While I expected this to come up, I hoped it wouldn’t. I didn’t care to be dishonest, no matter what my intentions were for her, but at the same time, I quite enjoyed the anonymity she’d given me. So, with that, I cleared my throat and said, “I’m a flanker.”
“A what?” Laughter filled her words, her voice louder than before.
“I don’t believe you guys have them here in the States.” That wasn’t entirely true; they were just called something else in American football, and the positions weren’t exactly the same, either. “Basically, I do a lot of running around, getting things from point A to point B. Sometimes I have to help defend some of the guys on my team when they’ve got our competition on their backs. We travel a lot, too. It’s nice; I’ve been training for it since I was a kid, so it’s all I really know.”
Rewording my position in rugby was strange. Normally, it was a bragging point. Not only was I part of the greatest rugby team, but I was damn good at what I did. It wasn’t often I had to tell people who I was. Most of the time, they were telling me—Oh shit, you’re Beckett Jones. I never thought I’d find myself in a situation where I’d hide who I was or what I did for a living.
Guess there’s a first time for everything.
“Sounds mysterious, like the CIA or something.”
My smile left my cheeks sore and aching. “Nah, nothing that cool.”
“I take it you’re single?” At least she didn’t keep digging and changed the subject; I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to spin my career any more without either lying or fessing up.
“That’s correct. I can assure you that if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t know what you sound like when you come.” I added that last bit in to make her heat up, even if I couldn’t see the evidence on her face. “I’m just not that kind of guy. Does this mean you’re single, too? Or do I have to worry about your boyfriend—or husband—tracking me down and trying to kill me?”
“Trust me, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Because you’re really good at covering your tracks? Or because you’re not with anyone?”
“I’m not dating anyone.” She must’ve read my mind, because she quickly added, “Nor am I married. My ex left eight months ago, and I’ve been pathetically single ever since.” She tried to make light of it by laughing at herself, though it was clear the subject still bothered her.
And for a reason I couldn’t explain, I wanted to know why. “Does that have anything to do with why you left the show at Bally’s?”
Jen was silent for so long I almost pulled my phone from my pocket to turn on the light, needing to read her expression since I didn’t have her tone or inflection to analyze. But then she shifted in her seat, finally lowering her legs and turning to completely face me. “Yeah.”
“Are you going to tell me about it now?”
Again, she hesitated, and even though I prayed she’d give me what I wanted, she said, “No. I’d rather not ruin our light, fun conversation with my complete and utter heartbreak. I’m sorry.”
With my hands on her thighs, I leaned closer—not too close—and whispered, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Don’t apologize. I was only curious why you’d leave what sounded like the best gig for something you don’t seem so crazy about.”
“What makes you think I’m not crazy about my job here?”
“Well, are you?” Even though she probably couldn’t see me, I cocked my head to the side, daring her to lie to me.
A huffed exhale blew past her lips just as she rested her head against the back of the couch. I preferred her this way; the single, dim bulb high in the ceiling created a twinkle in her eye. It was the first time since we’d moved to the couch that I could gain some sort of visual regarding her demeanor.
“I love dancing, but I think I lost my passion for it when Jason left. I’m pretty sure I could still be on the stage at Bally’s and feel the same, so it’s not the club that’s the problem.” Her voice was flat and lifeless, which left an ache in my chest.
I couldn’t fathom why I’d have such a physical reaction to her pain, other than the possibility that I’d turned what she said into something personal in order to understand her better. I didn’t want to entertain the thought of being on a field and not having that kind of passion, that level of love for the sport, coursing through my veins. For me, at least, it would be like losing a limb, and I wondered if that was how she felt about it, too.
“I lost everything when he left.” It was almost a whisper, as if she’d merely spoke aloud the thoughts that lingered in her mind. And by the way she closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs for a moment, it was clear she didn’t intend for me to hear it.
To put her at ease, and take the pressure off her some, I decided to share a bit of my own story, one I hadn’t spoken about in quite some time. “I was in love once. She was my sister’s best mate. They used to properly annoy the shit out of me, and I’d tease the fuck out of them. But I came home from camp one year and it was like she’d gone from a scraggly teen to a total fitty overnight.”
“I’m assuming a fitty is something good?” At least her inconspicuous giggles had returned.
“It means she was fit. Like how you’d call someone hot a hottie.”
“Oh, so someone who works out all the time and is in good shape? What…was she overweight or something before you left for camp?” She made it too easy to laugh, even while talking about one of the darkest parts of my life.
Jen was the sun—stuck in the middle of a blackout.
“No, not at all. Fit means hot. When I came back, she was a bombshell.”
“Ahhh…” She slowly bobbed her head up and down while elongating the sound of her understanding. “I get it now. Only took you having to spell it out for me, but at least we’re on the same page. Carry on. How old were you? And how old was she?”
“I was seventeen, and she was a year younger. It was right before she went to university, and I just knew if I let her go without kissing her, she’d come home with some bloke, having forgotten all about me.”
Jen rolled her head on the back of the couch to face me. The light from above no longer sparkled in her eyes, but I knew from the static air around me that I had her undivided attention. Especially when she asked, “So…you kissed her?”
“Sure did. We never went a day without speaking after that. And when she finished university, we got married.” I knew I needed to continue, especially after telling her I was single and now admitting I’d gotten married, but my emotions clogged my throat and I needed a moment to clear them away before they took hold of my words.
“Did she leave you, too?” She didn’t allow me enough time to pull myself together before voicing her deeply concerned question. Sympathy drowned her words, making them saturated with the kind of pity I avoided, yet not for the same reasons—Jen didn’t know the whole story.
And I couldn’t find it in me to give it to her. “Yeah. She did. It’s been almost two years now.”
She reached out and touched me, stroking my forearm with the tips of her fingers. The chill of goose bumps covered my entire body, though I wasn’t cold. It seemed her careful, comforting touch had effectively consumed me until all I could think about were her hands and my skin and the electrifying tingles that raced down my spine, spreading to my groin where she’d awaken me once again.
If she kept this up, I’d have no choice but to bury my cock deep inside her with no care as to who might catch us.
CHAPTER 6
Jen
Beckett pulled his arm away to scratch his face, though I couldn’t help but think that was merely an excuse to make me stop touching him, considering he could’ve used his other hand. Then again, I couldn’t blame the guy. Talking about having your heart broken wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac.
I grabbed my unopened bottle of water and twisted off the cap, needing something to do with my hands now that he’d pulled away. I wasn’t thirsty, yet that didn’t stop me
from chugging a third of it without coming up for air.
The bad part of that was the cold water chilled my body temperature from the inside out. Without my sweater to wrap around my chest for an added layer for warmth, I would’ve been shivering, teeth likely chattering as if I were outside in a snowstorm. On the other hand, the good part about being cold was it forced me to curl into the corner of the couch, which allowed me to create even more space between us without making it awkward—like he had.
And as if all my angels were with me, saving me from personal humiliation, another announcement was made near the front of the room. Frankie was a human megaphone. That man didn’t need a microphone or any other apparatus to be heard. One of the bartenders used to joke that Frankie could whisper in an open, packed stadium and still be heard crystal clear. But hey, it seemed that tonight, his thunderous voice worked in our favor.
“Listen up, because I’ll only say this once.” That made me snigger; if he had to repeat himself, then he wasn’t using his voice’s fullest potential. “As of right now, we will be releasing guests of this hotel first in order of the floor you are staying on. Be prepared to show your room keys. And please, do not crowd the doors; in order to get through this in a timely manner so that we all can get where we need to be safely, everyone must remain calm and orderly.”
I glanced at Beckett, regarding the soft shadows on his face as he focused on the announcement. For some reason, I had expected some sort of reaction, though he didn’t seem to give one. Either that, or I just couldn’t see it.
“Since we are on the top floor of the hotel, we will be starting with the higher floors and working our way down. So, if you are a guest at this resort—the Steven Tyler—and you are staying on floors forty through forty-nine, come to the front exits now.”
Beckett shifted on the couch, catching my attention.
“Is that you?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I’m on twenty-three.” He seemed a little off, which could’ve been for any number of reasons, but considering he’d been this way ever since mentioning his wife leaving him, I could only assume it had to do with that. And that was a subject I didn’t care to bring up again. “I was just thinking that this might be a good time to use the toilet. Once my floor is called, it could be a hike, and no one wants to have a full bladder in the middle of a crowded stairwell.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But I’m pretty sure everyone is blocking the restrooms. They’re near the bar, and from what I can tell, most of the club has gathered in that area, either having the same idea or waiting for their number to be called.” I pointed toward the door I’d used to change my clothes. “Use the one backstage. I doubt anyone will stop you, but if they do, tell them I sent you.”
He nodded, though it took him a few moments to get up and head across the stage. His silence bothered me, yet in a way I wasn’t familiar with. Part of me wanted to grab my bag and leave—be it wait with the crowd in the lounge or head to the back with the rest of the crew. His light-hearted demeanor and Don Juan attitude had vanished quicker than a pair of panties in a whorehouse. But on the other hand, there was an obvious reason for it.
It wasn’t like he’d flipped a switch out of the blue like some psychotic serial killer. The man’s heart was broken, and from the looks of it, his ex had completely annihilated it. I could understand why he’d shut down the way he had. I assumed his story was more devastating than mine, and I had a hard time talking about losing everything. He’d more than likely brought up his past as a way to offer me a little reassurance, and in the end, it had backfired in a very painful way.
Then again, this could’ve all been a ploy, and I’d fallen head-first into the trap.
The only thing I could do was wait it out and see what he tried to pull.
Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. After a few minutes in the back, he returned to his spot next to me, still quiet and what seemed to be contemplative. To break the static between us, I asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” He nodded while staring at his feet. “You all right?”
It was an unfortunate moment to smile, but I couldn’t stop my lips from curling. I only hoped he couldn’t hear it in my voice when I said, “No…I actually meant, are you all right. As in, are you okay?”
Maybe I hadn’t been able to successfully keep the smile from my voice, or maybe he’d found the same humor in it that I had, because he exhaled a wave of quiet laughter before reclining against the back of the couch.
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks. Are you?”
Mimicking his relaxed position, I leaned my shoulder into the cushioned backrest while facing him, though I had my knees curled onto the sofa between us and my arms crossed, keeping my sweater wrapped tightly around my front. “I’ll be better once I get the hell out of here.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what everyone up there is thinking, too.” He pointed beyond the stage, in the direction of the lounge, particularly, toward the doors that were heavily guarded by men with thighs the size of my waist. “I wonder when they plan to let you guys out.”
I shrugged, not wanting to think about it. Knowing the club, we’d be the last to leave. And not just the last, but long after the guests were gone. It wouldn’t surprise me if they made us wait until the power came back on—for safety reasons, of course.
“If I had to guess, I’d say sometime tomorrow morning after the sun comes up.”
“They’d really do that?” Surprise lilted his voice.
“I’m sure they’ll need help putting the lounge back together once the power comes back on. Not to mention, there’s at least one stage prop that requires attention, and another that might need cleaning.” I wagged my brows as if he could see.
And then rolled my eyes at myself.
“Plus, you have to remember that we either drove here or were dropped off by someone—I think a few take the bus maybe; I’m not entirely sure. Regardless, none of us live here. We all live away from The Strip, and if this is a citywide blackout, I assume that means traffic signals are down as well. They’d easily use that as an excuse to keep us here long enough to finish clean-up duties.”
He was quiet for a moment, yet I could tell he was deep in thought by the sharp, hasty exhales that clearly hadn’t come from his mouth. In the dark, he sounded like a bull, except not angry, more like contemplative. The noise caused my fingers to tingle with the desire to touch his face. I had a feeling I’d discover the muscles along his forehead tightly pinched, creating profound creases above and between his brows.
“Leave with me. It won’t offer much more than you’ll have here, but at least it’ll keep you from being stuck having to sleep on this couch or in one of the booths. I’m assuming that since they’re letting people out, that means they don’t expect the power to come back anytime soon.” If this was a ploy, he was most convincing.
Then again, serial killers wouldn’t get to “serial” status if they acted like mass murderers.
“Thanks for the offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I thought it was an imposition.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I considered another way to refuse his offer. “I’m just not sure it’d be such a good idea. You know…with our impulsive history and whatnot. I can only imagine how quickly things could get out of hand if we were alone, and if there was a bed instead of a two-person sofa.”
“I understand that, and I respect your decision. I get it, and I agree that it could lead to more than what we’ve done so far. But if that’s your only reason for declining, just know that I won’t make a move. I won’t do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable, and I’ll keep my sex appeal under lock and key. That way, you won’t be tempted to take advantage of me.” His smile sang in his words. “I only offered in case you wanted a place to shower and get some rest while you wait for the power to come back on—or for the sun to rise, whichever comes first.”
Beckett knew how to drive a hard ba
rgain.
And it seemed I was weak when it came to his solicitations.
But that didn’t mean I’d give in that easily. After all, I didn’t want him to know how little effort he had to put in to make me cave. “I don’t know, Beckett. Honestly, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know you. Going to your hotel room doesn’t seem like the best idea—for many reasons, but personal safety being one of them.”
“As much as I wish I could show you that I’m not a bastard, I must say, I like that you’re protecting yourself. It’s good to know you can keep a level head in the city of sin. I can tell you’re one of the good ones, Jen Whatever-your-last-name-is.”
“You’re either an incredibly convincing sociopath, or you’re genuinely a nice guy.”
He laughed—not soft or filled with air or coming out in a huff, but a full-on laugh that was born in his gut and shook the walls of his chest as it erupted. “I can’t say anyone’s ever said that to me before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“Well, it’s true.” I tried to no avail to wipe the smile from my lips or clear away the evidence from my voice. “I’m sure both have very similar traits with completely opposite motivations. And unfortunately, you never see a crazy person’s true motivations until it’s too late.”
“Fair enough. I guess at that point, you’d have to ask yourself how dedicated you are to discovering the truth. In my opinion, a shower and a bed are rather enticing, but I’m not so sure they hold enough value to risk physical or mental harm. Then again, that might depend on how long it’d been since my last shower, and when it was that I last slept in a bed.”
At some point, Beckett had lowered his defenses and come out of hiding, exchanging the sulk for snark, and replacing the distant responses for witty banter. In a weird way, it gave him a child-like quality that made it easy to believe him. There was a genuine gentleness about him that diminished my resistance and called to my trusting nature. Aside from Jason, no one had ever had this effect on me, and while I should’ve remained level-headed and stuck to my guns, I found myself wanting to discover the outcome of his offer. Honestly, I didn’t need to leave the club, and by doing so, I’d likely get an earful from management the next day. But in the end, something inside urged me to let go and be free.
Blackout: A Romance Anthology Page 115
