by J. Daniels
I dropped my head back and pulled in a deep breath, relasing it slowly.
What the fuck were we doing? Pretend this shit didn’t happen? Fuck that. Was she serious?
The door clicked open. I watched Tori hurry inside with a hand full of brown paper towels.
“Here. Sorry. This isn’t the type of place to stock Bounty. These are kinda rough.” She stepped in front of me and held them out. “Better than nothing, I guess.”
I took them, jerking my chin in appreciation. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“No problem,” she replied, clearing her throat and spinning around when I started working at my shorts.
I shook my head, thinking her reaction to possibly seeing my dick now was funny considering she’s seen it already and I just made her come with it. Then remembering how I felt about her suggesting we forget about what just happened, I got the urge to share my feelings while I cleaned myself up.
“Look, Legs—”
“I’m gonna go, I think,” she interrupted.
My head snapped up.
Tori was still facing the door, only I could see one hand was raised. She had her fingers pressing to her lips.
Could she still feel me?
“I just, I’m tired, so I think I’m gonna go home and get some sleep,” she continued.
I narrowed my eyes. Bullshit. She wasn’t tired. If anything I just woke her ass up.
Tori turned her head to the side so I could see her profile. “So bet’s still on. This didn’t mean anything.”
“Right,” I mumbled, looking down and finishing up.
“I’ll tell your sister bye.”
I balled up the paper towels and tossed them on the bench, huffing out breath as I did it.
“Jamie?”
“What?” I barked, tucking my shit away and then standing, zipping up as I met her eyes.
Tori was turned sideways now. She pushed some hair behind her ear and stared at me, looking timid. “Bet’s still on, right?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“Yep,” I answered curtly, tucking my hands into my pockets. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be?”
She nodded. “Right. I figured since, you know, this didn’t count.”
“Already forgot it happened.”
Her eyes seemed to focus in. She pinched her lips together, then she turned away and looked down. “Okay, so I guess I’ll see ya later then?”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Because I knew if I opened my mouth, I’d say shit I shouldn’t be saying, like how I’d just lied and how I wasn’t going to forget. How I didn’t want to. Or worse, how I didn’t want her to.
And admitting that shit would be just like begging.
Tori looked back at me when I didn’t speak, furrowed her brows as if she was thinking hard, and then turned away, shaking her head through an exhale that sounded as exhausted with this bullshit as I was.
She swung the door open again and walked out.
I watched her leave, standing there feeling all kinds of weird shit I didn’t want to be feeling, except for the anger. That I didn’t mind. I understood that. The other shit? No.
Fuck no. I didn’t get any of it.
I waited until I knew Tori would be cleared out and gone before I stepped out myself. I said my good-byes and paid for another round of lap dances to keep Quinn from bitching at me for leaving. Then I strode outside, got to my bike, and took off.
Not heading in Tori’s direction.
Chapter Nine
TORI
I’d lied to Jamie.
Had to. I needed to get out of there.
After dry humping against him like some sex-starved preteen and getting off, really getting off, kissing him, too, which was just as good as I remembered only better since I’d actually participated this time, I knew I couldn’t head back out to the table where Quinn and her friends were sitting and hang there the rest of the night. Jamie would be hanging out.
He had plans on staying, I was sure of it. It was his sister’s birthday. Plus, strip club. Hello. Why would he leave?
And him hanging out meant sharing a table, sitting a foot away from each other, if not inches, and I didn’t think I could handle being that close to Jamie after what we’d just did and how I still felt.
I stood in that room, facing away, while he cleaned himself up, but it was as if I hadn’t moved at all. I could still feel his fingers on my neck and his desperate pressure on my hip. I could hear his growls and smell his skin and his hair still tickled my forehead, his thighs beneath me and the way they tensed, I felt them too, and his mouth.
Touching my lips, he was there. Still.
Jamie was all over me.
I couldn’t stay and have Jamie look at me while I tasted him in my mouth and felt his dick throbbing between my legs, because I would look back. I know I would.
And I would wonder…Do you still feel me, too?
So I lied about being tired, then rushed home and showered under water too hot for my skin because I wanted to feel that long after I was finished instead of everything else.
Skin flushed and warm and muscles loose, I dried off and dressed. It hadn’t worked. I still felt him. His fingerprints and his fevered kisses. The scratch of his stubble. His pounding heart.
They were mine to keep.
But I didn’t want them. Or at least, I shouldn’t want them. Wanting them was terrifying and thoughtless. It was stupid. And I didn’t want to be that girl. Ever. Or at least, not again. I was stupid with Wes. I didn’t see sign after obvious sign of what he was keeping from me—his wife and kid. I was too caught up. And I wouldn’t get caught up with Jamie. I wouldn’t lead myself toward heartbreak again. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Honest.
Jamie McCade wasn’t anything good or right or safe. I was sure of it. He didn’t respect relationships, meaning he was the worst kind of man to build hopes and dreams on because he would look at those hopes and dreams and laugh at you for building them. So I wouldn’t be that girl. I wouldn’t want him.
Only…I totally wanted him.
A little, if I was lying. A lot, if I was being honest.
So okay, I would try not to want him. I could fight it. I was getting good at fighting it. These feelings I had would go away. The echo of tonight would go quiet, and I’d forget how his body felt beneath me.
Another hour and I wouldn’t feel anything. Another two and I’d forget tonight ever happened. The idea seemed promising enough. I was hopeful.
And my house was quiet. Quiet enough to hear the slightest noise coming from outside as I sat knees bent and legs tucked underneath me on the couch with my notepad resting on my thigh and my pen in my hand. I was darkening the “m” on my doodle with a heavy outline when a car door shut, too close to be a neighbor’s or someone parking along the street.
My hand stilled. My eyes lifted, head following a second later. I stared at my bay window.
A knock sounded at the door. My stomach fluttered and warmed all over.
Jamie.
I stood and dropped the notepad and pen on the couch, and my mind, that was left there, too, along with any sense I had in me, then I tucked overgrown bangs behind my ears as I crossed the room with quick, anxious steps.
“Jamie,” I whispered, hand reaching for the knob.
He was here. And I was going to let him in. I wasn’t fighting. I wasn’t thinking.
Clearly…
There was no other explanation for what I was about to do.
Pulse racing, I opened the door and my mouth to greet him, but my “hey” got stuck in my throat and swelled until I choked on it.
I coughed, hand to my chest and eyes wide and watering. The man who took my heart and squeezed the life out of it smiled and braced his forearm on the door frame, angling closer. His deep brown lying eyes did a slow, meaningful appraisal.
“Goddamn, sugar, I’ve missed you,” Wes said, his voice carrying that thick Southern drawl I used to find sweet and endearing as he looked me over.
<
br /> He was still in his work clothes, meaning he most likely hadn’t gone home yet to his beautiful wife and adorable-looking daughter, who I was now very much aware of thanks to our shocking introduction at the mall a couple of months back.
I had been shaking, on the verge of tears or my first panic attack as my boyfriend smiled at his wife and introduced me as an old friend from school. She tried to take my hand, but I couldn’t offer it.
I wanted to die. He had made me the other woman.
I hadn’t seen or talked to Wes since and I had zero plans on doing either one ever again. I hated him. He made me sick.
He broke my heart.
“What are you doing here?” I half questioned, half cried in his face as I stepped closer so he wouldn’t enter. “Get off of my property,” I hissed. “You aren’t welcome here, Wes.”
“Calm down, Tor. I get why you’re upset. I do,” he replied, sounding sincere as he straightened. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I really didn’t want it to go down like that. Honest. That sucked for me.”
“Excuse me?” I snapped. “It sucked for you?”
What a dick!
“Yeah, so I get why you’re pissed right now,” he returned.
“You get nothing.”
Wes stepped closer, trying to move inside, and when I didn’t step back or away to give him room, he sighed and cocked his head. “You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with. Kim was suspicious before. Then meeting you like that? Come on. Why do you think I’ve been staying away? She’s been all over my shit.”
“You have a wife, Wes. She should be all over your shit. It’s hers!”
“Don’t be like that,” he said, looking almost apologetic. “I’ve missed you, sugar. It’s been hell. You know how bad I’ve been wanting to come over here or call? She was even checking my phone. I couldn’t do shit.”
“Don’t call me sugar or anything else you might call your wife,” I snapped, sliding my hand up the side of the door and readying to slam it. “I never would’ve gotten involved with you if I had known you were married. I cannot believe you kept that from me.”
“Fucked you on our second date. If I told you I was married after that, knowing how good that was, would it have mattered?” he questioned.
I flinched, unprepared for that accusation.
“Of course it would’ve mattered,” I shot back. “You’re married. I never would’ve let it happen again. I would’ve ended it.”
“After the sex we had? The way I worked you? Come on.” He tilted his head and breathed a laugh as his arms crossed over his chest. “I took your ass and had you coming so hard you nearly passed out. You told me you’d never been fucked like that before. Is that still true?” His eyebrows lifted.
I pinched my lips together and felt my face burn hot.
“It is, ain’t it?” he asked, smiling darkly. “Probably had plenty of opportunity since I’ve been away but you didn’t take it. Why?”
“Get off of my property,” I snarled, tipping forward.
“You didn’t take it ’cause you’re wanting it from me,” he said, ignoring my command. “No one else. It doesn’t matter I’m married or not, you want it.”
“Leave, Wes.” My voice shook. I felt my lip tremble. “I mean it. You need to leave.”
Wes moved closer, stepping up so he was filling the doorway and our bodies were grazing each other’s. “You want to fuck,” he growled, looking down at me. “That’s what you really want, and you’re in luck, sugar, ’cause that’s exactly what I’m here to do.”
I felt his hand on my hip, squeezing the same spot Jamie had been gripping, and something snapped inside me, breaking me open and bleeding me out.
“LEAVE!” I screamed with tears wetting my cheeks, fists flying and connecting with his chest as I pounded on it and pushed, putting all of my weight behind me. “I hate you, you fucking asshole! Get out! Get out! GET OUT!”
“Jesus. What the fuck?” Wes jerked back onto the porch. “Tori—”
I slammed the door shut and locked it, yelling, “GO! Don’t ever come back here! I don’t ever wanna see you again, you sick fuck!”
“Don’t be like this,” he pleaded, twisting the knob. “Come on, Tor. Seriously.”
“GET OUT OF HERE!”
“Hey. There a problem?”
I heard a man’s voice. It sounded like Tom, my neighbor from next door. He liked to sit on his porch at night and smoke cigars. The smell always bothered his wife.
“No, man. No problem here,” Wes answered, his voice growing softer as if he were stepping away.
“Lotta yelling going on. You sure?”
“Yeah. All good.”
I dropped the side of my head against the door and held my stomach. My throat was burning and my chest was quaking with the breaths I couldn’t seem to hold on to.
A car started, then a door closed. Wes pulled away from my house. I heard the unmistakable sound of his engine revving as he made his way down the street.
He had come here for sex. He was still married and he was still wanting me, and worse, he thought I’d still be wanting him. He thought I was that type of woman.
And he had touched me.
I still felt his hand on my hip. I started feeling Wes everywhere. Everywhere.
I was no longer feeling Jamie.
Hand to my mouth and stomach rolling, I hurried to the kitchen, where I had dumped my purse before taking a shower. I grabbed it and pulled out my keys, slid the strap up my arm to my shoulder, and made for the door, barefoot. I didn’t even bother with shoes.
Tom called out a greeting when I stepped off the porch. He asked if everything was all right.
I lied, saying it was, and waved. I hid my face behind my hair.
I was crying when I got to my car, started it, and backed out of my driveway, but I was sobbing by the time I reached the highway. I couldn’t control it.
I couldn’t feel Jamie. I couldn’t taste him or smell the sun on his skin. I couldn’t remember how he shook.
I felt Wes.
Behind me and beneath me. Between my legs and inside my chest where I’d thought I had pushed him out. But I didn’t. He was still there.
I wanted him out. I wanted to forget.
I would beg to feel anything but him.
My tears stopped when I saw Jamie’s bike and a light on in one of the windows. He was home. He was awake.
I wiped at my face after I parked in the driveway, collecting myself as best as I could before I got out, leaving my purse and tucking my keys into my pocket. I hurried to the door and beat my knuckles on the wood. I wasn’t gentle.
My hand stung, but my hip burned. I could still hear Wes’s voice. “You want to fuck.”
I closed my eyes and bit the tremble in my lip.
The light above me came on. I heard locks being turned and I lowered my hand and opened my eyes a second before the door was swinging open and Jamie was filling it.
He had on blue mesh shorts that hung low and loose, no shirt, had hair that was wet and curling below his ears and eyes that were heavy, like he was tired but couldn’t sleep.
If he had showered, he didn’t shave. His jaw and neck and the skin above his lip were still shadowed. He looked rough.
He looked like sex and secrets.
This was bad. And I needed it.
I stared at his collarbone, his chest, and the muscles indenting beneath it. The patch of hair running from his navel to his waistband and lower. I just stared.
“You want somethin’?” Jamie rasped, elbow bent and anchoring on the frame.
My eyes snapped up. I wet my lips and watched his eyes follow my tongue. They flashed with heat. His nostrils flared.
I lunged at him and he caught me, dragging me up his body and into the house.
“Please,” I begged against his mouth.
He cursed, saying God and Fuck and hauling me closer.
Our tongues met and slid past, dipping and tasting. We kissed hard and w
et. We were sloppy. We didn’t care.
Jamie kicked the door closed and slammed me against it. Hard. He was untamed.
I cried out and begged inside our kiss. Please. Please. Please. Please.
He growled and moaned, Yeah, baby, and Want this, and Need this. Keep beggin’.
Tears filled my eyes. I curled my fingers in his damp hair and pulled until he growled. I dragged my nails up his back and sank them between his ribs.
I wanted this to hurt.
I wanted his touch tattooed on my skin. I wanted to leave marks and bear his desperation tomorrow.
And the next day. And the next…
Jamie dipped his head and sucked on my neck as his hands kneaded my ass. Fingers pinching. Flesh bruising. He caught my skin between his teeth and clamped down.
My breath hitched. I tasted my tears as I opened my mouth and begged.
“Please.”
His hand slid between us and into my shorts. He pushed two fingers inside me and told me this was his.
“Please.”
My voice broke.
I closed my eyes and began to sob.
Jamie tensed with his entire body. “Hey.” His voice was soft and soothing as he leaned away and whispered, “Tori.” His fingers left me, then I felt his hand push strands of hair out of my face. “Babe. What the fuck?” he asked, holding my cheek.
“Don’t,” I choked, shaking my head and blinking away tears. “Don’t stop. Please. Please just, I—I want this. Please keep going.”
“You’re crying.”
“I’m begging!” I screamed, lifting my chin and locking on to his eyes.
Ocean boy blues filled with confusion and concern stared back.
I couldn’t take it.
I tried pulling him closer with my hands on his neck and back, wailing, “I’m begging, okay? You won! This is what you wanted! You wanted me to beg and I’m begging. Please!” I dropped my head and tried leaning into him. I wept harder. “Please don’t stop. Please. Please, Jamie. Please.”
“Tori, fuck! Stop!” he growled, fighting my hold while pressing closer at the same time, but not closer like I wanted him.
His fingers on my face were gentle. Not burning and moving over my body. I wanted to hide.
