Kiss of Fire (St. James Family)

by Parker, Lavender

  “What are your reasons, huh? I want to know why I'm not good enough for the high and mighty Sebastian O'Donovan.”

  “You're too good for me. That's the problem. Well, it will be a problem. Just wait. When you can't have all the stupid shit you want because I don't make enough money. When I can't take you to all the fancy places you want.”

  “I don't care about that stuff! Besides, I have my own money, you know. I don't need a man to do those things for me.”

  “Christophe Van der Kind seems pretty keen to do all that shit for you. And you aren't in any hurry to stop that gravy train, are you?” Her mouth dropped open and he knew he'd gone too far. She shoved at him, pushing him against the wall.

  “Get the hell out!” she hissed then strolled down the hallway, not giving him another look. He wrenched open the door, and stood at the threshold for a minute. The thought of leaving her, after all the awful shit he'd said, seemed unbearable. Part of him wanted to go and drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But he knew he couldn't. He had to go. So he forced his legs to move and he left.

  He was halfway to the elevator when she yanked open the door and ran out into the hallway, her chest heaving like she was about to hyperventilate.

  “Don't go,” she said. “Don't you dare go!”

  “Fuck,” he sighed, knowing that he had to go, but not wanting to. The anger still simmered under his skin—at Van der Kind and at the situation that the rich asshole had forced on them. Toni wasn't to blame, after all. How could she say no to such a lavish gift? She looked so scared at him leaving, but he realized that her fear was leaching out and snaking into him. He would be okay after Toni, he told himself. It might be terrifying now for her, but she would be okay, too. She was young. She had a lot more time to find the one that was right for her.

  He jabbed the elevator button furiously, thinking about her with some man like Van der Kind, and his mind blacked out for a minute. He gave up on the elevator and went for the stairs, just needing to get the hell out of there. He could hear her following him, and she threw herself against the railing, leaning down to call after him.

  “Sebastian O'Donovan, you better come back here and talk to me!” she hissed.

  “Not tonight,” he said, but he stopped on the landing. She stared down at him, gnawing at her lip.

  “This is just a fight, right? We're just fighting?” she said, after a moment.

  “Yeah.”

  “What are we fighting about?”

  “I don't fucking know,” he bumped his back against the wall. “Lots of shit.”

  “You know, when I go to the trouble to get you food, you should eat it,” she said lightly, and she looked so determined that he couldn't help but sigh and nod. She graced him with a wide smile and he basked in her relieved happiness for a few moments. But as he trudged back up the stairs, he knew he was simply putting off the inevitable. Maybe not that night, maybe not the next day, but soon. He'd have to get the balls to end it. For both of their sakes.

  Chapter 15

  Toni knew deep down what was coming, but she was in denial.

  After the tense dinner they'd had at the new apartment, she'd been numb. He'd left without kissing her, and hardly touching her. It was a sign. Pure terror at the thought of being without him had eventually mellowed into complete lack of feeling. She went about her day like nothing was wrong. She started telling herself that it would all be fine, that he would come to his senses and realize that they were the only thing that mattered. All the other shit didn't matter. But that was a lie. All the other shit mattered to him, and that was the problem.

  Toni wanted him. She knew they had differences, but she didn't care. She could look past anything when it came to him. Because she loved him, and that's just how it was. She was a straight-up fool when it came to Sebastian O'Donovan, and the situation wasn't going to remedy itself anytime soon. When he wasn't with her, she was thinking about him. When he was with her, she was thinking about the future—figuring out how to be with him for as long as possible. How could she make him love her? The infuriating question had no answer.

  Two weeks passed with a few terse phone calls, and excuses to not see each other. It was too late, one of them was too tired, one of them had to be up early the next morning. That day, she'd woken up and realized she was slowly going out of her mind. His three days off were starting that night, and she decided she would call off for the Saturday performances, letting the understudy take over. Her ankle was bothering her anyway and a break wouldn't be the worst thing for her. She had every intention of going to Queens and waiting for him outside the firehouse. She was busy writing a speech in her head, an impassioned speech that would make it impossible for him to leave her, when he called her. She jumped, startled, and answered right away, turning into a dark hallway at work, her heart pounding through her chest.

  “Hey, lovely,” he said, his voice sounding far away. “What time are you done tonight?”

  “Around midnight.”

  “Can I pick you up?”

  “Yes.” She bit down on her lip, hard.

  “I'll text you when I'm close.”

  “Alright.”

  The conversation lasted less than a minute. She checked the call time. Twenty-five seconds. He was at work and couldn't talk long, she told herself, but she knew that was a lie. She spent the rest of the day chewing on her nails and running through all the possible scenarios through her head. He could break up with her, true. Or he could take her home and fuck her like crazy, and then they'd laugh about how tense things had been. Or they could yell and scream and then she would crack a joke and it would be like nothing had happened.

  If he did try to break up with her, she would distract him with her impassioned speech. She would stall and be diplomatic and somehow, she'd get to keep him. Pure, blind optimism was the only thing keeping her going at that point. The idea that everything would work itself out in the end was her lifeline.

  When the time came to dance, she danced. She poured her whole heart into it, needing an outlet for all the shit that was going through her brain. For the five minutes of her solo, she could pretend that she was all alone in the world, and no one could hurt her. But the thought of a world with no one else in it was terrifying, and she couldn't hide there forever. The five minutes came to an end, and she rejoined the world. The applause was deafening that night, and she soaked it up like a sponge as she made her way offstage.

  O'Donovan's red truck was parked in his usual spot by the front of Lincoln Center, and it being a friday night in summertime, the streets were clogged with people. She hurried down to him, pushing through the throng, not even bothering to pretend she wasn't dying to see him. He walked around the side of the truck, looking so damn good she couldn't stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him, hard.

  She didn't care if she was clinging to him and making a spectacle of herself. Her adrenaline was still pumping from the show and she was so tired that she just held on to him for an uncomfortable amount of time. But he felt good and smelled good and she never wanted to let go. Eventually she stopped being a creep and let him go, and she got into the truck when he opened the door for her.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

  “My sister's,” she said, without thinking. Nat and Christophe were in the Caribbean for the weekend and she didn't want to go to her old apartment, because it didn't feel like home anymore. She was rarely there, anyway. The new apartment was empty and didn't feel like home either. The contractor was still working on finishing, painting the rooms the colors she'd picked rather half-heartedly. She'd been at Nat's almost every night since the big fight anyway. She needed the comfort. Nat hadn't asked her what was wrong, and she appreciated it, because she didn't want to talk about it anyway.

  O'Donovan navigated his way through traffic, not driving too aggressively, oddly enough. He rolled to a stop at red lights, instead of braking hard and jerking. He didn't swerve around slow cabs. She glanced
at his familiar profile, taking in the little bump in his nose, and the curve of his lips. She wished he would say something, but then again, she didn't know if she wanted to hear what he had to say. Despite his positively slow driving, the blocks passed too quickly and soon they were pulling up outside of the townhouse.

  “O'Donovan,” she said, not knowing what else to say, but wanting to be the first to break the silence. He scrubbed his hands across his face. “How was your day?” she blurted out. “Anything good?”

  “No,” he shook his head, still not looking at her. “How was your show?”

  “I danced my ass off,” she said, laughing a bit. He didn't crack a smile. After a moment, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel.

  “There's someone else,” he said, gruffly. Bluntly.

  “What?” Her mind hiccuped, and she wondered if she'd heard him right.

  “There's someone else, Toni,” he repeated. Toni blinked rapidly, her mind processing the information. Someone else. He was leaving her for someone else. She threw open the truck door, not caring when a taxi on the street honked loudly in protest. She hopped out and slammed the door shut, trying to block out the words. She stood there, rooted in the spot until he grabbed her and pulled her around the truck out of the flow of traffic. She followed him dumbly around to the sidewalk, feeling like she was in shock.

  “I can't do this anymore,” he was saying. She wanted to beg him, scream at him, convince him. But she couldn't move her lips yet. “I don't want to try and try and just end up in the same damn place,” he continued, and she realized he was still holding her hand, stroking her fingers with his rough calloused ones. She gripped his hand, not wanting to let him go.

  “No,” she said finally, her voice hoarse. Her throat was slowly closing and she swallowed, trying to clear it.

  “I'm not going to let you talk me out of it, lovely,” he said. “I've made up my mind.” She felt like he'd slapped her in the face and the tears came and she had no way to stop them. She tried to think of what Nat would do in this situation. She would hold it in, pretend that nothing was wrong. She would hide her hurt. But Toni couldn't.

  “I love you,” she whispered and he pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, crying into his shoulder, hiccuping and sobbing, shivering despite his warmth. “Why don't you love me?” she whispered, as they stood under the street light, their drama unfolding in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Toni.” His lips moved against her neck, setting sparks off down her spine. She swiped at her tears, kissing his neck, and then his cheek.

  “You don't have to leave me,” she whispered. “You don't.” When she reached his mouth, he didn't push her away. She brushed her lips against his, and he responded, crushing his mouth to hers. His body was so familiar and fit hers so perfectly. She raked her fingers over his shoulders and through his hair, desperation welling up in her. She couldn't give him up. She wouldn't, dammit.

  He broke the kiss first, but she didn't let him pull away. “Who is she? Is she white? Is she Irish? What makes her better than me?” Toni shot questions at him, wanting answers.

  “She's not better than you. Just different.”

  “But you want her more!” Anger was rearing up now, taking the place of the heavy sorrow. She would be sad later, she decided. Now she wanted him to feel her pain. She let her hands fall and he stepped back, away from her. He dropped his head, not looking her in the eye. He wanted his life to be easy, so he was leaving her, she realized. Being with her was somehow too difficult for him. “You're a coward. You love me but you can't admit it.”

  O'Donovan looked at her sharply, but didn't answer. Finally, she got a reaction. “I want to know. Is she white?” He worked his jaw, still silent. “Tell me.” Her voice was low, but strong.

  “Fuck. It's not about that,” he said, and she had her answer.

  “You son of a bitch.” Toni heard Annata in her voice, and she welcomed it. Her sister had the strength that Toni desperately needed in a moment like this. “Tell me!”

  “She's Irish, okay? And she's divorced and she wants to get married and have Irish babies.”

  Toni felt like her head was slowly imploding. The thought of him marrying and having babies with somebody else ripped a jagged hole through her insides. She felt herself sway on her feet, as the pain took hold of her. So this was what having your heart really broken felt like, she thought, in a sudden burst of clarity. This wasn't a high school romance that was ending. This was the love of her life leaving her, and she was completely powerless to stop it from happening.

  “I'm just ending it now, so that later, it doesn't hurt even more,” he said, softly.

  “Go,” she heard herself saying. “Just go.”

  “We're not meant to be, lovely.” He came closer, wiping the tears that were flowing freely down her cheeks with his thumbs.

  “Because you say so?” She forced herself to look up into his eyes. The green was tinged with red, and he looked so tired.

  “I'm going to go,” he said. “We'll talk tomorrow.” She shook her head vigorously.

  “No. I don't want to talk to you.”

  He nodded. “Alright.” Then he turned and walked away. She fumbled with her keys, finally getting the door open just as the tears started falling. She slammed the door behind her, tossing her bag on the floor and kicking off her shoes. She paced to the kitchen and back, not knowing what to do with herself. Finally, not able to take it anymore, she ran back to the door, and flung it open.

  “O'Donovan!” She called after him, her voice carrying. He was in the truck, the driver's side door still open, his foot still on the ground. She ran after him, not caring she was barefoot. He caught her in a hug when she reached the bottom of the stoop, and she held him again, her face pressed into his neck. She sobbed freely, unable to stop the flow of tears. “Please.” She got out, in between sobs. “Stay with me. Just for tonight.” He rubbed her back as she heaved and coughed.

  “Come on.” He lifted her under her arms and she hopped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. A simple movement, that they'd done so many times. Now, when it felt like they were over, it was a comfort. He slid his hands down to her ass, holding her against him as she held him around his neck. He carried her into the house, and kicked the door closed. He carried her to the TV room and laid her down on the couch, and she let him, feeling so tired and wrung out. She sighed when his warmth left her and felt her limbs sink into the soft leather.

  O'Donovan slumped down in the chair facing the couch. He sat forward, his elbows on his knees, watching her. “Go to sleep, lovely.”

  “I can't.” She threw an arm over her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks, dripping into her hair. “You're going to get a ticket. You're double parked.”

  “Christ.” He rubbed at his red eyes, his head down. “Fuck it.” Toni took a deep breath, willing her brain to shut up and let her drift into blissful unconsciousness. But sleep wouldn't come, only more tears.

  “Lay with me.” She was perilously close to begging, but at that point her pride was almost non-existent. She would beg if it meant he stayed with her. “You're tired.”

  “It's not a good idea.” But he was already standing. She moved so that he could stretch out beside her on the couch. After a bit of maneuvering, they settled and Toni rested her head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. She could almost forget the pain of the break-up, almost pretend that it wasn't happening. His warm arms held her, and she snaked her knee high on his hip. Her tears dried up as their breathing settled into a rhythm. She slid her hands under his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

  O'Donovan's breath caught, and she felt his cock harden through his jeans. A flash of hope shot through her. He still wanted her. “Don't,” he hissed. Ignoring him, she tilted her head back and ran her tongue across his stubbled chin. She yanked his shirt up to his ribs, running her hands over all of his hot skin. She trailed kisses down his chest and traced the cross tattoo on his sternu
m with her tongue.

  “I want you,” she murmured, her lips against his skin. “I'll never stop wanting you.” He growled, the sound reverberating low in his chest. She jackknifed up and pulled her shirt over her head. He had her pinned down under his big body in a flash.

  “Dammit, Toni.” His voice was strained, his hardness pressing against her thigh. She yanked at his shirt, and he raised his arms and tossed it off. Then he kissed her, hard, his hand closing over her breast. He caressed her, thumbing at her nipple as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. She heard herself whimpering, not able to control herself. She needed him. She wanted him to need her in return.

  “This is a mistake,” he mumbled against her lips. She opened her eyes, finding his green ones staring down at her, intense and conflicted. She took his face in her hands, wanting to convince him. Wanting so much.

  “No,” she said. “Being with my man is never a mistake.”

  ***

  Her man. She'd called him her man. Christ, he was such an asshole. He shouldn't be holding her like this. He shouldn't. Because his mind was made up. Brigid was the one he was going to be with. But dammit, he still wanted Toni. He didn't know if he was ever going to stop wanting Toni. For a while longer, she could be his girl and he could be her man. So he yanked her leggings off in a quick motion and positioned himself between her slender thighs. She helped him shove his jeans low down his hips and he leaned into her, wanting to thrust into her tight wetness one more time. Just one more time.

  Her starry-eyes had him by the balls, like always. She was pleading with him, her lips not even moving. Those eyes were pleading, begging. Don't leave me, they said. They were killing him. Every tear that she shed on account of him was like a punch to the gut. And now he was going to make love to her for the last time, breaking both their hearts in the process. It wasn't right. He needed to stop thinking with his dick, he reminded himself. She furrowed her brow, noticing the change on his face.