“I knew when we got together it couldn’t just be a hook up,” he said. “There was too much at stake. The band, our working relationship. A longtime friendship. I didn’t want to fuck any of that up.”
“Very sensible.” It killed me a little to hear him talk about her. Even though they were no longer together, they had been together, and according to Elle, what they had was real. But I wanted to know. I wanted to know what it took to have a man like Jesse Mayes.
For real.
“So why did you take the risk?”
He sighed again. “She wanted us to. And after a while I thought maybe it would be worth it to give it a try.”
“Lucky her,” I teased. “It is every woman’s dream to have the man she wants ’give it a try’ with her.”
Jesse gave me a dirty look and smacked my bare ass cheek under the sheet, sending a sting of excitement straight to my clit. “Smart ass,” he growled. Then he squeezed my tingling cheek, and I almost forgot what we were talking about.
“The truth is,” he went on, kneading my ass as he spoke, “I spent the last decade listening to the world hypothesize about what a scorching couple Elle and I would make. Sometimes it seemed like everyone thought we should be together. Including Elle. I thought maybe there was something I was missing, and once we were together I’d find out what it was. But that never happened, and after a while I accepted the fact that we weren’t right for each other. But it takes a while to navigate breaking up from someone you care about whose life is so intertwined with yours. I never wanted to hurt her, but I knew I couldn’t stay with her.”
Well. That would explain the way Elle treated me tonight. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t like me. She didn’t even know me.
It was that Jesse had broken her heart.
“People call me a heartbreaker,” he said, as if reading my mind. “I don’t enjoy breaking hearts.”
I got that. I felt it. And I believed him.
In light of what he’d just told me, it even made total sense why he didn’t want a girlfriend.
What better way to avoid breaking hearts than to never let anyone love you in the first place?
Problem was, I did love him, already and completely. And right in the middle of it I was trying to figure out how I was supposed to let him go. I knew this was all coming to an end, soon, and despite the pain that had started creeping in around the edges, making it harder and harder to breathe every time I looked at him, I’d never wanted to kiss him more than I did right now.
So I did.
I put my hand on his cheek, leaned in, and sealed my lips to his. I kissed him, gently, slowly. He kissed me back, his body gradually tensing, his breaths getting heavier as he curled up off the bed to envelop me. He rolled me over, driving me into the mattress with his weight, and I let him. I wanted to be smothered by him. By the feel of his body, hot and strong against me, his smell, his taste as he kissed me until I could barely find breath.
He pulled away and I caught some air. His eyes were hooded with lust, and that sparkle was back in their dark depths. He leaned in to kiss my throat and I sighed. In that moment I would’ve let him do pretty much anything he wanted no matter how much my heart would hurt later. I didn’t care. We still had a week. I’d take what I could get.
“How about some good old missionary sex,” he murmured in my ear. “I hear it’s your favorite position.”
I laughed as he nuzzled into my neck, but whispered back, “I’m not sure it is anymore.”
“No?” He lifted up to look in my eyes, intrigued.
“Well… it’s got competition, anyway.” It was true. As much as I loved Jesse above me, on top of me, pinning me down as he fucked me until I saw stars, I’d come to appreciate various other positions. Especially…
“Show me,” he said, his teeth dragging over his lip.
I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back; he went easily, letting me take the lead. In seconds I had him on his back, pinned beneath me, straddled by my thighs. “I’d say this position has its advantages.” I reached between my legs and grabbed his hard cock, giving him a long, tight stroke.
He groaned and dropped his head back into the pillows. “Such as?”
“Mmm… killer view,” I murmured, leaning down to kiss him. I watched his gorgeous eyes roll closed as I lowered myself onto his cock, taking him inside me in one long, slow thrust.
I was still watching him moments later when his mouth dropped open. His eyes opened, locking on me. I rode him, so slowly at first that it was sweet torture, and gradually faster, harder. I was still watching him when his breath caught, his hands gripping my hips and squeezing me, hard, as he came inside me.
I leaned in and kissed him again, melting against him. Then he flipped us over and went down on me, his unhurried tongue bringing me slowly to orgasm. I was still watching him when I came, my hands buried in his dark hair, with the words running through my head that I wouldn’t let leave my lips.
I love you.
I so fucking love you.
He was still watching me, too.
And if this wasn’t real, if none of this was real, it was going to shred me to pieces.
◊◊◊
“You have the same tattoo,” I whispered, not even sure if Jesse was still awake.
I was curled against him in the dark, my heart still beating faster than normal. I hadn’t yet fully come down from the thrill of getting fucked up against the wall, my legs wrapped around Jesse’s hips, gravity driving me down on his cock... because apparently, when I’d come on his tongue it turned him into a horny beast in need of another round.
He stirred, his fingers coiling in my hair, breath fanning on my neck. “Hmm?”
“Your tattoo.” I skimmed my fingers over the figure on his wrist. “Jessa has the same one, on her ankle. It’s a lot smaller, but I saw it at the club.”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Got them when Mom died.”
My fingers stilled. Then I traced the long lines of the wings that I was pretty sure belonged to a kick-ass, rock ’n’ roll angel. Shit. I didn’t even know what to say.
There was so much about him, about his life, that I didn’t know. So much I still wanted to learn.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were going to meet up with her?”
I waited for the warm plume of his breath on my throat but it didn’t come. Finally, he let it go on a silent sigh. “She asked me not to tell anyone.”
I tightened my grip on his waist. “I don’t mean to pry. But… is everything okay? You seemed upset at dinner.”
“Our mom died nine years ago this week,” he said. “It’s always a hard time for Jessa.”
Oh, man. I had no idea.
I noticed, though, that he didn’t say it was a hard time for him.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. He didn’t say anything, so I ventured on. “Your mom sounds like a really strong woman. She raised you alone, right?” I looked at him but I could barely make out his face. He seemed to be staring straight up at the dark void of the ceiling. “Dolly mentioned it.”
He didn’t respond. I started to wonder if he’d heard me, even though it was dead quiet in the room. I didn’t really know if he was here with me, or somewhere else.
“Yeah,” he finally said, rubbing his hand over his face. “Without Dolly I don’t know where we’d be. When Mom got really sick Jessa pretty much lived with her.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered. “About your mom?” Maybe this wasn’t the kind of conversational territory a fake girlfriend ventured into, but fuck it.
I was more than just his fake girlfriend or his employee, even if he didn’t see it. I, Katie Bloom, was the girl who loved him.
Hell, maybe I was one of many girls who loved him, for all I knew. But I did love him. And maybe it was a bad idea to keep digging for reasons to love him even more, but it wasn’t wrong to be compassionate when he was hurting. I couldn’t stand to just pretend that he wasn’t.
“Sounds like she had a hard life,” I said softly.
“Sometimes I think she kept us at a distance because she couldn’t stand getting hurt again. She never figured out how to trust anyone again or find someone else she could love.”
The way he spoke about her… the words so sad, yet his tone so detached. And after what he’d said about breaking hearts, it made me wonder…
“You’re not like her, you know.” I leaned up on my elbow to look at his face, though I could still barely see him. “You’re not like your mom. Afraid to let anyone in. If that’s what you’re afraid of; turning into her. You’re not her.”
Even though I couldn’t see his eyes I felt the subtle shift as he looked away. “I’m not afraid of turning into my mom, Katie.” He sighed again, and I could feel his pain crackling in that tight breath. “I’m afraid of Jessa turning into our dad. He killed himself when I was nine.”
CHAPTER 33
JESSE
I was out of bed on the razor’s edge of dawn. It was a cool morning so I put on a hoodie and went for a run alone. Jude wouldn’t like it, but I needed some time to think. I’d been doing too much of that lately, probably, but it was harder than fuck to climb up out of this place once I was all down in it.
I hated feeling powerless, but every time I spoke with my sister, that’s exactly how I felt.
My conversation with Jessa last night kept rolling through my head; pretty much the same as every other conversation we’d had in the past nine years.
Before the tour, I’d managed to get some time with her while I was in L.A., and she’d seemed better than she had in a long time. More like her old self.
Then just when things seemed to be going well, like always, she withdrew.
Disappeared.
And as always, I’d skirted around the issue when I saw her last night, afraid if I confronted her about it directly she’d bail and disappear even longer.
I was pretty much running out of shit to say to her. I hated sounding like a nagging broken record. Brody was probably right. Maybe I should talk to a therapist or something and they could help me figure out how to get through to her. Because what I’d been doing for the past nine years wasn’t fucking working.
She still refused to commit to anything.
She still refused to stay in one place longer than a month.
She still refused to come home.
The only thing I was totally sure of was that I had no idea how to talk to her, about any of it. She just kept pretending that everything was fine, and when I pressed, she pulled away.
It was fucking impossible.
I was still going over it in the shower and afterward, over breakfast with Katie. At least she seemed to be doing better than she was yesterday when she showed up at the restaurant, but she still looked tired and on edge, like she hadn’t gotten a good sleep in a week. Which would make two of us.
She was her usual sweet self, but kind of preoccupied, texting with Devi. She tried to bring up what we talked about last night, asking if there was anything she could do to help, but by now I was so wrung out over all of it I just downplayed the whole thing.
“It’s probably not as bad as I made it sound,” I said. “I’ve just always felt responsible for her, you know?”
“But you don’t think she’s happy.” She studied me with her keen blue-greens, her brows pinched together and her pink mouth in a thoughtful pout.
I shrugged and stuffed my mouth with eggs, and when she tried to press the issue, to gently get me to open up, I mumbled something about my imagination and started pretending to read the paper. Like a dick.
She gave me a long, unsure look, then went back to her phone.
“Shit. Have you seen this?”
She handed the phone to me. Her browser was open to an article on some trashy entertainment news website, “news” being a loose term.
There were two images side-by-side at the top of the page, one of Elle and I at the show last night, and one of Katie and I, also from last night. The headline above the images read Bizarre Love Triangle. A larger photo below the first two showed Katie and—
I looked up at her and her eyes went huge. “It’s not what it looks like.”
What it looked like was Katie and her ex-fiancé tongue battling. They were pressed together and he was gripping her by her arms. Their mouths were locked together, eyes closed, but I recognized the red lace dress she’d worn to the VIP party in Vancouver and I knew the image was from that night. It was taken from a high angle in the corner of the otherwise empty hallway where I found them, obviously from a security cam. Which meant that either the douche himself or one of his staff had given the image to the media.
“I know it’s not,” I told her.
“He kissed me,” she insisted. “I pulled away like a millisecond after that was taken.”
I scrolled down through the brief, insubstantial article, which was more images than actual reporting, never mind that most of it was total bullshit. I didn’t even bother reading all of it. The piece pitted Katie and Elle against one another in some non-existent tug-of-war over me, and included more photos of each of them at the club last night, including one of Katie in Zane’s arms, his hand planted on her ass. I knew I had Zane to thank for that shitty move, and I would, but it didn’t make Katie look like a saint. Especially when juxtaposed with the other images.
While I was shown outside the restaurant with my sister, Katie was shown at various clubs the last few nights, partying with my band and even Jack, her brother-in-law. In every picture she was in the arms of another guy. I happened to know all the guys and know the hugs were innocent, but the article made Katie look like some trashy party girl.
The only image that didn’t paint Katie as the town slut was one of her with her brother-in-law and her niece and nephew out walking in the city during their visit. But her sister was conveniently cropped out of the photo, which was right next to another one of Katie and Jack looking cozy as they did shots together in a bar.
When I looked up again, tears were shining in Katie’s eyes. I understood why it would upset her, because this was all new to her. There had been plenty of tabloid stories about Elle and I during our relationship; there still were, even though we weren’t together and I’d barely seen her since the last tour ended. We were together, we weren’t, we were cheating, we were fighting, we were making up. It was all bullshit meant to sell magazines or web clicks for advertisers. But Katie was new at this, and this was probably the first time she’d seen a nasty article putting a vindictive spin on her actions.
“Don’t sweat it, babe.” I handed the phone back to her. “They’ll be onto something else tomorrow. Don’t let it get to you. You know it’s all bullshit.”
She scrolled through the article again. “What the fuck,” she whispered. She turned the phone to me, flashing the image of herself with her family. “My niece and nephew? They’re just little kids. And some creeper put their picture on the internet? With pictures of their auntie looking like the slutbag from hell?”
“That’s what they do.”
She went scrolling through the article, pausing to shake her head at each image. “Fuck. What the fuck. I can’t believe I did all this shit.”
“Come on, Katie. You didn’t do anything—”
“Yeah, obviously I did.” She flashed me the image of her doing shots with her brother-in-law, her hand on his back.
“Well, when you’re not expecting anyone to take your picture—”
“But I should have, right? I should’ve known better by now. A lot better.” She tossed the phone down on the table. “Jack is like my brother. I’ve known him since I was seven.” She put her face in her hands.
“Babe, it’s cool. You’re just ta
king it hard because it’s been an emotional twenty-four hours.”
She peered up at me, her eyes pink-rimmed, but at least no tears were falling. “Try five weeks,” she whispered.
Ouch. That fucking hurt, but I didn’t know what to say. I was so emotionally tapped out from dealing with Jessa. And the tour. And whatever the fuck was happening with Katie that had my guts in a vice when she looked at me that way.
“This is totally my fault,” she said. “Owen and Sadie are in the press and it’s my fault. This pretty much says I’m fucking their dad. Owen is four. Sadie’s six.” She stood. “Which is fucking worse, because she might see this and ask questions.” She started pacing. “Oh my God. I have to call them. What if my sister’s seen this? Of course she has. Devi sent it to me. She probably copied my sister.” She grabbed up the phone and started tapping around. “Fuck.”
Okay. She was freaking out.
I went over to her. “Katie. Look at me. This isn’t as big a deal as you think. Really. This shit happens all the time. You need to grow a thicker skin is all. You’ll get used to it.” She didn’t seem to be listening, still fussing with her phone, but I kept going. “It hurts at first, right? But you’ll see, you get used to it. It’ll just roll off. Don’t let it bring you down.”
She looked up at me, blinking, like she’d just realized I was still here. “I don’t want to get used to this, Jesse.”
“I know. I get that. But… what are you doing?”
She was tapping furiously on her phone. “I’m sending Devi on a diplomatic mission to my sister’s place to tell her, in person, that I didn’t fuck her husband.”
“You really think your sister is going to think that? From a stupid tabloid article?”
“No,” she said. “But it couldn’t hurt to—oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“What?”
She sighed. “Devi’s saying the same thing you are.”
I followed her to the bedroom where she started throwing her things in her suitcase, which made my guts clench in a really fucking awful way.
Dirty Like Me Page 27
