While unintentional, those words were like a sword through my heart. Jaxxon wasn’t intentionally hurtful. It was a fact, he was acknowledging it, and he was right. I wouldn’t stay. The cold slap of my selfishness, blindsided me like a right hook.
Normal . . . Who had I been kidding? He deserved someone who could actually sleep beside him at night without making him bleed. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to be with him, how much I loved him. It didn’t matter that he already owned my heart.
I blinked quickly, trying not to let the threatening tears loose and ruin what had been a perfect night. I sat up quickly, his arm falling behind me as I scooted to the edge of the couch. Seconds turned to minutes as I sat there, legs pressed tight together, wringing my hands. I stared at the gift as if it were a serpent. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the palm-sized box.
The soft, smooth velvet felt like a caress against the palms of my hands—a silky, beautiful, heartbreaking caress.
Playing with the lip of the box, I squeezed my eyelids shut and popped the lid.
When I opened my eyes, my breath caught in my throat. Tears poured down my face in uncontrolled streams. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t speak. I almost dropped the box from my trembling hands.
“You—you designed this.” It was too unique to be duplicated.
“Yeah, but a friend made it for me. I’m good, but not that good. My design, his construction.” His warm voice beside me held a hint of humor I wasn’t feeling.
At first glance, every color on the spectrum appeared to be represented, but on closer inspection, vibrant oranges, fiery reds, and warm yellows dominated the handcrafted pendant, giving it the illusion of being both on fire and alive at the same time. Vividly alive.
Holding the box upright in my left hand, the heavy black script of my tattoo sprawled across my peripheral vision. Die and rise—just like the myth of the Phoenix.
I dropped the box back on the table and pressed my hands over my face to stop from shaking my head as some sort of mania kicked in hard.
Sobs wracked my frame. Jaxxon’s arm came around my back and I stiffened to stay where I was, forcing him to pull me to his side.
“Why . . . ” I choked out. “Why a phoenix?”
“Valentina,” he said. “Hey, hey. Hey, baby. Look at me.”
I shook my head harder. “Why?”
Dr. Rhodes had said I reminded her of a phoenix. I never understood the connection. In theory, I got what she meant, but I never believed it, especially the rising part. I battled. I existed. Not sure I ever actually rose from the ashes of my past, so the phoenix disturbed me.
He wrapped his large hands around my biceps and hauled me onto his lap. “Move your hands, sugar. Come on.”
He shackled my wrists, but I stubbornly kept my hands over my face.
I was too exposed, too vulnerable. If I stayed longer, I’d be unable to fight this pressure about to burst through every pore, this compulsion to unload everything, show him everything, to burden him with all of it, but then to have to watch the pity stain the way he looked at me, watch my past destroy what we’d become . . . I refused to do that to him or to us.
With a small yank, he pulled my arms out in front of me, palms up.
I kept my eyes down, refusing to look at him. If I did, I wouldn’t do the right thing.
“This.” He ran his hand over my tattoo, right over the thickest part of the script, over the lifted, damaged, sewn-together skin. “This is why a phoenix. You cover the tattoo. Like you’re ashamed of it, when you shouldn’t be. Look, baby. I don’t know what the hell you went through. But after that night, I saw the extent to which it still torments you. That tattoo . . . the words you had permanently engraved into your skin . . . there’s a reason you chose those words that I think you’ve forgotten. You came back.”
“Stop! Jaxx—please—you don’t know what you’re talking about.” That night . . . That night . . . His words. Over and over and over in my head. I dropped my chin to my chest at the ripping sensation ricocheting from left to right.
Something inside me broke.
My muscles jumped, quaked. Perspiration beaded my forehead. I wrenched my arms back and fisted the T-shirt I was wearing, rubbing it up and down my chest with both hands.
Maneuvering me so I straddled his thighs, he wrapped his hands around both wrists and tugged my hands to his chest. “Valentina, look at me. Right now.”
His tone was unyielding, leaving me no choice but to raise my eyes. The second our gazes connected, my shoulders collapsed and I dropped my head, but he flattened a hand just under my throat and pushed my head back up. “What are you so fucking afraid of? Is it not clear to you? Whatever happened didn’t break you. You came back stronger.”
Stronger?
I jerked away from him, but he wrapped his hands around my thighs, keeping me on his lap. “Stronger?” I hissed. “Stronger!”
Adrenaline pumped, built, and had no outlet. I felt like a feral animal, trapped.
“I can’t stay with you! You can’t sleep with me. Jesus Christ—” I dug the heels of both palms into my forehead. “Look what happened. Is that what you want? Me, waking in violent rages, so lost, so tormented, I can’t decipher the present from the past? No, Jaxx. You don’t. You said it yourself, you hate drama. My baggage?” I scoffed. “‘Drama’ doesn’t come close to describing it. My shit is black fucking tar, etched so deep in my psyche, it’s a part of me—who I am. It’s not going away. This is my problem. Not yours. You don’t need that in your life.”
I lunged off of him, but he was too fast, grabbing my shoulders and, holding me in place.
The color drained from his gorgeous face and his eyes lost all traces of green, instead turning a bright amber I’d only seen the one time at Lowe’s. Tension pumped across his chest as his muscles pulsed and contracted, stretching his shirt tight.
“Baby.” The edginess of that single word, usually said as a loving endearment, now came across as a warning. “Do not make assumptions about what I need or what I want unless it’s your ass in my fucking bed. If that’s not it, you need to talk to me. No more dodges.”
“No.”
“Jesus fucking Christ! Do you think that little of me?”
“I think the world of you.”
“The fuck you do,” he thundered.
I slammed both hands against his cheeks, locking my eyes to his. I dug my fingers into the back of his head. “Oh no, love. No bullshit. I won’t do this to you.”
His hands mirrored mine on my face. “That’s my fucking choice. Not yours.”
My eyes hurt from jumping back and forth between his. He was serious. Could he not see the problem with this? With us? He was thinking immediate, right now, when I knew the future for him if he stayed was paved with problems he didn’t need. In which case, telling him about my past was irrelevant. There was only one way to make him see.
Tightening my grip on his head, I pulled his face a little closer. “Jaxxon. Think for a second. Think.” I squeezed again, willing him to hear me. “Over time, if you and I make it. If I can work through what I deal with, what happens then? The nightmares aren’t going away. What if we’re living together and your children are over when I have one? What you saw is fucking mild compared to other nights I’ve had. Tell me, how are you going to explain to Leah that your girlfriend frightened your children to death, waking them up in the middle of the night screaming, crying, puking? To Kyle barking in the dead of night? No.” I shook my head and pushed off of him. “I won’t do that to you.”
As I backed up, he stood up from the couch, towering over me. “First,” he said as he stalked toward me. “You’re way ahead here, baby. And let me be clear, I’m not pissed about you bringing my children into this, because I know your heart’s in the right place. I don’t doubt for a fuckin’ second you fear that scenario more than you do me seeing what you go through. However, you will leave them out of this, because this is between us. You’re overreacting and side-st
epping the real problem—you trusting me.”
When he stepped within arm’s distance, I shuffled around his table. I grabbed my bag from the chair, hauled the strap over my head, and backed up to the stairs.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Listen, hon . . . I’m trying hard not to get heated, so I need you to tell me what’s really going on, and I mean like fuckin’ yesterday.”
I missed my window.
I should have run. I should have bolted out the door, out of his life when I had the chance. Instead, I stared up at his chiseled, bearded face, his hazel eyes laced with not only anger, but if I wasn’t wrong, a genuine concern that fractured my heart.
The muscles convulsing inside my chest, the sharp spasms racking my lungs, and the rapid slamming of that small organ against my rib cage had to be why people used the expression “broke my heart.” But it wasn’t strong enough. My heart wasn’t breaking. It was dying.
I swallowed the first sob. It shook my body as he reached me.
His hands settled on my shoulders and his voice came out soft, but firm. “Relax for a second, baby. Jesus Christ, breathe. Don’t run. Tell me what I’m missing.” He moved a hand to my cheek and I pressed into his touch, tears falling over the top of his hand.
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled. I clutched at his hand, bringing it to my mouth and kissing his open palm, before settling it between my breasts over my heart. “I want you to be happy.”
The hand I’d been holding shot up around the nape of my neck and he pulled me into a hard embrace, locking one arm around my back, the other around my waist. The tension in his grip was so strong the energy raging through him jumped to me.
“Fuck, baby. Settle down. You make me happy. Have you somehow missed that over the past months? Have you missed that somewhere over the past fucking months, I’ve fallen in love with you, and I know you love me too, so you don’t have to say it. I know it. ” He dug his thumbs into my scalp as he held my head. When our eyes met, he roared, shook his head, and moved closer to me. “Christ . . . Don’t bail on this. I can see it in your fucking eyes.”
One more second. Just let me stay with him for one more second . . .
I exhaled and wedged my arms between us, slamming both my palms against his chest. “I—I have to go.”
Ducking under his arm, I spun toward the hallway. I got up the steps and almost to the door when his huge body pinned mine against the door from behind. He interlocked his fingers with mine, keeping me caged between him and the door. Every hard inch of him pressed against some part of my body.
Despite the past that had come back to haunt me and my failed marriage, I’d never thought of myself as terminally fucked up.
I knew I wasn’t normal. I desperately wanted to be, but there was a darkness I couldn’t escape, which had this second become crystal clear. I was unlovable. Not because I was a bad person or anything, but because I could never be in a regular relationship. I was broken that way.
But when he pushed me up against the oak door so hard my head spun, the breath pushing out of my lungs from the impact, and my body responded to the pain with a jolt of anticipation . . . I realized damaged didn’t cover it. I was fucked up in an irreparable way, because I’d never wanted anyone as bad as I did Jaxxon just then. What did that make me? Broken.
All I wanted in that moment was his body buried deep inside mine—even if it were only one last time and it would torment me for the rest of my life. I didn’t give a shit. My heart and my love were dead the second I walked out of here, because they both belonged to him. And because I loved him, I’d let him go.
His lips trailed up my neck, ending at my ear. He stretched our locked hands high above my head. “Jesus, Valentina . . . Tell me I wasn’t fucking wrong about you. You are not this weak.” The words were soft, but the steel behind them shot straight through me and shattered what was left of my heart. “Are you leaving me?”
“Yes,” I choked out, the side of my face plastered against the wooden door.
His hips dug into mine, the length of his cock pressed between my ass cheeks. Anger and loss had become living, breathing energies—dangerous for the both of us. For him, because he couldn’t understand why I’d leave when he knew I loved him. For me, because I did love him and wouldn’t complicate his life with my past. I’d been selfish long enough.
“If you’re fucking leaving, tell me why.” His voice was clipped in a way I hadn’t heard before. He was shutting down.
I tugged and wrenched my hands out of his, then forced myself around between his big body and the door to glare up at him. “I’m broken, Jaxxon! Not normal. There, you want to hear me say it? See behind the wall? Break me down. I’m. Fucking. Broken. I can’t have a normal relationship. Ever. Look how I am with you! The things I want with you—I shouldn’t crave . . . this.” I motioned between us with one hand. “I shouldn’t crave you the way I do when I know I can’t be with you long-term.” I shook my head hard. “It was wrong of me. Selfish!”
He leaned into me, and son of a bitch, if I didn’t melt right back into him. “It was one fucking night. You think one bad night would scare me off? I’m not that man. And what the hell do you mean you shouldn’t want the things you want with me? What part of our sex life shouldn’t you want or enjoy? You’re ashamed because you want me? You talk about being normal—that’s normal, whatever the fuck that means. I’ll take different over normal all day long. You’re not a bad person because you have a fucked up past or needs as a woman. Goddamn it. Trust me enough to tell me why you’re doing this or tell me you don’t love me. Tell me that and I’ll let you walk. Done.”
The one thing I couldn’t do. And he knew it. It would be so easy. Four little words. The easy out for the both of us. I could sever it. Give him closure, and then it would just be me who had to deal with this pain.
And I’d survived worse . . .
His warm lips skimmed the shell of my ear until he bit down hard on my earlobe.
I slammed my head back into the door, letting the pain ground me.
“You can’t say it, but you can’t deny it, can you?” He dropped his head to my shoulder and put his mouth to my ear. “At least you didn’t lie to me.”
The moan was out before I could stop it, and it was all he needed. He pulled back enough to rip my bag over my head and drop it to the floor. His hands shackled my biceps and he leaned down so his eyes met mine. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
I wept as he dropped to his knees.
I almost fell over as he yanked my pants and underwear down my legs, leaving both pooled around one foot. The doorknob helped keep me upright. His fingers dug into my right thigh, right over my scar, and he hauled it over his shoulder. The second his tongue licked up my cleft, I ripped the hat off his head and shoved my hands through his hair, holding his face to me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have wanted this. Maybe this made me even more fucked up, but his hot tongue lapping at me at this maddening pace, or his heavy cock deep inside me, were the only time I’d ever experienced any sort of peace or sense of belonging.
Just one more time.
The second he worked two fingers inside me and sucked my clit into his mouth, my hips pushed into him, the tension in my legs peaking and dissipating to the point I’d have fallen if his arm hadn’t crossed up over my chest. Bright lights danced behind my eyelids as my hungry body clutched at his fingers. I’d never come that quick. Not even with him.
He stood, lifting me with him on his way up until he reached his full height. Somewhere between kneeling and standing, he’d managed to get his shorts down. He held me up under the arms and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Lifting me higher against the door, he pulled one of my throbbing nipples into his mouth and sucked hard through the material of my shirt. He lapped at the swollen bud until I groaned, then bit down as he wedged one hand between us to pinch the lips of my pussy around his cock, making a tighter fit as he slid his thick h
ead back and forth over my clit, rocking me into sharper spasms.
I gasped with each slide of his soft head over my saturated core, until he slashed his mouth across mine in a punishing kiss. As if we both knew this was the last time we’d be together, we clung to each other. His lips caressed and sucked mine in a thorough, loving rhythm one minute, only to plunge his tongue deep and hungry between them the next. With my back up against the door, it took little effort for him to hold me the way he wanted me.
He pressed his forehead against mine, both our hands now buried in each other’s hair. “Look at me,” he hissed against my mouth. As soon as our eyes met, he pressed inside me slow and hard without stopping until he was seated to the hilt, and we both cried out at his tight invasion. Where he normally gave me a minute to adjust to his size, now he didn’t.
Our eyes stayed locked the entire time. He took his time pulling out, but slid back in harder than the last. He kept up the tortuous pace, holding my head still, his eyes locked to mine. In and out, he dragged himself through my tight channel, hitting my G-spot with each upward thrust. There was no space between us. Pressed so tight together, with each penetration, his pelvis hit my clit in just the right angle that my oversensitive body raged back to life, craving the release he alone was in complete control of.
He never moved faster, even when I begged him to. His movements became harder, deeper, but never faster.
The harder he pushed inside me, the more swollen I became. I needed to come, but didn’t want the sweet torture to end, knowing I’d relive this moment over and over. Without letting up, he leaned back, his face less than an inch from mine. I untangled my hands from his hair and framed his face, watching different emotions flicker across his handsome features.
“Don’t do this,” he said, in a low tortured voice. “Stay with me, sugar.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d started out hating that endearment, but he only used it when we were intimate, and now it was like hearing my name on his lips, beautiful . . . yet now heartbreaking. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him as close as I could get him, burying my face in his neck.
Phoenix (Flames & Ashes Book 1) Page 35
