by Claire, Ava
His passion meant a lot to me and I felt honored that he wanted to give me a piece of history, a piece of his grandma, but Alicia had been pretty clear about her feelings about Jacob marrying me. “Your mother just isn’t on board, Jacob.”
When I looked at him I had second thoughts about stating the obvious.
"She's going to give it to me," he said, his tone low and dangerous. I've never asked her for a damn thing. And this is important to me."
I cupped his cheek, trying to diffuse the situation. "I would love nothing more than to wear that ring. To respect the memories that come with it and create new ones." I bit my lip, hating that his mother had controlled him all of his life and still had power over this situation too. "But I don't think Alicia is budging."
The stubborn glare in his eyes didn't dim. "She will. She has to. Because my grandmother did more than love me, Leila. She saved me."
I figured he was speaking figuratively, but the way his jaw trembled with emotion, I wasn't so sure. "What do you mean?"
A long, pregnant silence hung on the air and I dropped my hand to the couch. He was looking past me and I could tell from the way his eyes darkened that he was about to share a painful memory.
"I'd spent my summer with Nan and my grandfather and she'd just gotten off the phone. My mother was on her way. I had been gone for two months and barely a word from her or my father. And I just couldn't. I couldn't get into that limo. I couldn't go back to that house, to that life. I knew it was changing me.” He gestured around the room. “I was noticing things around this place. How worn everything was. How small. How dated. And I felt horrible about myself. About who I was becoming.” He stopped, his nostrils flaring as emotion raced across his face. “So I took my grandfather’s gun and decided I was gonna end everything."
****
My mouth fell open. "Jacob..." I didn't know what else to say. Suicide? Jacob almost killed himself? Even though I knew that the story had a happy ending, my heart was racing. My mouth was bone dry.
"There was no fence back then," he continued, not looking at me. "Just this knee high grass as far as the eye could see that my grandfather was too tired to mow. How long did they have? They'd leave me and I'd have nothing. I'd just have my mother...and I'd be as miserable as my father.
So I sat down, the rifle trembling in my hands. It wasn’t a bulky thing but it felt heavy. So goddamn heavy. And then I heard the crunch behind me. I tried to hide the rifle, but I knew she'd seen it. That was the worst part—looking into her big brown eyes and seeing that she knew.” He paused, the pain of it as fresh on his face as if it were yesterday instead of years ago. “You know what she said to me? 'I'm not gonna be here forever, Jacob. To keep you honest and make sure you know that you are loved. To tell you that as bad as things may seem, they'll get better. And you'll be better. You have to believe it. You're gonna set the world on fire someday—and don't let anyone, ever, turn your light off.'
I didn't even realize I had a hand covering my mouth until tears splashed onto my skin, meeting the wall and going no further.
"She held out her hand and I gave her the gun,” he continued. “Her other one helped me from the ground. She put it back in their bedroom then called me in the kitchen to help her make dinner." His eyes shot over to me, and I didn't miss the sheen of emotion before he glanced away. "If it hadn't been for that accident, some drunk redneck t-boning them one night after they left a late movie, she would have given me the ring herself. She would have met you and known that I loved you and wanted to give you the world—and some diamond that took up half your hand," he said with a small chuckle. "And Nan would have reminded me that love was about more than money."
He brought a shaky hand to my cheeks, wiping away my tears. "She saved me once, Leila—but you saved me too. You showed me that it was okay to let you in. That it was okay to love someone."
He tipped my chin and I spread into his lips. Feeling his embrace. Wanting and needing nothing else. I knew it was cliché, that a kiss could be so earth shatteringly amazing that it took your breath away, but I was dizzy, my head spinning from his confession and the power of the kiss he pressed on my lips. I remembered that cafe back in Venice, snorting 'poor little rich boy' when Allegra talked about Jacob's pain. How clueless I'd been; naive to think that his childhood just made him guarded. It broke him.
But eyes closed, lips parted, tasting him, feeling Jacob—I saw a man that was putting the pieces back together. A man that loved me so much that I was ashamed I'd ever questioned it.
His arms roped around my waist and he pulled me tight against him. The kiss was still sweet, imploring, but he pulled me to my feet and those hands had already flipped the page and were focusing on another four letter word—lust.
My heart hammered in my chest as the buttons of my blouse were freed, the zipper of my skirt yanked downward. He reclaimed my mouth and my tongue darted between his lips. My eyes flew open when my brazen action sunk in, not knowing what he needed, but from the tight swell I felt against my lower abdomen, I had a feeling he would give no complaints.
Still I stood there, my bra the only clothing keeping me from being completely nude. His eyes drank in my body before his blue eyes settled on my obedient gaze, arms locked behind my back, hooded eyes staring from behind dark curls.
"You would submit to me?" he asked, visibly shocked.
The word ‘submit’ sent a flash slicing through me and I felt my answer slicking my naked lips. "Absolutely."
"For me?" The surprise in his voice. Like he'd expected his revelation to change something.
I brought my hands up, my fingertips stroking the perfect line of his jaw. "For us."
"Lay." It was a groan. A plea and I saw in his eyes the consuming love he never thought he'd have or deserve burning bright.
And then it stilled, the deliciously powerful gleam returning.
He grabbed my wrist, and quicker than I could say 'holy crap' he'd spun me around and pushed me up against the door. My chest was smashed against the wood. Pinned—for the second time in one night.
The angle of the arm he still held was odd. Disorienting. It wasn't painful, but I knew if I tried to reposition myself or pull from his grasp, all bets were off.
His other hand cupped my bare bottom, squeezing it. He was clearly still in a teasing mood as well. He’d tug the globes apart, spreading me and sending cool air to my heated flesh, and just as I felt lust seeping, sure he’d touch me there, he'd release me.
"I can smell your arousal," he said huskily. Both hands released me and my arms hung like limp spaghetti noodles at my side. Of course he could smell me. I wanted him so bad that I shook, my core leaking desire that coated my inner thigh.
I sucked in a breath as he moved back in, his erection snug against the curve of my bottom.
"Is this what you want?"
"Yes," I whispered hoarsely. My brain was tapioca pudding, but I realized my mistake as soon as he reached around and took my arms, holding them above my head. Jacob didn't like whispers. He liked moans. He liked to hear me scream.
He pushed his groin against me again, rocking into me, giving me a taste of what was to come.
"I can’t hear you, Leila." His hands gripped my shoulders.
"Yes," I said, louder, with an edge that made him dig his fingertips into me. The warmth of pain seeped in with the need.
Just the way I liked it.
"Tell me what you want."
I tried to lick my lips but my body was flush against the door and all I could taste was dust and the bitterness of the old wood. The clock was ticking. The quicker I answered, the quicker I'd feel him.
I turned my head slightly, not wanting my words to be muffled. "I want you inside me." I added fuel to the fire, swirling my hips against him and he let out an unsteady sigh.
I'd hoped he'd order me to the couch or my knees, but instead he growled, "What do you want inside? Be specific."
Was he asking me to talk dirty to him? I was both taken ab
ack and even more aroused. Our moans had always been our words before. I worried I'd ruin it by saying something odd as my tongue rolled over the awkward bits.
"I want your...cock...inside of me."
"Inside of what?" he said, his voice tight with authority and white hot need.
My pulse raced. My body clenched. “You know.”
The look he was giving me told me he did...and he wasn’t letting me off that easy. Sucks, because I was surprised I’d even gotten the ‘c’ word out.
“Here.” I took my finger and pushed it inside myself, feeling my body flutter around the digit.
It must have been close enough because I heard him unzipping his pants.
I made a C curve with my back and I couldn't help but groan as I felt him draw the head of his passion up and down my slit.
"Is this what you want?"
It was exactly what I wanted, but I needed it inside. "Please Jacob..."
He entered me with a savage thrust, gripping me as he drove so deep in my channel that I saw stars. He abandoned control and surrendered to the need that rocked us both.
Just when I felt like I could go no further, take no more, he’d bury himself deeper inside of me. And then I was back, in the thick of it, scrambling to consume him. To take every swollen inch.
The sound of our damp skin slapping together met with the groans and his thrusts changed, his grip lacking any finesse. He was holding onto me for dear life. Lost in me. He let out the words, the permission for my release, but I waited until I felt him shuddering, filling me, and then I closed my eyes and let go.
We stayed exactly as we were for a long time after we were done. My back to his chest, his arms pulling me close, tighter, like he couldn’t get me quite close enough.
****
It had been a full twenty-four hours since I said yes and tonight, Jacob and I were announcing our engagement officially to Megan and my parents.
Jacob hired a planner to set things up and make sure everything went off without a hitch and she’d done a great job. She’d made sure the catered food was on time and set up in such a way that it was like we’d copied a table from the restaurant and pasted it in our dining room. She’d brought in some mood lighting that sent a warm glow over the main room. I didn’t think it was possible to make the place look more breathtaking but the small pieces she’d come with—a tower light, a few vases, fresh flowers, and a glass sculpture that created a flow in the living room—just magnified the beauty of the space.
Still, I hovered, wiping invisible wrinkles from the tablecloth, straightening silverware, so nervous and jittery I felt like I’d jump out of my bones.
When I did a circle and went to rearrange the flowers, she stepped in my path, giving me a tight smile. “Miss Montgomery, I appreciate the help and input, but I’ve got it under control.”
My cheeks warmed and I fiddled with my earring. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
And so far, it was. I was still shocked that my mother hadn’t called me last night, furious that the internet knew I was engaged before she did. And even though I’d called Megan when Jacob and I got back from the cabin and squeed for a few minutes, I still felt like this was the real deal. It wouldn’t be ‘official’ until Jacob and I stood up in front of the people I loved and told them we were spending the rest of our lives together.
I saw a napkin slightly off center and sidestepped her. “I’m just gonna-”
“Join me in the kitchen,” Jacob finished for me, descending down the stairwell. One arched eyebrow made me clamp my mouth shut and give him a guilty nod.
I walked over to him, perking when I saw him brandish a bottle of red wine. He pulled out a single glass and poured the burgundy liquid in, filling it nearly to the rim.
“What are you implying?” I said, feigning insult.
“That you need to relax,” he answered with a chuckle. “Clarissa Stone does this for a living, Leila. The whole point of hiring her was so we wouldn’t stress.”
I rolled my eyes and took the glass. “I’m not stressing.” When he cleared his throat in a ‘you’re full of crap’ way, I added, “Much.”
I held the wine in my mouth, swishing it around before I swallowed, savoring the notes and bite as it went down.
Jacob was watching me, his tanned skin golden against the crisp white shirt he donned.
“You look amazing.”
He was just leaning against the counter, but somehow he turned it into foreplay. His firm body drew the eye, first to his chest, then down to his crotch where I found myself wondering if we had time for a quickie.
When my eyes darted back up, remembering myself, it was too late. His smirk said he knew exactly where my head was—firmly in the gutter.
I took another long gulp, shying away from him and turning bright red. “So Megan and the ‘rents will be here soon.”
My body tingled with glee when he wrapped his arms around my waist, taking the glass and putting it back on the counter. “I don’t think that’s what you really want to talk about.”
My eyes darted to the dining room entryway where I saw Clarissa sweeping back and forth, rearranging things. “You really think now is the time for this?”
“You tell me,” he whispered seductively. “Tell me you’re not wet at the thought of us going to the bedroom right now.” His lips brushed my ear. “Or maybe we could get a little creative right here.” His hands careened down to where I was throbbing, cupping me through my slinky black number. I was seriously considering doing something that would definitely put a kink in the dinner plans.
The elevator dinged and I let out a hiss of simultaneous relief and annoyance.
“Saved by the bell,” Jacob murmured, releasing me reluctantly.
I spun around and pecked him on the cheek while flipping the tables and pressing my hips into him and watching his eyes smolder. “Until later.”
I sauntered to the elevator, still tingling with a grin slathered on my face. I heard Megan’s familiar tone and rubbed my hands together excitedly. The doors separated and she stepped out, mirroring my joy.
I opened my arms. “Meg! It’s so good to see...” I didn’t finish, my smile creeping downward when I saw she wasn’t alone. It didn’t have anything to do with some weird BFF, territorial thing. It was more my brain slowly registering who the guy was. The cropped gold and brown hair. The chiseled jaw, the mouth accentuated by a goatee. The sea foam green eyes. She’d spoke of him, usually after one drink too many or after she claimed that he was a ‘type’ and that was the reason she and Cade would never happen. This guy with the smug grin on his face was the man that she fell for so hard that she related to the kids that doodled hearts in the margins of their notebook.
Mark Winters. The PE teacher that broke her heart.
Megan noticed my snarl and gave me a glare that I flat out ignored.
“Leila, this is Mark.”
I just burned a hole right through him, taking the Colgate, ‘ain’t I fine’ curve of his lips, balled it up and spat it out. I didn’t say a word to him for two reasons. One, I had my bestie’s back...and from the things she told me about how he ogled anything that twitched her hips even after she told him about her trust issues, he was the kind of guy that mother’s warned their daughter’s about. Bad news. Gorgeous eyes, bodies that didn’t quit and tongues that only knew how to lie. So I was SO not gonna be fake and play buddy-buddy with this guy.
And two, just what was Megan thinking bringing him to my engagement dinner? This obnoxious guy who obviously spat on fidelity was her date to a celebration of me and Jacob devoting ourselves to each other? I was flabbergasted.
But Megan was the one looking at me like she was confused. “You remember Mark, right?”
“Oh yes,” I said roughly. I snatched the bottle of wine he was holding out as a peace offering, going back and forth between cracking him over the head with it and using it to knock some sense into my friend.
As if Jacob could sense something w
as about to go down, he appeared at my elbow, easing the bottle from my grip. “It’s always good to see you, Megan.” He shook Mark’s hand. “Why don’t I show you around while they catch up?”
Mark leapt at the opportunity, oblivious to why I wanted nothing to do with him but conceding the fact that things were dicey at best.
As soon as Jacob wheeled him to the next room I turned to my amnesiac friend. “What’s going on Meg?”
“What do you...?” She frowned then let out a clipped laugh. “OH. You mean Mark.”
“Yes, I mean Mark,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Mark that you work with. Mark the Woman Eater. Mark that’s a spitting image of your ex in every douchey way.”
She dropped the act almost instantly. I hated invoking the ex-boyfriend card, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Is this about Cade?” I grilled.
“What?” she snorted. “What does that have to do with Cade?”
“You told me he’s been calling. And you claim you don’t like him.”
“And I don’t,” she reaffirmed brusquely, her fair skin turning redder by the second. “Which is why I’m here with Mark.”
I was confused. “Let me get this straight. You’re seeing your skanky co-worker again to convince yourself that you don’t like Cade?”
She turned on her heels in a huff, proving me right. “Is there alcohol? This is supposed to be a celebration.”
I had half a mind to turn her back around and refuse to go along with this charade. It was bad enough that she vetoed any convo that tipped in Cade’s direction, but bringing Mark here tonight? That was too much.
But when I saw her pick up a bottle of wine and almost gulp it down straight from the source, I realized that maybe she didn’t need me to storm the walls and restore her honor. Maybe right now, she just needed a friend.
I swiped my half-drunk glass of wine from the bar and stepped up beside her. “Let’s make a toast.”
“To what? My idiotic romantic choices?” she quipped.
