by Brook Wilder
“Thanks,” I laughed. I didn’t want that to get out either. That was my own personal fucking business and if I had to choose, well, I wasn’t so sure what I would say.
***
Jill met me at a Mexican joint just outside of town and I kept my hands to myself as she slid into the booth, her eyes sparkling. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” I answered, handing her a margarita. “I didn’t know if you liked those things, but they are on sale.”
“Thanks,” she answered, taking a sip. “It’s perfect.”
I nodded, feeling nervous about what to talk about. Would she be shocked to know I had thought about her all damn day?
Had she thought about me at all?
Jill reached across the table and touched the back of my hand. “Are you all right?”
I gave her a weak smile. “Just work. Sorry I’m not good company.”
“It’s okay,” she said, stroking my hand with her fingers. “I just—this is weird, isn’t it?”
I chuckled. “Let’s try again. This place has the best tacos around. Why don’t I order some?”
Jill gave me a smile. “And then we can mull over our days together.”
So, we did just that. I ordered tacos and she told me about how she had done some research, asking questions about the Aztecas. I answered them the best I could, noticing that she wasn’t writing anything down.
And she thought I was the smart one. “You know,” I said after her last question was answered. “You aren’t the typical journalist type.”
She laughed. “Why do you say that?”
“You have no notebook,” I pointed out. “And you aren’t recording my every word.”
Jill tapped her forehead, grinning. “I have a great memory. It sometimes gets me in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation light though I desperately wanted to rush her home and get her into my bed.
But she wasn’t paying attention to me, rather to the TV at the bar, where an interview was taking place. The guy’s name was Julian Elbert and it didn’t take me long to put two and two together of where I had heard that name before.
Shit.
“This award means everything to my career,” he was saying, a damn fake smile on his face. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am today and there are so many people that helped me get here. Without them, I would not be in the place I am, professionally or personally.”
The camera panned back to the interviewer; her smile was soft. “I hear that there is a woman in your life?”
Julian’s face filled the screen. “Yes,” he said with a little laugh. “There is. I won’t say any names, but you probably already know it, don’t you, Samantha?”
Samantha tittered with laughter and I felt sick to my stomach as I glanced at Jill, whose face had grown pale. It was like watching someone die in front of you, a slow, painful death. “You don’t have to watch that shit,” I found myself saying.
Her eyes snapped to mine. “I want to kill him.”
Her words were laced with anger but there was an undercurrent of hurt as well and I hated to hear that hurt in her voice. I still didn’t know if I was looking at the person telling the truth in front of me or if the man on TV was the truthful one, but I still felt her pain.
Hell, it was written all over her face.
So, I stood and walked over to the bar, asking the bartender to turn it the football game on instead, making up some shit about how I was a big fan. He obliged, even more so when I slipped him the twenty-dollar bill as a thank you, and I made my way back to our booth.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly as I picked up a taco.
I looked at Jill, the gratitude shining in her eyes. “Yeah, I had to.”
She leaned back in the booth, her margarita now empty, and I polished off the taco, wiping my hands on the napkin. “It takes a long time to get over someone that has wronged you,” I started. “That anger, it will eat you up alive and make you bitter without you even realizing it.”
“I know,” she answered, picking at her napkin. “I’ve tried, believe me, but when shit like that happens, it’s hard to ignore it.”
I couldn’t even imagine.
We finished our meal in mostly silence and after paying the check, I walked Jill out to her car. “You can come stay at my place, if you want,” I threw out there, hating that she was heading back to that damn motel.
She climbed in the driver's side and rolled down the window, giving me a tentative smile. “I might take you up on that, Keith.”
“I’m working tonight,” I told her, running a hand through my hair. We are on overtime now, me and Sabs. “So I will see you tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I would like that.”
Clearing my throat, I gave her a wave. “See you then.”
I didn’t even make it to my car before she got out of the car, grabbed my arm, and swung me around, pressing her lips to mine. I cupped the back of her head and kissed her, feeling her pent-up emotion aimed back at me.
Jill was the first one to pull away, her breathing erratic. “Good night, Keith.”
“Night,” I forced out, watching as she climbed back in her car and drove away.
It was some time before I did the same.
Chapter 15
Jill
I typed my last sentence before frowning and erasing it again, knowing I had done the same thing about ten times in the last hour. Normally I was at my best in the afternoons, after a few beers, but I couldn’t find it in myself to function today.
It wasn’t because I couldn’t write anything. No, I had plenty to sort out based on my intel and the photos I had taken.
It was because of a certain Rough Jester that was occupying my thoughts far more than I cared to admit. When he had tried to walk away last night, I couldn’t let him leave without having his lips on mine. I craved his touch, the way he treated me like I was some fragile person in his life that didn’t have a black stain smeared across her soul.
He treated me like I had always dreamed about being treated by a man.
It just happened to be part of the club I was trying to bring down.
Groaning, I lowered my head to the desk, resting my forehead against the fake wood. This wasn’t part of my plan, these tender feelings that had settled in my heart. I wanted to say that I didn’t like the way he made me feel.
But I would be lying to myself. I loved the way he had fucked me, hard and fast, but then also slow and easy, as if I was the most important thing to him.
Geez, I sounded like a country song.
My heart did hurt, though. It hurt because I knew by getting my revenge on Julian, I would be hurting Keith and his family. I would be destroying lives just for the sake of erasing the hurt and pain I had dealt with over these last few years.
I didn’t like the way that made me feel at all. Could I do it? Could I give Keith my heart and soul only to rip his out?
Lifting my head, I ran a hand over my face. I couldn’t. I wasn’t that type of person and now that I knew how Keith’s hands felt on my body, how his kisses chased back the darkness that had grown within me, I wanted so much more.
Staring at the words I had written, I thought about what the repercussions would be if I didn’t write the story.
One, Julian would win.
Two, I would have to live with the fact that he would have my job, the one that I had worked hard for, for the rest of my life.
Three, I didn’t know what Keith was truly thinking about me. What if it didn’t work out in the end and I was back to square one?
What if I came out of this with my heart shattered into a million pieces?
It would be my own fault. If only I had not acted on the kindness of Keith or been hotly attracted to him. If only I had kept my hands to myself.
There were a lot of if-onlys in my life.
I shut down my laptop and stood, stretching my body. When I had awoken at Keith’s place ye
sterday morning, I had expected it to be weird between us, honestly. With Julian, there had never been a time that it was weird, and I imagined it was because we had never spent the night together. Sure, we had experienced some late nights, but never had we lounged around in bed, talking like Keith and I had until we had fallen asleep.
Truthfully, I had felt so comfortable in his arms that I wanted to unload my entire soul to him.
I had never felt that way with Julian, ever.
As the years went by, I was realizing that my time with Julian had been just a blip in the road to him, a way to obtain what he had always wanted.
It wasn’t because he cared about me or that he was looking for a future with me. Julian was a selfish bastard and had preyed on me.
Sighing, I walked over to my suitcase, pulling out my undergarments so I could jump in the shower. I didn’t want to think about Julian. I wanted to think about Keith and Keith only. I wanted to be in his presence, to forget who I was and why I was here.
Most of all, I wanted to thank him. It sounded silly, but he could have easily gotten rid of me the first day we crossed paths. Instead, the club was willing to work with me and I wasn’t about to cross them.
I just hoped they weren’t going to feed me crap, things I already knew. I wanted the hard stuff.
I really wanted to help.
The thought hit me on the way to the bathroom. I wanted to help. I didn’t want to ruin the club. I wanted to give them whatever justice they were looking for.
Oh wow. When had I turned into the journalist saint?
There was one other concern I hadn’t allowed myself to think about. What if they were just using me? What if Keith tossed me aside after they got whatever they were looking for or worse, got rid of me?
Was I willing to take that chance?
Keith’s tender expression crossed my mind and I sighed, a little happier this time around. Keith was different. I felt like he was honest and wouldn’t lie to me if I asked.
And I would be asking. Though I wanted to live in this little bubble of happiness he had put me in, there was reality out there, reality that would crush the bubble and me in it if I didn’t go ahead and prepare for the inevitable.
Frowning, I walked into the bathroom. Why couldn’t my life just be happy?
***
Two hours later, I was standing in front of Keith’s apartment door, my arms loaded with bags. Unable to knock, I kicked at his door, hoping that he was home. His car was in the parking lot, so I knew he was here, unless he had caught a ride with someone else, of course.
Then I would be out fifty bucks on the food I had just purchased, intending to cook for him the one meal I could do really well.
Thankfully, the door did open, and Keith stood there, bare chested and wearing an amused smile. I felt my heart go pitter-patter as I looked at the bare expanse of his chest, wanting to run my hands over his hard muscles. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” he answered, reaching to grab one of the bags. “I didn’t know you delivered groceries.”
I stuck out my tongue at him. “I was hoping I could cook for you tonight.”
He arched a brow as I walked inside, shutting the door behind me. “You cook?”
I gave a half shrug. “A little, and nothing fancy, so don’t start calling me Betty Crocker.”
Keith followed me to his kitchen, where I set the bag I was carrying down on the counter. “What’s the occasion?”
Busying myself with removing the contents so he couldn’t see the blush on my cheeks, I heard the concern in his voice. It was odd for me to do this. I mean, we had only slept together twice and now I was treating it like we were in a relationship!
This was stupid. I shouldn’t have done this.
Keith’s arms encircled my waist and he pulled me against his lean body, pressing a kiss to my neck. “This is nice. I’m glad you are here.”
His words infused warmth throughout my veins. He wanted me here. Most of the time people didn’t want me around, but Keith wanted me here.
He didn’t know how much that meant to me and how it was far more than I deserved.
So, I cooked for him. Keith turned on some music and to my dismay, threw on a T-shirt while I boiled the pasta and tossed it in the cream sauce that I could make by heart. Once it was all finished, I served it on what looked like brand-new china. “I don’t entertain much,” Keith chuckled as he poured me a glass of wine. “My choice of china is a paper plate most of the time.”
I nervously watched him eat the meal as I sipped on my wine, only taking a few bites myself. This was different for me, being in the presence of a man and actually feeling comfortable doing so. “Can I ask you a question?”
Keith paused, chewing slowly. “Of course,” he stated, reaching for his wine. “Though I might be inclined to not answer it.”
I smiled. “Fair enough. Is it good?”
He laid his fork down, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “That’s your question?”
I nodded quickly. I normally didn’t need praise but coming from Keith, it was, well, wonderful.
Keith tapped his chin with his finger, a mischievous glint in his beautiful eyes. “Well, I’m no food expert, but it’s damn good, Jill.”
My cheeks warmed. “Good. I mean that’s great.”
His grin only widened as he picked up his wineglass. “Why don’t we refill and move to more comfortable seating?”
So, we moved to his couch, my nerves in frazzled mode. Instead of sitting at the end of the couch, Keith sat next to me, draping his arm over the back of the couch casually. God, I could smell his cologne, goose bumps breaking out over my skin. I wanted to literally jump his bones and ride him like there was no tomorrow just so I could feel that completion within me that only Keith could bring.
He made me forget who I was and what I was trying to do.
I curled my legs underneath me, fighting against leaning against his shoulder. “No work tonight?”
“Nah,” he answered. “We get a night off every once in a while to recharge. My brain is fucking fried.”
The journalist in me was piqued with interest and I tamped it down, not wanting to ruin the night. I was more than just a journalist.
I was a woman with needs and I needed Keith. I placed my wineglass on the table and plucked his out of his hand before straddling him. His hands went to my waist and we stared at each other. “What are you doing, Jill?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking the skin that was exposed between my shirt and my jeans.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, my voice raw. “I just don’t know, Keith.” I wanted him, but I wanted his closeness more than anything.
His eyes searched mine and I was surprised by the flicker of tenderness in his depths. “Yeah, I don’t know either, Jill.”
I gave him a small smile. “But it’s damn good whatever it is, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Damn good.”
I leaned in and brushed my lips over his, feeling the tremor in my spine as his hand hitched up higher under my shirt. I hadn’t come to seduce him, but he was far too delectable for me not to.
“Jill,” he mumbled against my lips as I slid my hands up his chest, feeling every bump of his muscles.
“Keith,” I whispered. His erection was brushing against my stomach, straining against his jeans, and I gasped, remembering how he felt inside me.
I wanted that again.
His lips pressed against my ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. “Tell me what you want, Jill.”
Oh, I wanted a lot of things. My hands drifted down to his belt buckle, my fingers already starting to work on it. “I want you inside me,” I whispered. “Deep inside me.”
Chapter 16
Wires
She was fucking killing me.
I inched my hand higher on her side, allowing Jill to work on my belt. I’d wanted to fuck her from the moment she showed up at my front door, that hopeful look on her face, but I also wanted more from Jill.
&nbs
p; I wanted her company. I wanted her to unburden her soul and let me take some of the weight for once, to tell me who Jill Anders really was and not what she was being portrayed as.
I wanted her to be happy. Damned if I knew why. She was trying to tear down the club and rock the foundation.
She was the enemy, but damn if she didn’t feel like it.
