“Erm, I don’t think Mo’s is open.”
“We’re not going to Mo’s. Do you think you can walk a little in them ridiculous shoes?”
“You don’t like them?” I ask, insulted on behalf of my footwear.
“I love them, I just don’t want you to break your ankle,” he explains, displaying his delicious dimples in a wide grin. I leave the car in an air of exaggerated confidence, attempting to prove my skills at walking in sexy shoes. Secretly, I’m just as concerned as he is.
As we walk towards The Cellars I still suspect he’s planned something there. He has his arm round me supportively, tightening his grip on the one occasion where I stumble slightly, from the shoes rather than the drink, I hope.
When we get to the bar that he has so adamantly denied he’s taking me, we stop.
“But you said…?”
Jesse shakes his head, smiling smugly. I want so much to be in on his little secret. Standing behind me, he holds my shoulders and turns me gently so that I’m facing away from The Cellars.
Across from us is the corner that finishes the short length of bars. In its place is a large empty property with a glass front that spans the entire corner. I vaguely remember that it used to be a sports bar, but it’s been vacant for some time. No doubt due to how much renovation is needed. I imagine it’s expensive due to the sheer size of the building, but my subconscious indicates it’s not too expensive for somebody in particular. I refuse to believe it until I hear it for myself.
“Why am I staring at an empty building?” I ask.
“It’s not going to be empty for long.” His happiness is radiating from his Hollywood smile, but I can’t reciprocate when I don’t fully understand.
“Do you want to see inside?” He produces a set of keys from his pocket and bites his lip, disguising the unsaid secret that flickers behind his grin.
“You never fail to shock me, Mr. Jenner,” I sigh, forcing a smile.
Excitement runs through him and threatens to take me too, but I’m far too consumed with doubt. If he has bought the building then he is laying down foundations here, completely contradicting his earlier proposal.
Jesse pulls me across the road like a child on a sugar rush sprinting towards a sweet shop. I can’t help but find pleasure in his enthusiasm, if not for the reason behind it. This is the most animated I’ve seen him outside of the bedroom. Coming to a halt at the large door he bites his lower lip again, suppressing a self-satisfied smile.
“It’s a bit of a mess, so you will have to open your mind to the possibilities.” Turning the key, he nudges the door open with his shoulder and steps inside, guiding me in with his hand encased around mine.
The room is dark apart from the dim light that manages to penetrate through the dusty windows and I’m hit with a wall of stale air. Dust and the smell of aged beer cloud my nostrils. If my mind wasn’t too busy focusing on Jesse and his news I could very well feel sick. I can only make out Jesse’s outline as he let’s go of my hand and moves away.
“Don’t move,” he instructs. “There’s a light around here somewhere.”
After a fluttering of electricity the room welcomes some light from the few remaining working spotlights behind the counter. When my eyes readjust I find Jesse stood behind the solid work top of the ancient bar, his hand resting on a beer pump.
“Oh yeah, I can totally see you working behind a bar,” I tease.
“Hey, I worked behind a bar for years, sweets. I loved it.”
“Oh...yeah.” My sarcasm is rendered redundant at my inebriated forgetfulness. “So, assuming you have the keys because you’re buying this place, are you going to work behind this one?” I walk over and lean across the bar.
“Maybe. Are you? The punters would love a busty redhead serving them their beer.” His grin is mischievous and I pander to his playful side. I walk behind the bar and act out the process of pouring a pint.
“I think I missed my calling in life.”
Edging in behind me his warm hands find my hips. “No, you’ve done just fine.” He holds me steady, facing away from him, looking out onto what would be the street if it wasn’t for the powdered windows. “Shall I show you upstairs?” he whispers deliciously against my ear.
“If upstairs is as filthy as down here then I hope that’s not a proposition.”
The sound of his sweet laugh vibrates against my neck and I immediately contemplate negating on my dismissal.
The stairs are surprisingly sturdy and the landing is wide and brighter on account of a dust free window. The foundations of this run-down building seem good and the problems primarily cosmetic.
Jesse leads me down the short corridor, ignoring the first two doors. He tugs me gently towards the third room and lingers hesitantly before swinging the door open.
We enter into a large space with high ceilings and, thankfully, a more bearable odor. The floor is hardwood and the clicking of my heels echoes richly as I walk over to the vast window. It overlooks The Cellars and its neighboring bars.
“This would be your office,” he announces, his voice quiet.
My eyes dart to him in complete surprise as my wine-fuelled brain attempts to make sense of his words. “What do you mean? You really do want me to work here?”
“No, well if you want to you can, but I didn’t mean it like that.”
Closing the distance between us, he meets me at the window.
“What did you mean?”
“Well, the office you have now is tiny and you mentioned that you wanted to find somewhere else…” He gestures to the space around us. “Somewhere else.”
“Above a bar?”
“It would be quiet during the day and if it’s not then we can get it sound-proofed, whatever you need.” Seemingly pleased, he pushes his hard sell. “And you wouldn’t have to pay rent.”
I frown at his charity and at his offer in general. “I don’t understand. You’ve just asked me to move with you to New York and now you’re telling me to stay here?”
“You moving with me was plan A. This,” he gestures to the room again. “Is plan B.”
“I’m still not following.”
“There’s a living area upstairs. Three bedrooms. It’s bigger than what you have, and there’s office space. I thought you and Benji could live here and when I’m not in New York I’ll be here with you.”
My brain bubbles in shock at the snippets of information, mixing the details together to form a thick potion of emotions. So, he wanted me to move in with him but since I said no he thinks that the next best thing would be to have me wait for him here, as and when he decides to grace us with his presence?
He was closer with New York.
This latest offering completely negates his first. I’m so confused and offended. I feel cheap. He wants to house us and in return he can play at being a happy family for what, a few days at a time?
Stepping away from him, I continue backing up until I can feel the wall behind me. I am devastated and the need to cry is overwhelming, but I won’t give in to the tears. Not this time.
“Mickey, what’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”
I shake my head, unable to find my words amongst the angst.
“We can decorate it however you want, upstairs too. Do you want to see it?”
He holds out his hand for me but I push it away so that I can march towards the door. I need to get away from him. I can’t show him my tears, not again. I continue onto the landing, down the stairs, and back through the bar to the entrance. All the while Jesse is following me and calling my name.
In a badly lit room, wearing ridiculous shoes, with far too much wine flowing through my veins, a moment of certain probability strikes as the heel of my stiletto catches on some unknown article and sends me crashing to the floor. My hands flail out in front of me, scraping my palms against the rough wood and then my knee follows, slamming into the hard surface and forcing a cry to escape my mouth.
“Shit, Mickey!” Jesse calls, and
he is at my side at once. His arms drape over me in a desperate act of comfort. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not frickin’ okay!” I shout, slowly maneuvering myself from my knees onto my feet with Jesse’s support. My leg is throbbing and I can’t put weight on it just yet. He removes his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders before reaching for a dusty barstool and prompting me to sit. The tears that I’ve desperately been trying to keep at bay begin to fall defiantly from my stinging eyes.
“Don’t look at me!” I cry, turning away from Jesse and shielding my evident upset with my sore hand.
“Mickey, baby, please,” Jesse croons as he gently tries to manipulate my hand from my face. “Let me see you.”
“NO! I’m sick of you seeing my cry. I don’t cry anymore and yet all I’ve done since you’ve been back in my life is cry.” Jesse winces at my words and I immediately feel regret, even if I’m too angered to do anything about it. He forces my hand away and casts his blazing eyes onto mine.
“Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”
“Everything’s wrong!” I complain, unable to halt the rant as it spills from my mouth. “Aside from tripping on God knows what and busting up my damn knee, the love of my life tells me that he wants me to live in some pathetic love shack above his bar so that he has some company when he decides to visit!”
“Whoa! That’s not what this is at all.”
“Well, that’s exactly how it seems.”
“Mickey, I can’t win. I ask you to move in with me, you say no. But when I give you the means to stay here you throw a fit! Tell me, what do you want? Because I’ve tried to come up with the answer and I’ve got jack-shit left to offer!”
“I want you to move here with me!” I scream. I am completely shocked at the dramatic outburst, let alone the selfishness.
He sighs, exasperated and takes a step back. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I know. I know it’s irrational, but it’s what I want.” I sulkily cross my arms over my chest, briefly wondering if my selfishness can be blamed on the forth glass of wine.
Jesse is silent for some time. He’s looking at me intently, but not questioningly. He’s not expecting me to talk, he’s thinking. His brow is furrowed and his eyes flickering between me and the room around us.
Stepping closer again and taking my hand in his, he lowers his gaze to my grazed palm and speaks slow, articulately and resolute. “Okay. I’ll work something out. I can try and be here as much as possible, but it isn’t always going to be feasible. I’ll have to work away occasionally, but I guess I can try and work primarily from here. I can organize more senior management in New York.” He nods his head, a little distracted, as if trying to convince himself rather than me. “I’ll work it out. I’ll do anything to make this work.”
My spare hand moves from consoling the pain in my leg to the pain in my head as I try to work through this revelation. “I don’t want you to mess up your business for me.”
“And I don’t want to mess us up for my business.”
“It’s so soon though, to be so drastically changing things. It’s only been a couple of weeks, Jesse.”
“It’s been ten years, sweets,” he argues. He steps closer, no longer frightened off by my faded hostility. “I am finally happy here, baby, and that’s because of you. I will do anything to keep you. If that means altering some aspects of my work, my life, then I’ll do that for us.”
He tilts my chin up to meet his promising gaze and I feel overwhelmed by the responsibility thrust upon me by his words. They’re everything I’ve ever wanted him to say, and yet I can’t help but worry that they are premature and born out of guilt. This last week in Starling has been a vacation to him. When life here becomes real and mundane will he want to leave again?
“Will you live here with me, sweets?”
His question hangs in the air like fumes. It dries my mouth and clouds my judgment. I want so badly to live with him but like this isn’t right. Nothing is perfect, and after everything we have been through, perfect is what we need. New York is too big a step for me, yet here is too little. It’s still on Jesse’s terms making it easy for him if he ever wants out.
“Jesse, I want to be in your life, more than anything, but I can’t live here. I can’t be so involved if you decide to leave. What if you outgrow Starling again?” I pose, wiping errant tears from my eyes. “I’ve survived you leaving before, but it will be so much harder if I am living in your home, and working in your office.” I’m talking to myself rather than Jesse, but his presence can’t be ignored when his arms crush me to him.
“What will it take for you to realize that I’m serious about us? My wanting to live with you? My return?” He looks around us, signaling with his eyes to his new business, the offer of a new home. “Stop expecting my leave and allow yourself to enjoy us.”
The second he stops speaking his lips hit mine with a passion found out of desperation. I respond with an eagerness to rival his and allow myself to begin to let go of the stubborn fear and doubt.
Suddenly, I’m airborne as he lifts me onto the bar and parts my legs in a frantic attempt to be closer. His urgency leads me to believe that he’s about to take me like this, on top of a dirty bar with only a dusty window protecting us from public view. In this moment, with his hands pulling me invitingly against him, I don’t care. I would willingly offer myself to him.
As if reading my thoughts and disagreeing with them, he fights against our magnetic lips and pulls apart. Holding me at arm length and catching his breath, he looks deep into my eyes and sighs. “You deserve better than this dirty bar. Let me take you home and show you how much I want this. How much I want you.”
Tugging at his expensive shirt I bring him closer and rest my forehead against his. “Show me here. Do you want me, Jesse?”
He contemplates his answer momentarily before baring his soul once more. “I want you in every way possible. I want your mind and your body. I want your best and your worst. I want everything that is important to you, as it is as equally important to me. I want to share everything I have with you, that’s the least you deserve. And, I want to restart my life with you, because it has been on hold since I left.”
These heartfelt words are everything I have ever needed from him, they are perfection, and yet they are somehow eclipsed by the beautiful peace that casts over his face. It’s as if through his verse he’s found acceptance for us and for his future. In response his face shines with an awesome serenity that I’ve never before been fortunate enough to see. Through the serenity lies a truth that I am finally able to believe, and so in return I give him my trust.
“You can have me. I’ll live with you, but at my house, not here.” I whisper, staring intently at him through my thickened lashes. “Now, I need you. And I can’t wait to be taken home.”
Uncertainty flashes over his deep blues, but it’s fleeting. They’re suddenly alive with the possibility of having me. “Here? You’re sure?” he asks, fighting the need that I know is there.
I lean in and bite his bottom lip. I’m feeling overtly sexy thanks to the outrageously expensive wine and knowing how much he wants me, in every way. I can’t bear the thought of waiting any longer. “Don’t make me wait,” I beg before my tongue flicks out, enticing him to forget his etiquette.
“I’d never leave a lady waiting,” he says, taking his good manners and flipping them to suit his current needs. He strokes back the hair that hangs over my eyes. “You’re so unbelievably sexy right now. You know that, right? Propped up on my bar, wearing my jacket and making those eyes at me? I’m a possessive man, baby, and this is just...it’s perfect.” He growls, actually growls, before crashing his lips into mine.
I meet his aggression, my hands messing with his artistically styled hair. He slips his jacket off of my shoulders and grabs my ass, pulling me hard against him. I like this aggression in him. It feeds my confidence knowing that I can make him behave so raw. And his rawness is infecti
ous. My heart hammers raucously against my chest and every inch of my skin is alive and waiting for his touch.
Dragging me from the counter, he wraps my legs around his waist and I can physically feel his excitement. “Baby, I need this now, hard,” he groans against my mouth. “How’s your leg? Can you stand?”
It hurts like hell, but I’m not going to ruin the moment. “It’s fine,” I breathe against his ear. He loves that. I can practically feel the chill as it climbs the length of his spine.
“Stand,” he instructs, easing me down onto my stilettos and leaning back enough to appreciate the entire length of me. “You’re so hot. Do you have any idea how many eyes were on you tonight?”
I smile, coyly. I don’t believe him but I like this little act we have going on. He likes me feeling sexy. I love me feeling sexy. “They can look all they want. I’m yours,” I purr, leaning in, making sure to press my breasts hard against him.
“Damn straight…Fuck, Mickey.” Our lips collide again, his tongue immediately finding mine, lighting the throbbing ache in the pit of my core. He pulls away far too soon, but his tongue continues its torment against my ear. I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips as the throbbing swells unbearably.
After manipulating the hair away from my neck his mouth is able to continue to roam, but he’s biting, not kissing and the feeling is fierce. Animalistic. His hands are on my waist and in one slick movement he spins me around so that I’m facing the bar, my back to him. When his power is thrust against my ass I gasp at the ferocity. Warm hands glide over my thighs, and then I feel the hem of my dress being lifted. He doesn’t stop until it’s at my waist.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice deep and raspy, singing to me on some primal level. Teasing fingers skim over the lace of my thong and tug gently until they it’s hanging over my thighs. “Do you want me to take you like this?”
His hunger is infectious. He always wants me, I know he does, but to see him want me this badly does something to me. I can barely focus enough to answer him. I’m trembling so much that I have to hold onto the bar.
Forget Me Not Page 21
