by Peak, Renna
“Do you want to trade me seats, sweetie?” The woman next to me piped up right after I touched the paint brush to the paper.
“No, I’m fine here.” Barely a stroke on the paper, and it was already a mess. I slammed the brush against the table and took a deep breath through my nose. I rubbed at the back of my neck.
“I think she was talking to me. And, yes, if you wouldn’t mind. Jen and I are old friends.”
My head lolled back and I stared at the ceiling while the woman gathered her things. Why now? Why tonight?
She bent down and whispered into my ear before she headed across the room. “He looks like a keeper, sweetie.”
I lifted my head and turned to face her with a tight smile and nod. I dropped my forehead into my hands as soon as she got up, rubbing at my temples.
Brandon took the seat at the table next to me. He moved his chair closer to mine, close enough for his thigh to touch mine. He slipped on his reading glasses and clipped the paper he’d been working on to the easel in front of him. He picked up his brush and continued working on his painting, clearly getting the technique we were working on more easily than I ever would.
I lifted my head and finally turned to face him. “What are you doing?” I tried to hide the annoyance I was feeling from my voice, but I wasn’t very successful.
He looked over his glasses at me. He had the whole sexy professor thing going on that he knew made me crazy. Just the sound of his voice made me tingle in places that weren’t appropriate for an art class. “I’m painting.” He glanced over at my paper and looked back at me. “I guess we can’t say the same for you.” His eyes crinkled from the closed-mouth grin that came to his face before he turned back to his own artwork.
My lip curled up into a tiny sneer. “Don’t make fun of me.” It wasn’t like what he was saying was untrue or anything. Whatever it was in front of me, it wasn’t art, that was for sure.
He didn’t look back over at me. “I would never even think to do that, Jen.” He looked over his glasses at the projector screen that the instructor was using to demonstrate, then went back to work on his painting. He nudged me a little with his leg and slid his chair over the last few centimeters that had separated us, making the hairs on my arms stand on end again.
Electrical pulses raced through me. Tight coils of heat pulsed in my core and my breath caught in my throat at his touch. I hated myself in that moment for my response to him. I hated that he seemed to know exactly what to do to set my body on fire. He had too much power over me, I was sure of that.
“So are you going to tell me?” His leg nudged into mine again, sending another inappropriate thrill racing through me.
I dropped my voice to a hush, not wanting any of our classmates to hear what I was sure was his idea of foreplay. I couldn’t look at him. Not without wanting to jump on his lap. “Tell you what?”
I could still see him from the corner of my eye, turning to face me, tilting his head.
I saw him look over his glasses and I couldn’t help but turn to face him.
“About your audition?” He raised his eyebrows, hopeful.
“Oh.” I turned back to my easel and picked up my brush. I licked my lips and pressed them together. “I thought you already knew.” I looked up at the projector, determined not to let him read my disappointment in my failure.
“How would I already know? I had to leave—I had…” He turned back to his own easel, clearing his throat. “I had business this afternoon.”
My eyes darted to him. “Business” was code, I knew that much. I tipped my head to the side. “What kind of business?”
He turned back to face me, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me? You got in, right?” His tiny, hopeful smile made my chest hurt again.
My face fell and I turned back to my easel, putting my brush to the paper. My attempt at painting a flower looked more like a bloody gash on the paper. I didn’t even respond to the question. I could not let him see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to know the depths of my disappointment, especially not Brandon.
He turned back to his easel, chewing his lips. “I’m sorry, Jen. Do you want me to make any calls?”
“No.” I was a little too short with him, but anything else and I would have melted into a puddle of tears. I didn’t need his help; I’d failed on my own. I looked at the paper clipped to my easel. My field of red flowers now looked more like a scene from a horror movie than a beautiful garden. Maybe it was appropriate.
“Well, it’s their loss, right? I mean, I know you were amazing. You are amazing.”
I pressed my lips into a line, trying desperately not to lose it. No one was going to see me cry that night. No one. I stared straight ahead, trying to do the same technique as the instructor. If I looked at Brandon, I knew I’d cry. I wasn’t going to let it happen. I hadn’t even really wanted to get into the school. It had been a surprise audition, out of the blue. I had to keep telling myself that, had to stay in control.
“If you want me to find out what happened, I can make a few calls. I don’t mind.”
“No, thanks.” My response came out almost like a croaking frog. “I already know what happened.” I tried to focus on my painting, but it was becoming more difficult by the second. I cleared my throat. My knee began to bounce up and down. I put one hand on my leg to try to stop it.
“What happened?” He nudged me again with his thigh.
I tried to ignore the effect he had on me. Just feeling his leg against mine made me want to have him take me right there. It was so strange, being so unbearably aroused by him, so disappointed with myself and still almost scared about what had happened in the restaurant. I knew I wouldn’t be able to suppress the emotions for much longer. And ignoring his leg was turning into an impossible task, but it was the easiest variable to control at that moment. I slid my chair a few inches away, just far enough so that he wasn’t touching me anymore. I let out a little sigh of relief, the ungodly attraction I had to him abating just a little.
“Jen, talk to me.” He reached over to touch my shoulder.
Just that little touch sent another round of electricity pulsing down my arm. I couldn’t even look at him. I just shook my head, trying to twist away from his touch.
“Jen, just tell me what’s going on. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it just about the audition?” He pulled his hand away from me, resting it in his lap.
I licked at my lips, my voice shaking, almost trembling by that point. I could barely speak above a whisper. “Daniel.”
He turned in his chair to face me. “What do you mean, ‘Daniel’?”
My hands went clammy and I put down my brush. I felt the color drain from my cheeks and I still couldn’t face him. “He was here.”
“What are you saying? What does ‘he was here’ mean?” He pulled his glasses off and set them on the table.
“Here. In San Fran. Mel and I were at dinner and he showed up.” I licked at my lips again before glancing over at him. “He did something. He kept me from getting in.” I looked back to the front of the class to try to watch what was happening on the projector. I could feel the tears starting to cloud my eyes. I clenched my jaw together to try to force them away.
“You should have called me. I would have been there in ten minutes.”
I couldn’t turn to face him. I balled my hands into fists then clenched them together in my lap. He wouldn’t see me cry. Not tonight. My voice quivered with my response. “You can’t rescue me from everything.”
“I’m not trying to rescue you, Jen. I just want you to be safe.” I could see him working his jaw from the corner of my eye. “Where was your guard? Your security people?”
I lifted my shoulders in a little shrug. I swallowed at the dry lump in my throat and let out a shaky breath. I picked my paintbrush back up and dabbed at the paper in front of me, not really even paying attention to what I was doing.
“They aren’t here now, are they? You ditched them again?” He shook his head.
“Jen…”
I shook my head, refusing to answer. I didn’t know where they were. I might have ditched them, but it wasn’t like I was trying to this time. I hadn't done it on purpose.
He sat back in his seat and drew in a breath through his teeth. He picked up his brush. “Jen, I know he freaked you out, but you need to know, he can’t hurt you. There’s nothing he can do to you.”
“He knows.” I said it so matter-of-factly that I startled myself. Hot tears came rushing back to my eyes. I squeezed my hands into fists, digging at my palms with my fingernails to try to force them back.
He turned back to face me. “What do you mean?”
I bit my bottom lip to try to stop the quivering. “I mean Mel told him. About you and me.” I finally turned to face him, pressing my lips together to quiet the shaking of my bottom lip and chin. “I’m more afraid for you, Brandon. I don’t know what he’s going to do.”
He shook his head and turned back to face the front of the class. “He can’t do anything. He doesn’t have any power. Just being in the States, he’s putting his life in danger. He knows that.” He shrugged. “He’s powerless and desperate. Desperate men do stupid things.”
My voice dropped to another whisper. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He reached his hand over to touch my back, rubbing between my shoulder blades. He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “We’ll be fine, Jen. He can’t do anything to us.” He dropped his head and kissed my shoulder. “Okay?”
I nodded, keeping my eyes firmly placed on the instructor at the front of the room. My brain wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that we would be fine, that we’d have our happily ever after. But my gut told me otherwise.
4
I don’t know what I was thinking, just being there with him was making me even crazier than I had felt before. I was such a raw mix of emotions from everything that had happened that day. Having Brandon there wasn’t making it better—it was making it much, much worse.
I set my brush down and cleaned up my space. I unclipped the thick paper that had served as my canvas for that evening’s class and stood up from my seat. I didn’t even look over at Brandon. I just took my painting and walked out of the classroom door, chucking my painting in the trash next to the doorway as I left.
I walked toward the restrooms. I needed to wash the paint from my hands and I thought splashing some cool water on my face might help keep the tears at bay that I knew would fall as soon as I had to face Brandon.
He followed me. On some level, I knew he would. I’d just hoped he would have waited for me outside. Instead, I heard the bathroom door latch after I walked in, and I knew he was behind me.
I turned to face him, the tears I’d been holding in all day pooling in my eyes. I dropped my shoulders. “What are you doing?”
His gaze raked over me. I couldn’t read what was behind his eyes. Anger, maybe. Hurt. I didn’t know. “Why are you running away from me?”
I shook my head. “I just need to think. I just need some space to think.”
He twisted his lips around. “Do you want to know what I think, Jen?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I think you think too much.”
I couldn’t hold them back any longer. Once the first tear streaked down my face, the rest were quick to follow suit.
He crossed the room in a step and had me in his arms even more quickly. I buried my head in his chest, trying not to sob. It felt like my entire life was falling apart at my feet and I was powerless to stop it.
He held me until the tears stopped, just stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head as I cried into his t-shirt in the middle of the bathroom. When I finally pulled my head away, he brushed my tears away with his thumb, kissing each cheek after he did. “Better?”
I sniffled a little and nodded. I felt stupid for crying, just an emotional wreck. “I’m sorry.” I could barely even croak out the whisper.
He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, Jen. It’s been a rough few weeks. You should have let it out before.”
I let out a bit of a laugh. “I don’t like to lose control. So I am sorry for that.”
The shake of his head was only barely noticeable. A small smile came to his lips and he stared into my eyes for an uncomfortable moment too long.
I broke the gaze and looked down at the floor, almost embarrassed at the way he was looking at me. “What?”
He stroked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His voice lowered to a hush. “You’re so beautiful.”
I felt my cheeks burn in response and I shook my head. There was nothing beautiful about losing control of myself, of my emotions. Nothing at all.
He pulled me into another embrace and whispered into my ear. “I wish you could see what I see.” He turned me around to face away from him, to look into the mirror above the granite counter top of the sink area. He pulled the hair tie from my hair and swept my hair over to one shoulder. He set his chin on the other side, gazing into my eyes through the mirror. “Look at yourself.”
I looked. All I saw was a blotchy-faced, wreck of a girl who could hardly call herself a woman. Someone who was too naive to even see what had been going on around her all along, her entire life a shambles. More tears burned behind my eyes. I pressed my lips together, determined to hold the tears back this time. I couldn’t lift my voice above a whisper. I shook my head. “You’re wrong. You don’t know me.”
“I’m not wrong. I wish you could see what I see. See the woman I see.” He stared into my eyes through the mirror, pinning me in his gaze. “You’re amazing in every way.” He turned his head and kissed my temple. “Smart.”
My knees went weak when he bent to kiss that perfect spot on my neck, right below my ear. The one he seemed to know would make me melt. My neck bowed in response and he deepened his kiss.
He pulled his lips away for only a moment. “So smart.” He pulled the neck of my t-shirt over to bare my shoulder and he kissed the top of my bra strap. “Funny. Damned funny.” He rained kisses across my shoulder, then moved back to my neck, back to that spot.
I bowed my neck again, almost begging him to continue at that spot. I let out a little moan when his lips found it again, thick waves of heat pulsing from my core.
He only kissed me long enough to make me long for him again when he pulled away. “Talented.” He threaded his fingers through mine, lifting them one at a time to his lips. “These fingers. Magic.”
He wrapped our arms around my waist, not letting my hands go. His lips found that spot on my neck again and another whimper escaped my lips. My knees weakened and my body sank against his.
His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, supporting my weight as my head lolled against his shoulder, begging for his touch.
“And so beautiful. So amazingly, un-fucking-believably beautiful.” He let go of my hands and spun me back around to face him, never letting go of my waist. His blue eyes met my soul. “You have no idea what you do to me, Jenna Davis. No idea at all.”
I was lost in him already. There was nothing I wouldn’t give him, nothing he couldn’t have.
My breath hitched in my chest as I felt his hands slide around the waistband to the button of my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping with a flick of his wrists. His hands moved up, under my t-shirt, sliding up to graze against the sides of my breasts. He had my shirt over my head before I even knew what had happened. I kicked my sandals to the floor.
He dipped his head to kiss my collarbone and I had to take half a step back to lean against the counter, my knees already starting to buckle. He held the small of my back and lifted me to the counter, removing my jeans and panties in the process.
I ran my hands under his shirt, feeling every muscle, every tendon as my hands slid along his perfect abdomen, up to his even more perfect chest. His scent was perfect, making me lose my sensibilities.
He removed his lips from my skin for only a moment to let me get his shirt over his head. His head bowed again, finding my lips this time. His ton
gue found mine, claiming me with the heat of his desire. His hands slid up to cup the sides of my breasts, his thumbs grazing over the taut buds that were bound by my bra.
Heat pooled between my legs and I wanted him like I’d never wanted him before. He pressed against my middle and I could feel his desire, even through his jeans that still covered it. My hands slid from his chest, back down to his jeans, determined to have him, desperate to have him inside of me.
He caught my wrists with one hand, the other still teasing at my nipple. I pulled my lips from his when he caught the hard peak between his thumb and forefinger in a tight pinch. I gasped in surprise, my lips forming an o-shape, before returning my lips to his. His kiss deepened with a hunger, almost a desperate need to claim me.
I wrestled my wrists free from his grip, my own desperation welling inside me. Heat coiled in my middle and I felt an aching need to have him deep inside of me. I wrapped my legs around his, pulling him closer to me, grinding my middle against him. My fingers finally found the button and release the waistband of his pants. My hands slid to push his pants down.
His hand pulled me closer to him by the small of my back, his other pushing his pants just far enough out of the way to release his rock hard, pulsing cock. His hands slid around to hold me by my waist again, angling my hips. He took his lips from mine, choosing instead to focus on that spot below my ear, that not-so-secret spot that he knew would send me flying over the edge in a matter of mere moments.
He pulled me to the edge of the counter and slid into my slick opening in one perfect, fluid motion. A loud moan escaped my lips and my legs tightened around his waist, pulling him impossibly deep inside me.
