes. And God, he’d looked so unbelievably handsome in his new shirt and pants.
Despite my best efforts, I peek at my watch again, checking the time. Will he keep his promise, take me to the wedding?
When he walked out of here yesterday morning without a word, after the night we spent together, I got his number from Ev and called him, but he never picked up.
Why?
My face heats at the memory of his body moving against mine, inside mine, of the things he said.
Of course, after that, I had to go and open my big mouth, question everything. I’m beginning to regret it now—but worse still, I may have been right to think this isn’t anything important to him.
Because he isn’t here. And he may not show up at all. There’s your clue, Amber. Open your damn eyes.
I glance again at my watch.
Kayla left an hour ago, and Ev is going with Micah. Stupid that I counted on Jesse to keep his word. A heartbreaker. A skirt chaser. Stupid that I counted on anyone at all.
Don’t rely on others. Stand on your own two feet. Don’t show weakness. How could I forget my lessons?
Be strong and face your fears. The wedding reception will suck, but you won’t die from it. And then it will be over, and you’ll have survived.
I wander away from the mirror, pushing back irritably a lock of dark hair that has escaped my chignon and is trailing on my cheek. Showing weakness is the best way to get hurt again. On top of that, I told him about my fears, touched him, kissed him, had sex with him.
Oh God… Haven’t I learned anything?
I grab the lion pendant from the wall and sink on my bed, letting it roll on my palm, cool and hard.
Embers. A lost toy. A lost childhood.
He should have this, I think, and the thought wheels through my mind, gathering momentum.
I’ll give it to him. Even if he never comes to pick me up, even if this was all we had. Because he’s still battling demons, and he should have something to hold on to, something to give him strength.
Yeah, if I see him again. Would passing by his apartment to drop the pendant off look weird?
I put the pendant into my purse, undecided. In any case, it’s way past time to leave, and he’s not here. Throttling the disappointment swelling in my chest, I make up my mind to stop wondering and waiting and fretting. I’ll grab a cab and go.
See? I’m a big girl.
I’m already on my feet, my purse slung over my shoulder and my wedding gift in my
hands—a set of cute baby clothes I bought for Asher’s and Audrey’s son—when the door buzzer goes off. It’s one of those annoying ding-dong sounds.
Frozen like a deer in headlights, I swallow hard.
Can’t be him. Maybe Kayla forgot something. Or it’s a mistake.
Don’t get your hopes up, girl. He isn’t coming.
And if it’s him?
Dropping my purse on the sofa, I walk as if through water to the door phone and press the button, excited and dreading.
“Who is it?”
“Embers, it’s me, Jesse,” his warm voice says over the speaker. “Look, I know I’m kinda late… There was something I had to take care of, but I’m here now. Let me in?”
Heat spreads down my neck, and I realize I’m smiling.
Oh dear baby Jesus. I need to stop this right now.
I buzz him up without answering, not trusting my voice. I pat my heated cheeks, wonder if I have time to splash some cold water on my face before he comes up—but he’s knocking on my door after what feels like a nanosecond.
Okay, here goes.
I open the door and find him lounging against the doorjamb, that familiar, sexy grin in place. He’s not wearing his baseball cap, and that’s my last conscious thought before my mind goes blank and heat seeps into every part of me.
Wow. Holy crap.
In his new metallic blue shirt that makes his eyes sparkle like shards of topaz, in dark pants and black shoes, he’s drop-dead gorgeous—more gorgeous than any guy has any right to be. So unfair. How can I keep my distance now?
He pushes off the doorframe, sleeves rolled-up, displaying his powerful forearms—all liquid grace and strength.
“Hey,” he says, and the dark undercurrent of his voice pins me to the spot. His gaze sweeps over me, from my head to my painted toes, in a heatwave. “Fuck, you…” He stops, swallows hard, licks his lips. “You’re so pretty.”
My heart is pounding. “You clean up nicely yourself,” I find myself saying, and he gives a husky laugh, his lashes lowering over his eyes.
Man, he’s sexy. I want him to kiss me, to hold me, to touch me like he did two nights ago.
“I’m thirsty,” he says.
“One minute.” I turn toward the kitchen, and my purse slips from my shoulder to the floor with a quiet flop.
He bends and grabs it, though he doesn’t give it back to me, instead watching me with that lazy half-grin, and his eyes hooded.
Whoa. Get yourself together, Amber.
I hurry to the kitchen and pour him a glass from the tap. When I turn, he’s right behind me, and I yelp when he grips my arm to stop me from dropping the glass and harming myself as I flail.
“Jesus, JJ.”
“You make me thirsty,” he whispers, pries the glass from my nerveless fingers and places it on the counter. “Can’t stop thinking about you.”
Then he puts his hands on the counter on either side of me and hems me in, pressing his long, taut body into mine. His face dips and his firm, warm mouth closes over mine. Pressure, heat, and when my lips part under the onslaught, his tongue thrusts inside, and I melt in his hold.
Chocolate and spice, bitter and sweet and scorching, so hot I can’t help the small sounds rising from my chest. I grab his arms, nails digging into his biceps, because I feel as if I’m falling from a skyscraper, tumbling into a dark void.
He breaks the kiss and I stare, dizzy, into his sea-colored eyes. “Damn, girl…” He shakes his head, struggling for breath as I am. “Can’t control myself around you.” He shifts, and his arousal presses into my side, branding me through the dress.
Makes me catch my breath on a gasp.
“I came to take you to the wedding,” he rasps, lifting a hand to my face, staring into my eyes, “and to make you see I want to be with you. I know you’re having doubts, that it was a one-night stand to you, that it means nothing—but it does mean a lot to me. I’ve never felt like this before. Fuck, I’ve never asked this of any girl before, but can you…?” He groans, bending over me. “Christ, Embers.”
He takes my mouth again, before I have a chance to comprehend what he’s telling me, and pushes me up until I lift myself and wrap a leg around him, my ass propped on the edge of the counter.
Be with me. Never felt this way before. Never asked—
Wait. One-night stand? Did he overhear what I said to Kayla –was that why he left without saying goodbye last time?
I push on his chest to break the kiss, to say something, but he shoves my short dress up and his big hand slips underneath it, rough and warm, right between my spread legs. His questing fingers push under my underwear and find my clit.
“Oh God,” I moan against his lips. “JJ…”
Need washes through me like a flash flood, making my toes curl and my legs tense. My breasts ache, and I throb inside, clenching on empty. I need… need him. My body is on fire.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing two fingers deep into me, his mouth moving to the corner of my mouth, then along my jaw and down my neck, leaving hot kisses and the sharp nip of his teeth.
I’m coming apart. The pressure is skyrocketing, my body tightening, tensing as he expertly takes me to the brink, fingers pumping, his thumb circling my clit, his mouth marking the juncture of my neck and shoulder—a counter beat of pain that plunges me without warning into a mind-blowing orgasm.
Biting my lip to keep quiet, I still can’t keep back a moan as the pressure reaches a breaking point, and I clench around his fingers, coming in long shudders, rocking against him.
On, and on, and on.
“Kitten… You okay?”
I hum an affirmative, unable to speak just yet. We stay like that, his face buried in my neck, me clutching at him, trying to come back to earth, shivers running down my spine. I’m fully seated on the counter by now, legs wrapped around his hips, and when he shifts again, uncomfortably, his massive hard-on pokes me where I’m still throbbing pleasantly.
“Oh God.” I bite my lip harder when he groans softly and rocks, rubbing his hardness over the soaked lace of my panties.
Suddenly the crazy orgasm I’ve just had isn’t enough. I need him inside me right now. I reach for the fly of his pants, and he pulls back a little, his eyes so dark they look black. When my fingers brush over his trapped erection, he jerks and grunts.
I grip the zipper. “What do you want—”
“You,” he says without hesitation and puts his hand over mine, shoving it down so that I unzip his fly. “How about you? What do you want, kitten?”
Bold, as I always am around him, I pull the zipper down all the way and slide my fingers into his pants. “This.”
But we both gasp, because—surprise, surprise—he’s going commando, and my hand finds the velvet skin of his hot, diamond-hard cock.
He’s panting harshly now, sweat making his brow gleam. We’re locked in a frozen time-frame, my hand wrapped around his hard-on, and he leaning with one hand on the counter, the other sliding up my arm.
A heartbeat passes. Then another, a vein beating on the underside of his cock fluttering against my palm. I rub my thumb up and down the soft skin, so deliciously stretched over a core of steel, and he whimpers as if he’s in pain.
“Embers,” he hisses, teeth gritted. “Can you just… Goddammit.”
I’m pulling his cock free of his pants, not an easy process. He’s big, and very hard. I end up undoing the button of his fly, opening his pants all the way.
He gives a heartfelt groan when I stroke him from root to tip, his eyes falling shut. I do it again, fascinating by the thickness of his shaft, the softness of the head, the wet spilling from the small slit, the small twitches it gives as I tug on it.
Fascinated by the sounds coming from Jesse with every stroke, the way his arm shakes and his hand clutches the back of my head like he has no control over his muscles. His jaw is slack, his lips parted. His eyes open when I tug on him harder. He lifts them to meet my gaze, but they are unfoc
used and heavy-lidded.
I trace the ridge behind the head of his cock, and his hips buck forward, a choked moan leaving his throat.
“Fuck…” He’s trembling, rocking into my hand. “No.”
And with that, he draws back, forcing me to let go, then grabs me under the thighs and lifts me up.
I squeal, totally unprepared for this sudden change. “What are you doing?”
“Hang on.”
That’s exactly what I do. I wrap myself around him like a starfish, only too aware of his hardness trapped between us, its heat seeping through my panties.
“JJ…”
“One sec.”
His hands hold me up like I weigh nothing. He turns, carrying me over to the kitchen table. Bending his knees, he settles me on it and sweeps off with one hand everything on it. Distantly I hear something crash to the floor—and then he’s pulling down my panties, spreading my legs and bending over me, the head of his cock kissing my entrance.
A long, hot, wet kiss, and my folds part under the insistent pressure, letting him in.
Oh my God. Holy crap. I cling on to him, my back arching over the table, as he slides home, inch by unbearably pleasurable inch. My eyes are falling close as my body shakes, an overdose, but I stubbornly keep them open, needing to see his face.
His dark brows are drawn together, a deep crease between them, and sweat clings to his long lashes in crystal drops as he holds himself still for an endless moment.
Then he draws back, his cock doing a slow drag against my inner walls, only to slam back in.
We both cry out. He lowers himself over me until his face is directly over mine. He captures my mouth, kissing me hard, while he does the withdrawing-and-thrusting-back-inside thing. Again. And again.
He fills me up, possesses me like no one else has. His hard cock inside me burns, stretching me as far as I can go, but it’s good. So good I want to cry. Pleasure of this magnitude should be illegal. A boy so sexy should be outlawed.
A boy so kind.
But he breaks the kiss, lifts up on his hand, doing a reverse push up, thrusting a little bit deeper, a little bit better—and the fleeting thought is swept away in the torrent of pleasure as my body convulses. My core closes in around his cock, tightening like a steel coil, cutting off my breath.
