by Peak, Renna
She finally looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen. Without saying a word, she brushed her lips across mine before sitting up. Her fingers worked the buttons of my shirt free and she pulled it open to reveal my chest. I knew she loved my chest, my shoulders. I knew it the first time I made love to her so many months ago, the way she licked her lips when she looked at me. The way she felt every muscle, every tendon before kissing me there, tasting my skin.
She looked down at my scar before she touched it, tracing the purple line from just under my right rib around to my back. The look in her eyes told me she wasn’t disgusted by it, not afraid of what she was seeing for the first time. She fingered the line back up and placed a gentle kiss where her finger had been before lifting her gaze to meet mine again without a single word.
I raised my hands to begin unfastening the buttons on her blouse, but she brushed my hands away, instead flicking them open herself. She tossed her top to the floor and kissed my lips again, pressing her mouth hard against mine this time, her tongue tasting my lips.
She pulled away and I reached my hands out to caress her skin, wanting to unhook the bra that covered her magnificent breasts. My cock ached for her, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep from taking control of this situation, making her mine.
Mine. Seeing her like this made the word play on repeat in my head. Mine. She swatted at my hands, grabbing my wrists and pulling them above my head before placing another kiss on my lips. This was the same scene we had played out a hundred times before, only this time, it was her taking control.
Mine. She unfastened the button on her skirt and shimmied out, tossing the fabric to the floor. I kept my arms over my head, enjoying the view, my cock swelling to an almost uncomfortable ramrod stiffness. God, I wanted her. Now. I reached down to unfasten my pants and she grabbed my wrists again. She swung her thigh over me, straddling me, and pulled my hands above my head, placing another all-to-gentle kiss on my lips.
She was trying to kill me. Torture me, maybe. I couldn’t deny enjoying this game, but I had gone too long without her, without anyone. And she was mine. Mine.
She moved her mouth to my neck, kissing down its length until she reached my chest. Her tongue trailed the contours, following every line, every curve. When her tongue flicked across my hard nipple, it almost sent me over the edge.
I reached down and unhooked her bra. I’d had enough of her taking control, and I was going to take what was mine. Mine.
She tossed her bra over the edge of the bed and looked down into my eyes again without a word. I swear to God, the woman could see into my soul.
I reached down to unfasten my pants again, my cock desperate for release from its confines. She reached for my wrist again, pushing my hand out of the way. She moved her hands behind her, blindly unbuttoning my pants and teasing down the zipper without lifting her gaze from mine. I almost came in her hand when her fingers trailed up the length of my still underwear-covered cock.
She swung her leg off of me, stood up and tugged on my pants, assisting me with their removal. She tossed my trousers and boxers to the floor. She stood at the foot of the bed, still silent and almost nude, save the black lace panties she still wore. I could see her drink me in, her gaze moving across my body. Christ, I wanted to be inside of her. Fulfill her every need and desire.
She crawled back onto the bed, moving so slowly I thought for sure I would have to lift her up and flip her over to take what was mine. Her lips finally met mine, and I reached down to remove the last piece of clothing between us. She kicked the panties to the floor, her lips never leaving mine, and she moved her leg over me again, straddling me. Owning me.
She ran her hands down my chest, her gaze moving down, looking at the purple line again before flicking back up to my eyes. Her blue eyes blazed with her desire as I felt her lift herself up, then lower herself onto me, over my cock, filling her. Christ, filling me.
I had to fight to not let my eyes roll back. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and this was the most glorious thing I had ever felt. I moaned as she lowered herself to the base of my erection and I heard her let out a long breath.
“God, Jen. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She lowered her lips to mine as she began to rock against me. And the word that was repeating in my head wasn’t “mine” anymore.
Yours.
* * *
I got up when he finally fell asleep, walking over to the small bar area to get a glass of water. I was starving, too, and I opened the mini-bar and grabbed a package of candy, popping one of the chocolates into my mouth.
There was a time not that long ago when I would have been embarrassed to be prancing naked through a hotel room when he might wake up, might see me in all my glory. But something had happened that day, something amazing and wonderful and transformational… I felt like a real person for the first time in my life. Like a real woman—not a girl anymore.
I watched him sleeping and the look of contentment on his face was enough for me. Enough for now.
I popped another piece of candy in my mouth and sat down at the edge of the bed, setting the rest of the package on the bedside table. I loved that he was here, in my bed again. That I was his and that he was mine. It was all I wanted. All I needed.
I crawled under the covers and nestled against him, breathing him in, and reminded myself that this wasn’t a dream.
My eyes had only just closed and sleep hadn’t quite found me when the most disturbing sound I had ever heard echoed through the hotel room.
The phone rang.
11
Brandon’s eyes flew open and he turned to the ring of his cell phone. He didn’t even look back at me, refused to look me in the eye when he answered it.
Other than saying, “Hello,” the only sounds he made were grunts of agreement during the short conversation.
He snapped the phone off, the color drained from his face. He turned back to face me, and I could see the fear in his eyes. He tried to cover it—tried to cover the weight I could see in his chest, but just the slightest hunch of his shoulders… I knew. I knew this was something that was going to change everything again. That we couldn’t even have one night together, not even one brief moment to cling to.
“I have to go.” He grabbed his shirt from the floor and began fastening the buttons. I watched him grab the rest of his clothing from the floor, from where I had so carelessly tossed his custom-tailored suit. His voice was low, and I could tell he was trying to keep it calm for my benefit. “I’ll come back for you if I can.”
I shook my head and pulled my own clothing from the floor. “I’m coming with you.” I pulled on my underwear, then my bra, fastening the hook and pulling the straps over my shoulders. “Maybe…”
“No, Jen.” His voice was falsely devoid of emotion. I knew he didn’t want me to sense his fear. I knew somewhere inside of myself that he was trying to protect me, trying to be my savior again.
But I didn’t want to be saved. Not this time. If I was with him, maybe it wouldn’t be so dangerous. Maybe the person who called wouldn’t be so brazen if I was there. I knew I didn’t have much in the way of skills to actually protect myself—not unless a couple of kick-boxing classes counted, but he wasn’t going to strand me in this hotel room. I didn’t believe that I was such a huge liability that my coming with him could put him in more danger. I just refused to believe it. I continued putting on my clothes, as quickly as I could
He stood up. “You’ll stay here. I’ll have the front desk call you a cab. I want you to take it all the way back to San Francisco—don’t get on a bus, don’t take a ride from anyone else. Get in the cab and don’t get out until Cade meets you at the door of your apartment building.”
I stood up and turned to face him. “No.”
“No?” He lifted an eyebrow, and if he hadn’t been so worried, I think he might have been amused. “I wasn’t asking, Jen. This is serious.” He grabbed the car keys from the table near the door.
“Stay here until you hear from the desk. Don’t leave this room. Don’t answer the door. I’ll see if they can have someone escort you…”
“I don’t think you heard me, Brandon. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you. You’ll take me with you. I don’t care who it is, or what you’ve done this time, or what business it is that you need to attend to. I’m coming with you, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Jen, as much as I love that you want to find your wings and fly…”
“Bullshit.” I stared him down, refusing to let him talk me out of it. “I’m coming with you. This isn’t about me. This is about you.”
He shook his head and I could see his nostrils flare. I was pissing him off, which wasn’t my intention at all. I just wasn’t going to let him leave me behind again. I had no intention of being left alone to wait and wonder what happened to him. Not again. Not after everything. “It’s not safe.”
“I swear to God, Brandon, if I hear that one more time, I’m going to scream. I’ll punch a hole in the wall. I’ll…”
He walked around the bed and pulled me into his arms. He slid his hands up my sides to cup my cheeks in his palms and bent his head down to look directly into my eyes. “I love you. But you’re right. This isn’t about you. This is about me and the choices I’ve made. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”
I met his stare and raised my hands to his chest. “And how am I supposed to live if something happens to you?”
He dipped his head down and brushed his lips across mine, his tongue trailing across my lower lip as though it was the last time he would ever touch me, taste me.
I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, praying it wasn’t the last time I would touch his soft tresses. I returned his kiss, pressing my lips against his as though I also knew it might be the last time. I finally pulled away and looked back into his eyes. “I’m coming with you. And you can’t stop me.”
The corners of his lips twitched into what almost looked like a tiny grin. “I can stop you, Jen. Just don’t make me do it.”
I stared at his lips for a moment too long, feeling my own turn into the tiniest of smiles. “You can tie me up later, if you want.” I lifted my gaze to meet his. “But I am coming with you.”
He let out a long breath. “Damn it, Jen. You make my life too difficult.”
* * *
He had said to come alone.
If I let her come with me, she could end up dead, I already knew that. Tying her up actually might have been an option—at least it would keep her from following me. But the truth was, I wanted her there. She needed to see it for herself, even if it did put her in danger. And he wouldn’t actually hurt her. I had to believe that. He wouldn’t actually hurt his own daughter.
“Fine.”
She smiled, one of her dazzling, gorgeous smiles that usually made my knees go weak. Hell, it wasn’t as though my knees weren’t still weak from what she had just done to me. Let me do to her.
“But you’ll let me do the talking. And if I tell you to run—for Christ’s sake, Jen, you run. Okay?”
The smile fell from her face as she realized that this wasn’t a game. This was real—this was the same bullshit that had gotten me stabbed, though she probably had no idea about that. Not yet.
We took the elevator to the lobby, and she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t say a single word, just watched me from the corner of her eye. I didn’t say anything to her, either. Most of what was going on was better left unsaid, anyway. As soon as she saw who was behind this, she was going to have plenty to say. I just hoped I’d still be alive to hear it.
Before I left Krystal’s place, before I left the east coast, he had come to visit me. Warn me was a better term for it. He normally didn’t do the warning or the threatening, so I knew I was in deep shit. He usually had his own minions to do that type of thing. I looked over at Jen. She thought I was the one with minions, but her father made me look like I was running a squad of plastic soldiers compared to the army of people he had behind him.
He told me to stay the hell away from his daughter, sure. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t been hearing for the past seven years. He had warned me so many times to stay away from her that it made it almost impossible for me to do just that—even if it would have kept her safe. There had always been something about defying authority that had turned me on, and being with Senator Davis’s daughter turned me on in more ways than one. The fact that I had actually fallen in love with her was almost a moot point now. I wasn’t going to live long enough to see any of it through, anyway.
He had given me a month to finish the job he had given me. A month that was up yesterday—the day I had so stupidly chosen to get shit-faced and take home two co-eds instead of doing what he had asked me to do. And now I was going to pay for it.
Jen was going to pay for it, too, and that was even worse.
Broken #4
The MISTAKEN Series - Part Ten
1
Bad things happen when I stand up for myself.
I couldn’t deny it. Bad things really did happen every time I tried to stand up for myself. I thought back through all the times I had tried to take control of my life. It hadn’t really been that long ago when I’d graduated from high school—when I’d had every music school in the country begging me to attend. And how could I forget what happened when I’d chosen—when I had chosen where I wanted to go. When I’d announced to my parents that I was going to Philadelphia to go to the Curtis Institute of Music and they told me that my music career was over. That I was going to Georgetown and they had someone they wanted me to meet.
I shook my head and pressed my back against the wall of the elevator, staring across at Brandon. His blue eyes were fixed on the floor and he hadn’t lifted his gaze once to look at me. He hadn’t even said a word since I had demanded to join him on whatever “business” this was. Something he obviously saw as dangerous, at least for him. I still couldn’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be as dangerous for him if I was there, too. That maybe whomever it was that he was afraid of—not that he would admit to being afraid—wouldn’t hurt either of us if I was there with him. It was probably immature and childish, but I was so tired of being told how dangerous everything was. How nothing was safe. I just wanted some sense of normalcy, some sense of safety … and staying in that hotel room alone didn’t seem like either of those things.
I thought again about my parents deciding that my arranged marriage to Daniel was more important than my music career. Growing up, I had never been able to see myself doing anything other than playing the piano. It had been the only thing that had brought me any amount of joy, any amount of happiness. When I protested their decision, I found my offers from both Curtis and Julliard rescinded. When I’d complained to my parents that I wanted to be able to make my own decisions in life, I found them all taken away from me. It was the downside of having a powerful father, I guess. I’d stood up for myself that time and the rug was pulled out from under me faster than I could even believe. At the time, I thought that having them take that away from me after eighteen years of it being the only thing was the worst possible thing that could ever happen to me in my life.
I thought their idea of an arranged marriage was going to be horrible, but meeting Daniel wasn’t as awful as I had expected. It wasn’t as great as going to music school would have been, but it wasn’t terrible. He had been kind, at least when we’d first met. His parents had pushed him to marry me just as much as my parents had pushed me to marry him. Things with Daniel hadn’t really been bad until I’d tried to do what I wanted. At least, that was what I still told myself. I had let myself live with the guilt of what I thought he had chosen to do for a long time—thinking he had killed himself because I wanted to leave him to return to the piano. I had been so sure that everything that happened with him was my fault—that it had been hard to let go. It had been hard to let anyone into my life while I lived with that guilt. And
then when I found out that it was all fake—that the guilt I had forced myself to live with was completely unfounded…
The elevator doors finally opened and we walked out to Brandon’s car. He didn’t ask me to drive this time, even though I knew he didn’t have his wallet with him. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe nothing mattered anymore. My body felt heavy and there was just something so hopeless about this moment. I was almost sure Brandon could feel it, too.
He opened the passenger door for me and I got in, buckling my seatbelt. He got behind the wheel and started to drive.
I looked out the window into the darkness, watching the lights as we passed by. That time I had stood up for myself with Daniel still made me feel a huge pang of guilt. Even though his death hadn’t been real, even though he hadn’t really gone out and killed himself—I still felt a little guilty about it. It still made my stomach hurt and it still almost brought tears to my eyes. It had all been fake, but there was a part of me that felt awful about wanting to stand up for myself that time—about wanting to tell him what I needed to do to be happy. And to think that today—today, I had chosen to stand up to my mother. I knew nothing good was going to come from it. Nothing good had ever come from me doing what was best for me.
“How much cash do you have?”
His words jolted me out of my daze and I turned to him, my brows knitting together. “About a hundred dollars. Why?”
He shook his head, staring at the road. “Not on you. Total. At home, wherever. How much cash?”
