by Mara White
The stream of commuters slows as the cars begin to empty. I hear the distinct lilt of Dominicans speaking in Spanish. It a sentimental place that the sound guides me to, one still filled with longing. Then the owners of those voices come filing through, joking loudly, sometimes jabbing at each other. They’re in low-slung jeans and white tank tops, sneakers and fancy watches—standard fare for your average corner boy from the Heights. One young man grabs the horizontal pole, bends his knees, and shows off with some spontaneous pull-ups. They’re still meandering through— one, two, three, four, five. Six, seven, eight of them are in here with me. A familiar longing starts brewing. Then the last young man walks confidently through the door.
He’s velvet mocha, all well-defined muscles, gorgeous cheekbones, and the lightest of honeyed, amber eyes.
None other than. The one and only. Jaylee Inoa.
And coming right after him is a girl, her peach-manicured fingernails gripping firmly to his arm. The door slides open fully, then bounces closed behind her with a double slam. Janinie.
What does one do when trapped underground with an ex-lover and his angry little sister?
“Hey guys,” is apparently the best thing to say. It rolls out easily and doesn’t feel forced. It addresses the situation honestly.
“Oh, great. It’s her,” Janinie says, her voice dripping with disgust.
“What are you doing?” Jaylee asks, his brow taking on concern.
“Same as you,” I reply. “Evacuating.”
Janine rolls her eyes as exaggeratedly as she possibly can and stomps toward the pack of rapidly retreating young men.
“You coming?” Jaylee asks me, putting his back up against a pole. He bends one leg up, folds his arms, and appears to be in complete control of himself.
“I’ll wait,” I say cautiously. “Are you out causing trouble?”
“Naw, not a chance. I’m taking Janinie to look at schools. My grandma told me about the account you set up for her college.”
“Her test scores are high—she can get in somewhere good. She’s a smart girl, that one, even if she’s a brat,” I say with a little smile, nodding at the door she left through.
“And Ada and Pearl?” Jaylee says, his face brightening with the mention of their names.
“Good. At camp. Getting bigger. Pearl is too brainy, always stuck in her head and, well, you know Ada, totally crazy.”
“Robert?” Jaylee asks, and I look up surprised.
I shouldn’t have done it. It was a mistake. I looked into his eyes and now I can’t think. I remind myself that his beautiful eyes are filled with treachery. For Jaylee this has just been an exchange: an eye for an eye. His involvement with me is only a small part of his retaliation. And now he has the nerve to ask me about Robert, when he probably talks to him more than I even do.
I blink, and a single, rebel tear falls out onto my knee. I just shake my head. I’ve got no answer to that question.
I don’t know if Jaylee knows how much I know. I don’t know if he feels remorse or regrets anything that’s happened. But our eye contact, at least, is real. The energy between us ignites something ferocious. It’s impossible not to address it.
“Jaylee, just tell me when it happened—when you figured out who I was.” His face falls. He looks uncomfortable but not at all threatened.
This connection that moves between us is like a living, breathing force. Jaylee drops to his knees in front of me and places his hands on my thighs. I would love to look anywhere else but I can only look into his eyes.
“The first night at your house. You put the girls to bed, I picked up the phone. I saw his name, checked your photos. From there on out, I knew.”
I only nod at him. I can’t think of anything to say. The revelation doesn’t reduce the pain—nor does it loosen the attachment between us. I can’t fucking stop loving Jaylee. I can’t stop it, even if want to.
An alarm starts to sound at an ear-shattering pitch, then the emergency lights come on, blinking angrily.
“Is it terrorism, you think?” he asks, a sly grin taking his face. He puts pressure on the sweet grip he has on my thighs.
I shake my head and grin back at him, placing my hands on top of his. It still feels so natural, no matter how long we’ve been apart. His touch is like coming home, stepping in the front door of the house I was always meant to live in—the house of my dreams.
“Armageddon, maybe?” he asks raising a brow. The entire train rocks with the departure of passengers as their weight leaves the last car. He’s pulling me toward him like a ship to its harbor. It’s too late to turn around or to work against the current’s momentum.
I shake my head “no” again and lean into his face.
“Are we gonna die?” he whispers as he gently captures my chin. His mouth is so close to mine, I’m a millimeter from bliss.
“I hope so,” I say as I kiss him back with devotion.
Chapter 19
One more day with Jaylee will have to be enough for me to convince him. We’re not getting back together—we’re not rekindling anything. This is it. It’s over, but it will end my way. I will secure his safety, his complete immunity—even if it means I lose him permanently. I don’t forgive Jaylee for lying to me, but I can’t blame him for falling in love with the one person you’re not supposed to. I did the same. I know what if feels like.
If it’s a job the federal government has come in on, it’s got to be big. Either Jaylee gives them what they want, or they put him away and forget him. Robert may be his lawyer, but he’s not really on Jaylee’s side. I want him out before the whole thing comes down. The feds can use their absolute power to get another informant. When that happens, and it will, Jaylee will go to jail with the rest of them. Playing their game is the only thing that will save him. He hasn’t got a choice.
What I’m about to ask of him goes against everything he knows. But I’d like to think our chance encounter yesterday was a sign from above. I call Jaylee. I ask to see him. I tell Robert I’m going.
When I call, Jaylee demands that we go to some stupid house party in the Heights. He’s completely cavalier; he doesn’t know my intentions. His reasoning is that he has to show his face and let everyone know he’s back out. He thinks we should be seen together instead of hiding at home like we’re scared. I drum my fingers on the kitchen table, trying to decide how to approach this.
“I want to be alone with you.”
“I promise that can happen too.”
“What if I don’t want to be seen at any parties?”
“Why don’t you come over and we can get ready at my place.”
I change into a skirt and camisole, hoping for privacy over parties or dealing with his family.
Jaylee is completely focused on his neighborhood; these interactions and relationships are his way of life. It seems like he‘s ignoring the gravity of the federal case surrounding him. He has no idea how powerless he is in this: he either bends to them or they snatch away his life. I’ve got very little room for maneuvering myself, but I’ll try to convince him that we can win his freedom and safety—and that he’s not going to beat them.
The moon is full in the sky tonight as I make my way up Broadway toward his house. The streets are alive with summer squatters, whole families taking up the sidewalks. They’ve retreated outside to lawn chairs to avoid the stifling indoor heat. There’s a bit of a breeze in the air, but nothing can cool the fire inside of me.
He’s waiting on the front stoop of his building for me with his hands in his pockets. A sly, sexy grin appears as soon as he sees me. He hops down the last step and throws his arms around me, scooping me up. Here in his arms is exactly where I was meant to be.
But what I don’t plan on is how quickly I fall right back into needing him desperately, loving him, and wanting to please him. I revel in the enjoyment of being with him—of him just being. I’m happy to watch him move around his apartment, to see how his body moves under his clothes. Jail hasn’t cost him
his confidence. He stalks around the room with the grace of a leopard, and bosses around his friends during a few calls he makes.
Then his attention turns to me, and I’m scared to have it. His intensity is daunting, like a storm—there’s no telling which way this could go.
“Do you want to have sex?” he asks, already pulling his shirt off as he says it. As If my answer couldn’t possibly be “no.”
Jaylee, to me, isn’t only another man or a lover, he’s the only person to ever understand me completely. To be understood, to finally feel that I belong, is the sweet soul seduction I have no more power to refuse than I do to control my own heart.
He comes over to stand right in front of me. I’m perched nervously on the end of the bed. He pulls my bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb, as his golden eyes sink into me.
“I can’t even fucking see straight when I’m looking at you. All I can think about is getting inside you, make you go crazy ‘til you making those sexy noises and that face when you come.”
He presses his thumb deeper into my mouth, applying a gentle pressure to my tongue. I’ve got no to choice but to open my mouth more and allow him in. He sits on the bed and pulls my mouth into a savage kiss.
We shower together in the cramped bathroom, with old-school bachata blasting from a well-loved boom box on a shelf behind the toilet. We connect effortlessly, as if no time has passed between us. We are instantly lovers, best friends, co-conspirators. He kisses me ferociously as the hot water melts away my remaining doubt.
“I want to shave your pussy,” he says, with a glimmer of playfulness.
“Why?”
“Cause it’s mine and I can do what I want with it.” He laughs as I look at him incredulously. Then he turns, shuts the water off, and grabs the razor and a bar of bath soap.
He faces me, and a huge, cocky smile plays on his face.
“Oh my God, you’re really going to do it?” His hand moves behind my head and he pulls me close to him, his lips grazing my cheek softly.
“I want you to trust me, Kate.”
Having Jaylee shave me is the weirdest sensation ever, and has us both giggling like idiots before we’ve even gotten started. I’m terrified of him slicing me but I love his confidence and determination in the simplest and silliest task.
We‘re all smiles and soap suds, body parts slipping and sliding over one another, licking, kissing, hesitantly caressing. I can’t even pretend that I had an agenda, I’ve practically forgotten what I came here to do. Jaylee’s warmth melds with the hot water, the music, and the inhaled steam. I’m high on love and reconciliation, the throaty sound of his voice, his light but husky laugh. I can’t believe that he’s here—we’re together—that I’m actually touching him. I can feel his heart, the one that I love, beating rapturously in his chest.
He hands me a bottle of something called Lemisol when he’s finally satisfied with the shaving job. The soap, he claims, is specifically for washing lady parts. I tell him that it’s all the same and purposefully dump the palmful of it directly onto my head. He tackles me against the wall and presses his slick, hard body up against mine. Again we are sliding and giggling, pawing at one another until the heat between us is no longer for fun but morphs into something dire. Touch becomes necessity. Our kisses become open-mouthed and wet, mimicking the same silken slip of our fevered sex.
“I want to be inside you,” he says with a husky breath. His teeth skim down my neck and shoulder and he gently bites as he licks the water from my flesh.
I’m trembling with desire as I grab his strong shoulders and press the entire length of my body into his. His erection swells against my newly shaved pussy, and the skin-to-skin sensation is almost more intimate than sex. I feel like I’m on the verge of an emotional orgasm, as if my mind might peak and explode. An orgasm from love, as if I could come from the center of my soul.
His touch is an elixir; his breath in my ear is a sweet whisper of the divine. It’s the only thing I need to hear.
Jaylee’s penetration almost undoes me. I could come from just being filled up with his hard cock inside me, without the need of a single thrust. He rocks his hips forward, fucking me deeply. His hand goes under my thigh to lift my leg up, and I brace myself with my foot on the rim of the tub.
Jaylee and I are made of light: loving him feels like a breathtaking ascent, happiness inflated to the absolute brink. I blossom continuously, opening centers of my heart I didn’t even realize I possessed. I’m untouchable in this state; I have no fear of dying, no fear of anything. I’m made of only buoyancy and overwhelming sensation. My universe is centered perfectly in the satiny, wet, suction of his tongue. The loneliness that constantly follows me dissolves into memory at this man’s feet. I think our two lonelinesses know each other, and one without the other has become incomplete.
“When did you become such a gentle lover?”
His eyes flash to mine darkly; he knits his brow.
“You taught me, Negra, don’t tell me you don’t remember?”
“But before, you never touched me like this.”
“I told you. Whatever you need. I’m your man,” he tells me, his chest against my chest. One of his hands cradles my ass, while the other grasps the underside of my slippery thigh.
When Jaylee’s hands are on me, it’s as if no other man has ever touched me. He undoes every other mark that’s been made on my body with a single pass of his hand. His finger tracings ignite pathways of devotion, a silent Braille that speaks only to me and directly to my heart. Being with Jaylee feels so right that it’s sacred; everything that came before him must have been wrong. If I have somehow doubted his dedication, the answer is clear in his gentle adoration of my body.
“I’m sorry I lost the baby, Jaylee.” It’s something I have to say.
He pulls my forehead to his and closes his eyes. He massages the back of my neck and rolls his head back and forth against mine.
“Kate,” he whispers my name. A name that sounds different to me when it rolls off of his tongue. I’m a different person when I’m with him. I’m who I’m supposed to be.
But I know I will have to give this up and find happiness in just knowing he exists. Without me.
My eyes already see him through the loss ahead of us. His eyes are so full of hope it’s heartbreaking. We see different futures, and so we feel this moment differently, despite our intertwined bodies. From what I know of my lover, it’s impossible to tell him no. Our love is the one thing he truly believes in—how can I ever tell him otherwise?
Then his arms wrap around me, holding me so tightly that I become the one who could never let go. I could marry a million Roberts, and I could fuck a thousand Ideals, but one man speaks to my innermost self, only one man steals my soul.
I take renewed delight in his gorgeous body. How the contour of muscles in his arms and chest move as he touches me, the hard, wet slip of them against my flesh. The Devil himself designed Jaylee’s body to tempt me.
I think at some point we might both be crying, but sadness and bliss have become indistinguishable from one another, because there just aren’t any names for feelings this deep. We’ve bled for one another—all that we’ve suffered we pour into a final, searing, heart-stopping, kiss.
I’ve been on the brink of orgasm since he entered me and his thrusts have dragged me to a dangerous peak. His mouth covering mine makes lava flow through me and a quick pinch of my nipple makes me scream.
“I can’t hold on anymore. I’m going to come,” I plead with him.
“Do it. Come for me, baby,” he says into my ear as he slides two slick fingers inside my ass. I drop off the cliff: he’s pushed me off the edge, and I’m falling and spinning, beautifully out of control. I can feel him spasm and jerk inside me as he too succumbs to bliss.
We relax into each other’s arms and slide down the wall together, ending in a pile of limbs sprawled out in the tub. He sucks and teases my hardened nipple as I try to pull my numbed brain back in my
head.
We wrap ourselves together in a towel, strong with the scent of fabric softener, and cuddle. How I ever thought I could survive without this man is such deep denial, such a fantasy of independence I only wish I possessed.
I need Jaylee like plants need water. Without him, I’m truly alone. Fighting for him isn’t a righteous sacrifice—it’s mere survival. It’s compulsory, like breathing, like death, like the melting of snow.
He’s standing by the closet naked, pulling on jeans and looking at shirts. I watch him like a voyeur, knowing that soon I’ll walk away and let him go. Not because love is fleeting, or because I’m older, or because we’re different. We are more alike than anyone could ever know. But Jaylee’s freedom simply means more to me than having him does. Once again, we’re together to say goodbye, but this time, poor sweet Jaylee doesn’t even know. How do you say goodbye to the one man who makes you whole?
Even with what Robert has told me, I believe fully in Jaylee’s love. His love for me is innocent. I can see it in his face. I can feel the truth down to the solid center of my bones. It shouldn’t matter what he knew and when.
I lie down on his grandmother’s bed and let the towel fall. I gaze upon my own treasonous body that steals pleasure to hide from pain. I just let him love me, and now I have to let him go.
If I could give Jaylee a reason to hate me, maybe that would help him to break free.
“Will Ideal be there? Has he come out of hiding?” I ask, afraid to bring it up, but determined to help him part from me.
Jaylee visibly winces at the name.
Why, I wonder, is possession so intricately sewn into romantic love? Can’t I have you without having you? Ideal is my friend—just a friend. Jaylee is my one and only love.
But it looks like Ideal is the answer, the wedge to finally drive us apart.
“Yeah, I heard he’s around. He’ll probably be there,” he says.
