by Lewis, R. J.
My body betrayed my thoughts. It was aching for that release he’d started and was on the way of finishing. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I dug my nails into his back, muttering yes, yes over and over again… My breathing quickened, my groans became louder, and soon I clenched him as much as my strength would allow and felt the warmth of pleasure coat my body from head to toe. He followed after me, thrusting once, twice, and then stalling at his own release. He went limp, breathing hard against my neck. I could feel his heart beats through his chest, and when they eventually slowed down, he moved out of me and lay on his back beside me.
We were shoulder to shoulder, breathing in and out in silence. I didn’t know what I’d expected after this. Maybe I’d hoped, even for the briefest moment, I’d feel that connection again.
Only, I didn’t. It fled somewhere in the midst of our fucking. It was… strange. I felt misplaced, out of sorts… hurt. Yeah, I felt hurt most of all. There was no warmth like there’d always been after sex with Jaxon.
I grabbed the covers and pulled them over me, suddenly ashamed at throwing myself at him like that.
He threw his legs off the bed and sat up with his back against me. I hastily wiped another escaped tear from my eye. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he sat like that with his head straight for seconds that felt like hours.
“You’ve changed,” he finally said, and without a clear shot of his face and the flat tone in his voice, I couldn’t determine what mood he was in.
“Changed how?” I managed out.
“You’ve grown. Body wise anyway.”
I sighed, wearily. “Bigger was the word, wasn’t it?” The question wasn’t malicious; it was actually coated with sadness. Had I become that repulsive to him? Is that why he didn’t want to look at me?
Instead, his answer surprised me.
“Better is what I should have said.” His voice went tight, and I wondered if he was struggling to be nice to me. His shoulders slumped and then a hand raked through his thick hair. “Everything that I said to you the last two days had been said out of anger. I… I didn’t mean a lot of it. There’s just…” He exhaled and shook his head. “Get dressed and have your bags ready. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”
Disappointed at the change of subject, I watched him get up, butt naked, and gather his clothes off the floor. He changed with his back to me, dressed in the same soaked clothing and bloodied top. Even when he was done he didn’t look my way. Decidedly not wanting to be nude around him, I gathered the covers around me and walked to the suitcase in the corner of the room. I grabbed the first things I saw: hobo looking lounge pants and an oversized hoodie. These were my fat clothes I often wore to bed in cold weather. I went to the bathroom and changed, taking an insanely long time because every bit of my body felt tender and sore. My insides felt mashed to bits, and I had to pause to take in a deep breath of air. It was like having knives at the pit of my stomach. Is this what he wanted, for me to feel pain even after our time together?
Looking in the mirror, I shook my head at what I saw: red, puffy eyes, black bags under them, pale cheeks, swollen lips, dark hair that was taking on a mind of its own. I pulled out a hair tie from my purse and gathered my hair up, but then abruptly stopped when I noticed the red mark on the side of my neck. Instantly those pale cheeks went crimson. He marked me. Badly. I leaned in forward to look at the gigantic hickey and ran my fingers over the bump. Were hickeys even meant to be this pronounced? I brought my hair back down, combing through the tangles with my fingers, and set it over my neck.
He was waiting by the door looking down at his cell phone, reading something that had his eyebrows bunched together in heavy thought. He’d grabbed my suit case and set it beside his feet. I felt queasy walking past the bloody puddles on the floor on my way to him. Knowing I was there, he tucked the phone in his pocket, picked up my suit case, opened the door and walked out.
I threw the hood over my head and followed. It was so nice being in dry clothes, but the weather was still having a heart attack, pouring buckets of rain down over the streets. I rushed to his car and jumped in, not caring how filthy I was getting the leather seat (he could afford getting it cleaned) as I brought my legs up and set my knees to my chest. He put my suitcase in the trunk and then took a seat behind the wheel of the car just as his phone started ringing.
“What?” he answered, starting the car. The car roared to life, and I took this opportunity to throw my hands over the vents and soak in the warmth. “No, tell Finley I’ll be there tomorrow.” The name caught my attention. It was the name the bearded man had been mumbling to himself. He hung up, and with a long sigh, started the drive back to his mom’s house.
*****
After an uneasy silent ride there, he parked the car in the garage and I followed him inside. Looking up at a clock on the entrance wall, I saw that it was only quarter to eight. It felt like midnight to me. I was exhausted and desperate for some sleep.
“Mom!” Jaxon called out.
Lucinda appeared out of the hallway and, to my surprise, so did Christy. When I saw her, I looked away. Guilt filled in my chest at what I’d just done with her man. I peeked at him and wondered if he had a similar look, but I only saw irritation.
“Sara!” Lucinda remarked, and then she paused and took in Jaxon’s shirt and her mouth dropped, along with Christy’s. “What on earth happened? Where did you…? Are you both alright?”
“Long story. We’re fine. She needs a place to sleep,” Jaxon said, motioning to me without looking at me. “Give her one of the bedrooms.”
“Of course. Let me just fetch some clean sheets in the cupboard for you, Sara. Give me a minute.” Lucinda hastily turned around and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me awkwardly standing amid an uncomfortable stare down between Jaxon and Christy.
“What are you still doing here?” Jaxon asked rudely.
There was a steady decline in her emotions: joy at seeing him, then hopeful, then confused, and now it was disappointment marring her beautiful features.
“I thought I’d wait for you,” she said quietly.
“I told you to let Josh take you home.”
“I didn’t think you’d take so long.” She glanced at me, but not viciously like I’d have expected from someone whose boyfriend had disappeared with for two hours. “You said you were just going to drop her off.”
I took a hesitant step back, nearing the steps. The awkwardness went to a whole new level at realizing she hadn’t sent him to drive me to the motel after all. He’d decided to on his own.
“As you can see, things happened,” he said gruffly.
I was so confused by his demeanour. Looking back at the way he held her hand the previous night and the smile he’d given her, I thought they were happy together. Yet she was looking at him like she was used to the indifference.
I sighed in relief when Lucinda reappeared with bed sheets in her hand. She looked between Christy and Jaxon, and then shot her son an angry look as she past them and smiled warmly at me. “Follow me, darling.” No problemo!
We climbed the stairs and she led me through a second living area and down a hallway with four bedrooms. She opened the last door and walked in. I paused outside of the door and hastily took my shoes off. The bedroom was carpeted and I didn’t want to leave any messy footprints.
“Jaxon sends a housekeeper once a week,” Lucinda told me, noticing my apprehension. “Don’t worry about making any messes.”
I walked into the giant bedroom that had an ensuite bathroom, walk in closet, large window overlooking the street, and was furnished beautifully with a custom made queen bed, a dresser with a huge squared mirror, and two night stands. It was plain, impersonal, and so evidently a guest room.
I watched her make the bed in silence, thinking only of what might be transpiring downstairs between Jaxon and Christy. Oh, God, what had I done? Jaxon had only meant to comfort me when I cried like a little baby on that bed. I was the one that initiated the w
hole thing. Yeah, but he didn’t back down either, my snotty little mind remarked.
Lucinda looked at me frequently as she set the sheet down and housed the pillows. She was thoughtful and concerned, and I hated that I must have looked like I was so obviously hurting.
“He hasn’t been with her long,” she quietly told me.
“What?” I looked up at her in my guilt to see that she’d stopped the bed-making entirely.
“He’s been with her maybe two weeks. Best record yet since you, though I wouldn’t classify it as a relationship. He doesn’t have relationships. Why do you think I give him death glares every chance I get when he’s around her?” She sighed and walked around the bed and stopped when she was in front of me. Her eyes looked tired, and I imagined she’d had a long rough day of her own having to redo a client’s hair and all.
“Mind you, she’s a great girl. I’ll give her that much, and she really likes him, but she’s not you.”
My breath thinned at the end, and I shook my head. “We’re not–”
“He’s going to want you again. Now that you’re here, he’s not going to let you go. You left him once, and it ruined him.”
I gulped down hard at her words. “I’m sorry I didn’t–”
“You left for reasons that I’m sure made sense, but he’s angry and he’s messed up about it. He’s… been through a lot the last few years, Sara, and he’s changed a lot in that time. I’ve tried really hard to make him right again, but he’s…” Wiping away a sudden tear of her own, she sat on the bed and looked vacantly down at the carpeted floor.
“Look at him,” she continued, hopelessly. “Bad attitude, barely smiles, keeping secrets from me… He comes home with blood on his shirt, and that’s not the first time either.”
“It wasn’t his fault tonight. He saved me,” I blurted out. “I got attacked at the motel by some drunk.”
She looked at me horrified. “I told you that part of town is unsafe–”
“I didn’t think anything would happen to me.”
“That’s always the way, isn’t it? No one ever does, and then they die and wind up dumped in some back alley.” Clearly irritated at me, she shook her head. “Did he kill him?”
The words sent a shock through my system. “I-I don’t know. He sent a guy over.”
She nodded, fully aware and undisturbed by this news. “Well, then, we might as well just assume so.” With a heavy exhale, she stood up and wrapped her arms around me. “As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.” She pulled back and gave me a light kiss on the forehead. “I love you, Sara. Get some rest, okay?”
Too speechless to open my mouth, I just nodded.
Seventeen
After Lucinda left me, I had a long, hot shower. I sat on the tiled ground, letting the water flow endlessly down my body. You’d have thought I’d boycott water altogether after tonight, but having a shower was different. It was a time of reflection for me. I looked fresh when I stepped out even though it was the last thing I felt.
I changed back into my bum clothes, grabbed my phone and crawled into bed, setting it down on the night table. My lids ached from exhaustion, and for once I didn’t have to force myself to stop thinking a million different things before I drifted off into sleep.
*****
The sound of the door creaking open woke me up. I hated being such a light sleeper. I looked at the large figure in the doorway, and blinked again to clear the fogginess. With the light streaming through the doorway, I watched Jaxon set my suitcase down beside my bed. Still inside, he shut the door and walked to the bathroom paying absolutely no attention to me.
He disappeared inside and then I heard the shower start. I rubbed my eyes, waking myself up as I lay there for five minutes wondering why the hell he was showering in what was meant to be my room for the night. The shower went off and a moment later the door swung open. He walked out naked and soaking wet and dived straight into my bed. I jumped to the side, caught off guard by his close proximity.
“What are you doing?” I asked in an unusually high voice.
“Going to sleep,” he answered as he sorted through the covers, yanking some off of me so that he had an equal share of them.
“But… But I’m sleeping in here.”
“You sure are.”
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked over at him. My eyes adjusted in the darkness and I was able to see his face well. His eyes were closed, and he was wriggling a bit, trying to find a comfortable position against the pillow, resting finally with his back against the mattress and an arm over his face.
“Why are you in here?”
“I’m trying to sleep, Sara. It’s late.”
“I’m aware that you’re trying to sleep, Jaxon, but why are you sleeping here with me?”
“I have a preference for this room. It…soothes me.” I didn’t have to see the grin on his face to know what a crock of bullshit that was.
“Fine. I’ll go sleep somewhere else.” I barely made it an inch before his hand gripped my arm tightly. I looked over at him, and his eyes were opened and trained on me. There was a look that even in the darkness made my heart beat faster. Where did he learn to be so intimidating?
“No,” he said firmly, “you’ll stay here.”
I didn’t reply. I looked away from him, removed – quite forcefully –my arm from his grip and turned to my side, back against him. I grabbed the cell phone from the night table and looked at the time. I’d been asleep for two hours and it felt like two seconds, and though I was still tired, I was extremely aware of his presence and it filled me with a mixture of feelings: excited at being so close to him; confused as to why he wanted to sleep with me literally; angry that he could be so demanding and that I so willingly obeyed; and fear because there were new parts of him that were dark and unpredictable.
I could hear his steady breathing, and every slight movement he made on the bed. I couldn’t sleep now that he was so close. This is what I dreamed about, wasn’t it? Only reality was a whole other thing, high lighting what a naïve person I’d been to think that the world had somehow frozen in Jaxon’s life and that he hadn’t changed. I mean, I had changed completely. Why didn’t I think he might have, too?
Lucinda’s words chilled me to the bone. How could she be so casual about it, asking me if her son had killed a man? I mean… had he killed others? Was I sleeping next to a murderer? Fuck, this was too freaky for me. I wished I was in the safety of Winthrop, in bed with Daniel instead, only caring about the food I’d eat the next day and what flick I wanted to see at the movies. Those used to be my pathetically simple dilemmas in life.
Exhaling unsteadily, I opened my mouth and whispered, “Did you kill him?” I regretted saying it right away, mainly for what it would mean if he answered yes.
I felt a little movement from his side, and I imagined him looking at me. Or maybe he was glaring, who the hell knew with this Jaxon nowadays? The glare seemed to be his look.
“Why do you want to know?” His voice was surprisingly soft.
“Because I want to know.”
“What would you get out of knowing, Sara?”
“I’d understand a little bit about you.” How badly you’ve changed. What you’re capable of. But I didn’t say those things out loud.
This made him quiet for a moment. Then he said, “What would you have done to a guy who was about to rape and murder a defenceless person?”
“Call the cops.”
He chuckled louder this time. “You don’t know the good ol’ law system in Gosnells. Cops are as crooked as the criminals on the street, babe.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Yeah, okay…babe.”
I turned my body around to face him. Yep, he was wearing his glare, and I half expected him to shoot venom at me out of those sexy ass lips of his.
“Did you kill him?” I asked again, determined to get the answer out of him. I propped myself up on one elbow and stared down at him.
/>
He looked at me, half amused, half annoyed. “No, I didn’t.”
Not wanting to be taken for an idiot, I said, “I’m sure you didn’t, but did you have him killed?”
He sighed and shook his head. “No.”
I studied him for a long moment, waiting for something to slip in that face of his. If he was lying, he didn’t show it.
“Are you a thug?”
He burst out laughing, but I didn’t allow that to make me feel silly. I remained serious, waiting patiently for him to calm down and answer the question.
“No,” he finally said. “I’m not a thug.”
“What do you do?”
“I own a few businesses around town.”
“What businesses?”
“Why don’t I show you tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “I’m busy tomorrow. I’ve got my dead mother’s house to sort through, and then I’ve got to go back home. So why not just tell me what businesses you own?”
He twisted his lips, and propped himself up on his elbow too so that we were face to face barely a foot away. “So you won’t let me show you while you’re here?”
“No.”
“Then I guess you’ll never know.”
Irritated by his cockiness, I turned away and settled myself back down on the far end of the mattress. I heard him chuckle to himself.
I hated how smug he was being, but I wanted to talk to him more. I was addicted to his voice, and breathing the same air as him, and feeling the pool of warmth he was helping to create beneath the covers – I couldn’t focus on sleep. I felt that ache again, an ache that could only be satiated by his touch. I tightly squeezed my thighs together, not wanting to get too carried away by my thoughts. Yet when I stopped thinking, the images flashed before my eyes; his tattoo, the broad shoulders near my face straining when he thrust into me, the sounds he made, the painful kisses he gave me, and the fullness I felt of him inside of me. Fuck, I hate this.
I was grouchy now that I was horny as hell and couldn’t do a thing about it. No way in hell would I initiate anything again, and if he initiated it? Well, tough for him. I wasn’t going to be used like a tissue and discarded the second the show was over. I felt him repeatedly move around behind me, as if he too was restless. Yet neither of us said another word, nor made any sneaky movements that had us drawing anywhere nearer to one another in search of that satiation.
