Dirty Angel (The List #2)

by N. K. Love

  Life is about finding the right balance for the right reasons. With my love life, I thought I’d achieved the right balance but it was definitely for the wrong reasons. It’s going to take some reassessing and soul searching for me to be able to strip back the layers and expose what I truly want.

  Jax takes my plate and holds my hand to help me up. I happily let him even though I know that it’s unnecessary because the pain in my back is more like a dull ache now with these strong painkillers. I hold onto his forearm as we walk back up to the house. He discards our plates and glasses on the side and takes me around the side of the house, through the small gate and into the yard.

  We head to the biggest of the outbuildings. There are tinted windows, similar to his car, so you can’t quite see in. He unlocks the door and reveals a modern kitted out gym. I would’ve guessed he’d have a gym but not outside. It’s awesome. Oh yeah—that explains the not-so-random shower now too.

  The roof features a row of large skylights capturing the sunlight and bouncing it off the mirrored wall. The cardio machines—a rower, treadmill, cross-trainer and bike—are set up facing away from the entrance towards a further set of bi-folding panels across the width of the gym. These panels are dual functioning; letting the fresh air circulate around the room whilst offering natures fine views to join you whilst you slip into your zone.

  Jax goes to a shelving unit in the corner and gets a tube of heat rub out of one of the drawers. Whilst I marvel aloud at his set up, he lies me down across the weights bench, lifts my top up and massages in the waxy textured treatment. I’m instantly taken back to the massage at 24/7. Again, he takes his sweet time and I relish every second listening to him getting technical about how and why it helps with muscular pains and bruising. I get the feeling that he is trying to distract us from the sexual tension. It’s practically crackling between our skin. Does he think I don’t pick up on it?

  When he finishes he decides to push some weights and I think he expected me to wander off and explore so he’s amused when I take a seat in the corner. My face tells him openly that there’s no way I’m going to pass up the opportunity to admire my favourite view of all.

  After blatantly staring whilst fantasizing about the damage that body could do to me, I notice a touchscreen tablet fitted into the wall, which I guess is for music but God knows where the speakers are. I point at it and Jax nods between 280lb presses, which I take as approval for me to play DJ.

  I’m soon distracted, flicking through his personal playlists and browsing the albums in the library. I’m pretty impressed because we appear to share a similar, fairly eclectic, taste. There’s reggae, hip-hop, R&B, dance, UK grime and even one of my favourite motown albums. The only stuff I’m not familiar with is Jamaican bashment and a playlist he’s made called afrobeats.

  I find some old skool tunes from years ago that remind me of student life, blasting out music whilst studying, not a care in the world.

  Before I know it, I’ve been trawling and sampling through music for an hour and Jax has finished working out.

  He throws his sweat towel over one shoulder.

  “You enjoying yourself?”

  “The music or admiring the view?”

  I brazenly use that as an excuse to let my eyes wander all over his body. Mm-huh. Jax plus sweat is always a sight for sore eyes but more than ever when he is up so close that I can smell him. Oh my God, is that tragic? Feeling frisky over a man’s sweat.

  Jax looks down at his own body and back up to me. “If you’ve finished, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “I’ve got to go out a bit later on so do you wanna grab something quick to eat in a bit and then I can bring us a take away home tonight?”

  “Don’t feel like you need to accommodate me. I already feel terrible intruding on you as it is. I’m easy, honestly.”

  “It’s no trouble and I don’t want to have to reassure you again. Oh and you’re far from easy Angel… Come on, I’ll show you to your room first and then you can make yourself at home.”

  Chapter Seven

  10:20pm

  Whoops... That’s the bottom of the bottle of wine I bought with me from home. I’m not going to make a start on Jax’s collection of alcohol though, at least not without him! My back feels so much better and I’m getting used to using one hand but things like putting my bra on have proved testing; Jax had to fasten it for me when I got changed at home earlier. Thankfully I only put on a tracksuit, thinking something loose would make sense, save me bothering with buttons and zips when I need the toilet. But I’ve bought a mixture of different clothes because I’ve no idea what’s going on or what the weather’s going to be like or how many days I’ll stay here.

  I’ve been lying on the rug in the living room listening to music from my phone and drinking. I’ve closed all the blinds and curtains because the windows were starting to freak me out but the alcohol has distracted me nicely.

  I couldn’t work out the gadgets on the wall for the TV or stereo. Before he left, Jax told me that I could link my phone up to the TV somehow but I’ve not got a clue and I don’t want to risk breaking anything or messing up his setup.

  On my first glass I called my parents for a catch up but decided not to upset them with the whole cheating saga. The time will come but that isn’t now. I told Mom about Wills being away and that I’m stopping with another friend for the company. I enjoy listening to my mom telling me what they’ve been up to this week; it’s a lovely diversion from my here and now.

  On my second glass, I silenced my optimism in favour of spontaneity and called Mike. Unsurprisingly the poor excuse for a man doesn’t even have the gumption to answer. It was probably for the best. I managed to resist the fierce temptation to launch a foul-mouthed tirade on his voicemail or send him a few abusive text messages.

  Imagine if I’d actually had a child with him. It was probably my baby blinkers that enabled him to get away with cheating in the first place. I’ve been too wrapped up in my fakeass fairy tale to wake up and smell the rotting carcass of lies.

  At what point did he reach that crossroad where he knew if he turned one way—the cheating route—that there’d be no going back? He chose to take that wrong turn knowing that I, his wife, would be dragged along behind him as what? Collateral damage? He gave up on our marriage and played me for a mug by feeding me the pathetic scraps, the leftovers of himself and having me believe that our relationship was forever. But in reality, it wasn’t forever, it was destined to be fornever the second he laid his hands on another woman.

  I am determined to be strong even though what he’s done is so wrong.

  Miss Sensible seems to think that speaking to Mike isn’t going to achieve anything now because there’s nothing he can say that would make everything suddenly okay. By asking questions about why, who and when, is that signing myself up for more pain, like self-harming, self-inflicted torture? Or do I need the answers to gain closure?

  The optimistic attitude I found in the yard earlier, returned and replayed in my head. I’m far from the point of thanking him, but the sentiment is there because when I step back and think of the bigger picture, I’m grateful for this new lease of life. I’ve been set free and there’s nothing—accept maybe myself—holding me back.

  The huge negative hole called Mike is out of my life and is already being replaced with positive experiences that I would never have been blessed with if I was still with him.

  Fuck him. Roll on twenty-three months… Actually… Given our deplorable change in circumstances, this means I can file for divorce on the grounds of Mike committing adultery. I’d have to prove it, which means he’d have to own up and put it in writing. That wouldn’t go down well with his parents or do him any favours in his line of business. No, I’ll have to take some time out to think about how I’m going to approach this.

  After deciding that thoughts of divorce were far too complex for wine o’clock, I filled my glass for a third time.
This time I surfed through my social media apps and saw Wills was online. We exchanged some messaging about her flight and how her mom’s coping. She asked about last night so I told her briefly—she called immediately.

  Once she was satisfied that I’m genuinely okay, she went on a verbal rampage slating Mike and cursing his behaviour. I didn’t join her but I didn’t disagree with her either. After she’d gotten everything off her chest, she apologised and then coaxed out the entire story – minus ‘The Kiss’ – including the punch, which she was utterly pleased about. This led on to the fact Jax took me to the hospital and then the inevitable news that I am now staying with him. I actually closed my eyes, pre-empting her response. But instead of taking that as her cue to interrogate me, she just told me how happy she is that he’s taking care of me in her absence and drops in subtly that she trusts my intuition.

  That is why this girl is my best fucking friend.

  Of course I know she has merely parked that conversation for another time but right now, to her, that’s all that matters. Her parting words remind me how much I am missing her. She told me not to relapse into overthinking because even though I’ve already started my next chapter, it’ll never progress if I keep stopping to re-read the last one. She’s completely right and it reinforces my strength and optimism. If I don’t let go of my past, it will strangle my future.

  I hear Jax’s car pull up and the electronic garage doors opening but I stay lying on the rug, enjoying the tingling impromptu anticipation bought on by his return.

  When he walks in, looking pleased with himself with a little extra sexy swag than usual, it takes him a few seconds to notice me lying on the floor. I’m on my front, glass in hand, swinging my feet behind me.

  “Hey G.” First taking in the cleavage on show, his eyes scan my body all over, heating it up as they go. Then he glances over at the empty bottle on the side and raises an eyebrow.

  “Good evening.” He smirks. There’s no smart-arse comment or the grief I’d become accustomed to from Mike when I’d had a drink. Not that I should be comparing the two of them but I can’t help acknowledge what a lovely refreshing change it makes.

  Jax continues walking past me into the kitchen with the bag of food he’s carrying. As the mouth-watering smell wafts behind him, it alerts my appetite and growling tummy.

  11:26pm

  Jax finishes his tandoori chicken. I’ve eaten the salad but just picked at the chicken; my eyes were obviously bigger than my stomach. Either that or my tipsy appetite was chasing a whole different kind of meat into the kitchen…

  When Jax starts opening another bottle of white, I notice blotches of blood on the sleeve of his tee. He had a black jumper on when he came in. When I ask if he’s okay, he’s not rude about it, but he dismisses it and leaves the room.

  I continue where he left off and then pour us both a glass of wine thinking it was odd, even for him.

  Fifteen minutes later, I hear Jax’s bare feet padding down the hallway back into the kitchen. He strolls in wearing a tight white sleeveless vest and grey jogging bottoms.

  Oh. My. Giddy. Giddy. Gosh.

  He must’ve had a quick shower because he goes over to the washing machine on the other side of the room and throws in a damp towel, followed by the clothes he’s just taken off. It gives me chance to admire—obsess over—his new look whilst being helplessly drawn in by the Jax Effect.

  How can two items of innocent clothing create such a guilty pleasure? And it does look like it’s definitely only two items too because from behind, those joggers are hugging his smooth backside and there’s no signs of any underwear.

  When he stands and turns, I see the joggers start at his hips and although they’re loose at the front, my eyes are drawn to the impressive bulge—crotch watch at its finest! I do my best to look away undetected but he stands still, facing me.

  My insatiable eyes don’t care because they continue their tour of Jax. His vest is more like second skin as it moulds around his defined abs and ridiculous Adonis belt. The ‘V’ line seems to be willing me to lift up his vest for closer inspection. I manage to avoid any further crotch watching and divert to his muscular painted forearms and biceps… Jeez, Beth, control yourself woman!

  I drop my rebuked eyes to the floor as Jax casually walks towards me to retrieve his wine. I can feel his eyes riveting to me.

  Even though I’m now staring at his bare feet, I’m zapped back to the welcome pressure of his erection grinding into my body last night. But right now, it’s different because it’s just us and the lights are on and he’s sober and I’m already overcome with my attraction to him.

  I’ve still got a mouthful of wine and I need to swallow but it’s been held captive in my mouth since the second he walked in the room. If I swallow now, with his eyes on me, he’ll know the ridiculous effect he has on me. So I fake another sip of wine and swallow, my stupidly loud gulp disturbing the silence. My heart is racing.

  I shakily hold out his glass by the stem whilst my relentless eyes slowly feast their way back up his body. There’s no point trying to hide it, he’s watched my eyes’ every move, he’s not stupid. I simply shake my head repeating over and over; Friends-that-flirt-friends-that-flirt-friends-that-fuck……ing-flirt…

  The wine is telling me that after the way that kiss felt last night, surely another would be okay, it’s just a kiss, right?… But of course Miss Sensible and sober is reciting the terms and conditions of the decision I made not to be sexually involved with him… Or at least until I’m more sexperienced. He is on pause for good reason Bethany! He’d eat you alive!

  Jax reaches out for the glass, overlapping my fingers with his, looking down at me. He arches his eyebrow inquisitively. “See something you like B?”

  Clearly he’s toying with me and I can’t blame him. I shake my head to snap me out of my trance and take a step back, sipping my wine. Jax thankfully wanders over to the back windows, giving me some much needed breathing space.

  I know he’s happy just to flirt but it’s a different ballgame for me when it’s just the two of us, in his home. The dynamics have changed; in a bar I can afford to be more risky with my words, dancing with him, even kissing him… because there’s no chance it’d go further in a roomful of people. But here, alone with him, it’s possible he could call my bluff and I think that’s what’s making me feel on edge.

  I like playful Jax so I need to lighten up. As long as we stays at arm’s-length apart, I’m sure my wine can manage some harmless flirting tonight and then maybe I’ll ease off the alcohol from tomorrow; keep a clear level head.

  “I’m just trying to work out if it’s a good or bad thing that I’m getting to see more of you—”

  “Well, it’s only fair I should expose a bit of flesh considering I’ve seen so much of yours… In fact, that reminds me of a certain debt owed by way of ‘payment in kind’…”

  Oh yeah. “You have me at a disadvantage G.”

  Holding up my strapped hand, giving him a nonchalant shrug. But his fiery facial expression tells me that he is on top flirting form tonight. Something that’d usually spur me on but instead it’s throwing me off.

  Jax strides back over to me, his energy pushing me another step back until I jolt against the kitchen work surface. He takes my glass from me and pretends to examine my left hand. “This one seems to be in perfect working order B, it poses many possibilities.”

  He holds my chin and brushes across my lips with his thumb. I can’t bring myself to look in his eyes so I focus on his mouth. “As does this witty little mouth of yours—so I’m sure they can manage a settlement between them.” He flashes me a smile which fades when he realises that my expression doesn’t match his playful intentions.

  I look up and lock into his gaze. This close proximity is almost unbearable. I’ve opened my mouth slightly and I don’t know if it’s so that I can breathe easier or because I want to graze my teeth across the pad of his thumb.

  Now, I’m blushing and my head’
s all foggy with wine. I search desperately for something witty to say to keep it light-hearted but words fail me. Who invited Miss Innocent to the party? Dammit I’m screwed!

  I must’ve slowly raised myself up onto my tiptoes at some point, maybe subconsciously to appear taller and more in control….but more likely so that I can bring my face closer to his. All this time, I can’t draw my eyes away from his even though I know they’re patently revealing everything I’m feeling. His gorgeous eyes flick between my left and right eye, reading me inside out and I just want to bolt to my room to hide.

  Now his face goes from playful to powerful as he moves his hands to grip my hips. I visibly catch my breath. In a slow smooth move he raises me up a little further and slides me backwards onto the work surface. We’re nearly at eye level now.

  “B, you’re so confusing—you say you don’t want me, but every time we play—which, incidentally, was your idea—your body contradicts you. How am I supposed to know what to do when this fucking body of yours—” He looks down my body, which is silently begging for him but I’m mentally fighting it.