by Jo Raven
His hand slides down the back of my neck, and I moan, unable to keep quiet. Oh shit. His thumb strokes my nape, and my dick fills out some more, lifting up from between my legs.
What the fuck? Why is he doing this?
God, don’t let him stop.
He strokes the back of my head, then his hands slide down my shoulders and to the front, over my chest, a thumb flicking at the piercing in my nipple, and hot need shoots straight to my cock.
An inarticulate sound leaves my throat, and my head falls back. My knees feel like rubber, unable to hold my weight.
And his hands travel over me, never touching my dick, circling my hips, smoothing over my back, over my ass, spreading the scent of apples and cleanness, water and warm skin until I don’t know what to do.
I grab for him, dizzy.
“Hey. All right?” He lets me hold on to him, on to his arms, as the water flows over me, warm and soft, melting away the tension, turning my muscles to jelly. It’s a wonder I’m still standing and haven’t oozed down to the floor in a puddle. “Jason.”
“’M all right,” I manage, but it’s wheezy. Fuck, I’m really wiped out, and the steam and heat of the water is making me loopy. Has to be that, because I think I hear worry in his voice, and that’s fucking crazy.
The guy hates me, hates the fact I’m a hooker, and that his brother dared spend any of his time on me when I was sick, and that was years ago.
I know all this.
It’s not helping with the way my mind keeps latching on every fucking word and gesture, turning it into something it’s not.
A rustle, his body moving even as he pushes me back against the wall, propping me there, then something soft falls over my head.
A towel.
He towels my hair off, and I can’t think or react. He throws a bigger towel over me and leads me out of the shower stall, stepping over a heap of soaked fabric. His pants, I realize, and wonder if I should pick them up, only he tugs me out of the bathroom, toward the living room.
Oh right. Okay, that’s fine. He didn’t want to keep fooling around in the shower, so we’re moving to the sofa. I’m sort of sleepwalking by now, but I can do this. Got it under control.
It’s just so warm, dammit. And the sofa he pushes me down onto is soft and smells vaguely familiar, of apples and Raine.
I blink as he grabs a pair of sweats from a chair and pulls them on, then blink again when he appears in front of me. Feels like I’m losing time.
“I’m gonna grab some dinner.” he says, looking down at me, and then walks away. His disembodied voice drifts over from the direction of the kitchen. “Didn’t eat anything tonight.”
Like I did? Heh. And the thought of food has my empty stomach cramping. Shit.
“Listen, Raine, I should get going…” I start, and stop.
I don’t wanna move yet. It’s so warm here… Warm and comfortable, and as a delicious smell starts wafting over from the kitchen, my stomach growls and twists with hunger. With my luck, by the time he comes back out, I’ll be drooling all over his sofa.
Yeah, I need to go. I make it to my feet, one hand braced on the back of the sofa since my legs still feel unsteady and the fucking room is spinning, when I remember that my clothes are wet and covered in puke and cum.
Fuck. I look down at myself, at the blue towel Raine has wrapped around my waist. Yep, I’ll have to put those stinky clothes back on and head out, pick up more customers.
“Hey.” Raine wanders back into the living room, sets something on the coffee table. A pan. “Did you have dinner? This lasagna’s pretty good.”
His words hang in space, floating like small balloons, unable to sink in.
Lasagna.
Dinner.
My stomach growls again, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet. “Uh, look…”
“Eat with me.” His gaze nails me, steel in his eyes, and I wonder what he’s pissed off about now. Then he shakes his head. “Sit. There’s enough for both of us.”
I blink at his handsome face, my heart thumping an uneven rhythm in my chest. “Okay, sure.” Christ, I hope my voice doesn’t betray me. “Thanks.”
Far be it from me to refuse a free dinner, and the smell’s killing me. He places a fat piece of lasagna on a plate, fluffy white and thick red sauce pooling, and it’s like food porn.
I swallow hard and sit back down.
He pushes the plate my way, together with a fork, and nods. “Dig in.”
It smells delicious, and I’m stuffing my face before he’s even served himself a plate. It’s hot, and holy shit, it melts in my mouth.
I barely notice when he turns on the TV on low and mutters something about channels and series and shit. Background noise. It doesn’t bother me—and since when am I so comfortable in Raine’s home?
Fuck it. I shovel in the food, barely pausing to breathe, moaning and not giving a shit. So damn good.
Then a doubt strikes me, and I pause with the fork halfway to my mouth.
Is this even real? Maybe I’m curled up in my sleeping bag, behind the dumpster, dreaming lasagna dreams.
Christ.
In that case I’d better hurry the hell up before the dream ends, right?
“There’s more.” Raine sits down beside me before I can speak. “Gimme your plate.”
He heaps another huge, steaming piece on it and I accept it gratefully. “Thanks.”
“Kayla cooked it, not Shun, so I think we’re safe. My brother thinks he can cook but…” He shudders. “Even raised on cat food, I can’t always digest what he makes.”
I pause in the process of inhaling the lasagna and stare at him. “Cat food?”
He shrugs. “I told you about my dad.”
Right. “You sure did.”
Downstairs, before we came up, sitting inside his pick-up truck. Thing is, I was in a bit of a fog then—cold, and tired, and stressed out.
Not that my mind’s much clearer now, sitting here warm and comfortable with a full belly—and with him so close. Yeah, even food can’t distract me from the bare-chested hottie beside me.
He has very little ink for someone who works in a tattoo shop. Hell, someone whose brother is a tattoo artist. Just a line of text on one hard pectoral that I haven’t been able to read, and a band on a thick biceps that flexes when he lifts the fork to his mouth.
My mouth goes dry, watching him eat, watching the strong lines of his body, his beautiful face shadowed by the fall of his dark hair, his golden skin so tempting, making me want to run my fingers and my tongue all over him.
“So… you had a hard childhood,” I mutter.
I dunno why I feel the need to comment, show I’m listening. Feels like it’s the least I can do after he fed me dinner. And washed me. And… shit, this is fucked-up.
He swallows, puts his fork down in the plate. “It was okay. I had my brother. And Livvy. Until…”
I wait, but he’s silent, staring down at his half-eaten food.
And despite the fact that my first thought is to ask if I could finish it, if he doesn’t want it, I find myself asking, “Until what?”
He rubs a hand over his face. “Ocean sent me away to my aunt, and our folks kicked him out to the street.”
Fuck. Sounds like a page taken out of my own story. Which sucks ass.
The few days I spent in the company of Raine’s brother years ago, and the times I met him afterward, he never offered any details about his past. Or Raine’s. I assumed it meant there was nothing noteworthy about it, that they were normal kids, raised by a normal family.
Not by wolves, like me.
“I’m sorry,” I offer, cuz that’s all I’ve got.
He nods, and he’s quiet. The TV is humming in the background, and I glance at it, my belly so full I feel vaguely sick. There’s a bite of lasagna left on my plate and I make myself eat it. Can’t waste good food. Then I wonder if it’s okay to lick the sauce off the plate.
Hm… The room is darkening. I give a slow blink, jolt when my for
k thunks down on the plate.
Damn.
“You ever watch this series?” Raine asks, and I struggle to focus on his words. These past few nights I barely slept a wink and it’s catching up on me. “Shadowhunters. Fantasy and all that shit, if you like it.”
“Uh sure. Mayleen likes it. It’s all right.”
“Mayleen?”
“A friend. We watch TV sometimes when I crash at her place.”
“Why, where do you normally sleep?”
I rattle off the intersection, trailing off at the end because rhe room does that darkening thing again. Either I’m falling asleep or passing out, not sure which.
“You rent a room?”
I rub a hand over my eyes. It ain’t helping. “Nah, I got a sleeping bag. Unless Mayleen can put me up, you know. If she doesn’t have a customer.”
Keeping my eyes open takes up all my focus. The music soundtrack from the TV is like a fucking lullaby.
Hush… hush, little baby…
Raine makes a funny sound in his throat, and I blink. “Shun said you’re renting a room.”
Ah fuck. Forgot about that. “Not at the moment.” It comes out a bit slurred. And it strikes me as funny. “Jesus.”
“What?” He sort of catches me, and that’s when I realize I’d been sliding sideways.
“Nothing. No money left over, man.” I’m warm with his arm around me. His fingers slide through my hair. “I got nothing…”
“It’s okay,” he whispers, or I think he whispers, unless I’m dreaming already. “I’ve got you, Jase.”
Yeah, most definitely just a dream.
Figures.
Chapter Fifteen
Raine
This wasn’t the plan.
Bringing Jason home with me—again. Showering with him, getting off. Then sharing dinner with him and having him fall asleep on me.
He’s predictably gone when I wake up, my neck stiff, curled up on the too-short sofa, but the memory of his body against mine lingers. It was… fucking sweet to have him lean on me, look at me with something else than annoyance and defiance. To see him peaceful, his face relaxed, looking so damn young and handsome.
And too thin. He’s too fucking thin, like he keeps losing weight with every passing day, and knowing he sleeps on the street on top of everything, out in the cold… it’s really gotten me worried.
Shit.
The image of him at that goddamn corner, coughing and shivering, is playing on a loop in my mind as I finish up my work at Collateral, and grab a bite before heading on to my second job.
Has he eaten anything today? Is he wearing his jacket? Dammit, that jacket’s too thin for this weather. Does he own any thick sweaters?
Where does he sleep when it rains and snows? How will I know if he needs a place to stay? Why didn’t I ask for his phone number? Why didn’t I give him mine?
Shit, I’m going nuts. I want to talk to Ocean about this, but then I’d have to tell him that I’ve been paying Jason for sex.
Or whatever it is we’re doing.
And now that I recall, I didn’t pay him last night.
Fuck. No idea what I thought I was doing. Normally he gets me so fucking pissed, and okay, horny, too—but mainly angry, not that I really know why, and last night… Last night it wasn’t like that.
Last night puts a twist in my chest, and a spring in my step, and I just can’t fucking forget about it. Whatever that was.
Afternoons I work at a small movie theater. I’m behind the counter, selling tickets, popcorn, candy, and drinks. Then I clean a bit, check that everyone is sitting quietly inside, not making a mess, and then I wait while the movie is playing.
Gives me way too much time to think.
And worry.
And want.
Jason’s mouth opening to mine, his taste, his body moving against mine, slick and strong and hot, his moans, his grip on my arms, bruising. As if he needed me. Wanted me.
I rub at the dark bruises marking my forearms underneath the fabric of my shirt, and drop my head on top of the counter. I’m hard, and fucking confused.
I should have shaken him, demanded answers. What is he doing with Shun’s and Jesse’s money if he’s not renting a room? Should I talk to them, tell them about this?
They don’t know, do they? Wouldn’t they have said something about it?
But why would they talk about him to me, when I never wanted to hear it, and Ocean thinks I hate Jason? I never told him the truth.
That I never hated him. That I was only confused and jealous. Because as it turns out, I’d wanted Jason for myself, from the moment I laid eyes on him.
Wanting another guy is a sin, according to my aunt. She gave up trying to beat the shit out of me after she realized I was growing tall and strong fast, but she never missed a chance to tell me I’d burn in hell.
Imagine hearing that for years, and then seeing Jason Vega in front of you for the first time.
Striking. Infuriating. Dangerously hot.
Broken.
Perfect.
I never thought I’d see him again after that, much less have him naked in my living room, in my arms, that he’d be on my mind day and night, not letting me rest. That he’d make me not care if I’ll burn in hell or not for a chance to touch him, and kiss him.
That the thought of seeing him again, touching him, is so damn exciting everything else fades.
I’m so fucked…
Cruising down the familiar street, I look for a certain tall, dark-haired, sexy hooker. Just to pay what I owe him for last night, I tell myself.
I’m a shitty liar.
My cell phone starts ringing as I approach Jason’s corner, and I think about how he said he sleeps there. It’s raining, fat drops thumping on the windshield. I grit my teeth and keep driving. I’ll find him.
And my damn phone keeps ringing, so I lift it to my ear and slow down. “Yeah?”
“Hey, R. Whatcha doing tonight?”
I grin. “What’s up, Shun?”
My brother huffs. “Thought you might wanna come over for a drink. Kayla is going out with the girls, and I thought we could go out just us guys, play pool or something.”
It sounds good. I’ve barely seen him these past weeks, caught up in work and then Jason. But I hesitate.
“Seth and Shane already said yes,” he says. “Micah and Jesse Lee will let me know. Asher and Tyler might be there, too. Come on.”
Yeah, it sounds awesome. I slow the truck almost to a halt, staring at the corner where Jason usually stands.
Empty.
“Nah, I… I can’t tonight.”
“Shit, really? Why not? Got some hot guy lined up and waiting for you at home?”
“Fuck you, asshole,” I say affectionately. “I’m just tired.”
“I was gonna ask next if it was that Gary guy.”
“Nah. Didn’t work out.”
Trust Ocean to accept the fact I’m into guys and not chicks without batting an eye. Then again, he told me that he’d always known.
“You all right? You haven’t been around much lately.”
“I’m fine, I promise. I just didn’t sleep well last night.” What with said hot guy in my arms, fast asleep, his short silky hair tickling my nose, his scent mixed with my shampoo.
“Why? You’re not having nightmares again?”
I blink. “Shit, man. That was long ago.” Nightmares about the accident, and Livvy’s death. Not that I don’t still have them sometimes, but nothing like before. “I promise I’m good. Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll do something together.”
“Okay. Sure.” He’s quiet for a beat. “You swear, fucking swear you’d tell me if anything was wrong, R, yeah? I’ve failed you too many times in the past. Can’t stand the thought you’re going through something bad, and I don’t know about it.”
Damn. A knot forms in my throat, and when I speak, my voice sounds weird. “I swear, man. And you never failed me. When will you believe it? You
’re the reason I’m alive, and sane.”
“I don’t know.” Still quiet. “You didn’t talk to me for years, and I just…”
Fuck.
It’s been three years since I turned eighteen and left our aunt to come live here, but Ocean still feels guilty, and that’s my fault.
“I’m sorry.” I sigh. “You did your best by me. I shouldn’t have given you hell over it all.”
And why are we doing this by phone? I should go over there, see my brother, give him a hug and go shoot pool with him and the guys.
But movement on the sidewalk catches my eye, and I freeze, recognizing one of the two silhouettes in the rain.
It’s Jason.
“I gotta go now,” I tell Ocean. “We’ll talk.”
I hang up before he can reply, throw the door open and jump out of the truck. Jason’s talking to this guy in a suit. The guy has an umbrella open over his head, but Jason’s standing in the cold rain that’s falling like razorblades on my face, stinging.
“Jason! Hey!” I call out, striding toward them, pissing mad.
Again.
The man with the umbrella turns toward me. He’s middle-aged, with a goatee, and that reminds me of Gary and the fact I never returned his calls and text messages after I ran out on him in that restaurant.
