“And then you went to foster care?”
“Yep. That started a string of homes. They weren’t all bad, and I was a good kid, kept my head down and stayed out of trouble.”
We sit like this, talking for hours, and I don’t know which one of the two of us falls asleep first, but the last thing I remember are those crystal-clear blue eyes looking softly at me as if there’s something she wants to tell me.
Chapter 6
I don’t know if it’s the music, the sensual vibe of the club, or just June, but I can’t keep my hands off her. She’s been gone for two weeks for work, and we’ve been texting constantly. This morning the judge at my hearing yelled at me for looking down at my phone and missing what he’d said. So to say I’m excited to see her tonight is an understatement.
Currently she’s pressed against my office door at Panic. Hands everywhere, nails clawing at my closely shaved head, her legs wrapped around me—I swear, the woman is trying to climb me. “Please say I can fuck you right here, right now. Please, Junebug. Say you want it,” I plead into her neck between kisses. “Woman, you’re driving me fucking crazy.”
My hand cups the back of her neck, and I know I’m being rough and commanding. But I’m desperate to be inside of her. She nods her head, and with that I take control. From what I’ve learned about her in the last few weeks, she’s the kind of woman who likes to be in control herself. But even if there is always a brief war of control, eventually she relents and lets me take the lead. She has to know I’ll always make sure she’s taken care of and satisfied. “Can you be really quiet?” she whispers in my ear, so softly I almost miss it.
“Can you?” I ask challengingly.
With one arm still holding on to me, she uses the other one to push the scattered items off my desk. And I don’t give a fuck what just broke—all I care about is how fast I can get my cock inside of her. Flipping her around, I pull her dress up, slide her panties down, and push her chest down onto the cold glass of my desk. “Be a good girl and don’t make any sounds,” I whisper in her ear.
Even though my plan was to fuck her immediately, I can’t help myself when I see her with her dress over her hips and her ass in the air. So, instead, I kneel down and bury my face in her pussy. An almost unexpected moan escapes her lips, loud and pained-sounding. I can’t help but chuckle at her need and the fact she’s already being loud.
“I can’t believe you’re laughing!” she whispers. “Your tongue is inside of me. You can’t laugh!” She says this so quietly I can hardly hear.
She’s hanging on to the desk, and I can see how she’s biting her lips to keep from making any more noises, eyes shut tight. The look of pleasure sets me off. I can’t stand it any longer—I get back up and undo my zipper. Next is the sound of my belt hitting the floor, and then I’m no longer waiting. I’m pushing inside her.
Hard.
Relentlessly.
I have no more self-control. And she’s too far gone too. She’s trying so hard to be quiet, and I lean over her and whisper, “Shh…”
She turns her head slightly. “I’m being qui—”
And then I slap her ass cheek. The loud crack reverberates around the room. She opens her mouth to yell, but I cover her mouth with my hand and start pumping into her in earnest now. The table moves forward in the process and a few papers fall down as her pussy tightens so hard around my cock, it’s almost painful.
“Holy shit,” I grunt as I come just as hard, collapsing over her. “Damn.”
I’m destroyed. There’s no way anyone who got a look at our faces would doubt we’d just been fucking like two crazed animals. When I pull out of her, I see the wetness—all that is us mixed together—slide down her leg. “Jesus, that looks sexy.”
She’s quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet. I reach into a drawer and pull out some napkins. “You okay?” I ask as she tries to stand up.
“Shh,” she snaps, which leaves me completely confused. Is she mad?
“Wait.” I lift her up, turn her around, and set her on my desk, parting her legs and cleaning her up. “There you go, sweetheart. Good as new.” I kiss her lips, but it’s unreturned. “June? What’s going on?” I help her down and she rights her clothes, as do I.
“Can you just…stop talking for a second?” she says in a whisper against my ear. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”
“Okay.” I have no idea what is happening. “I have to go take care of something real quick downstairs. I’ll come back for you and we’ll go down together.”
She’s still whispering. “Go. I’ll wait here.”
I just stare at her, trying to figure out what’s going on. I don’t ask her anything because she apparently doesn’t want to talk, or maybe she just doesn’t want me to talk. I have no fucking clue. She looks over my shoulder, lost in thought. “I’m fine. Just need a minute, okay?” She kisses my cheek and heads to the bathroom.
There’s a new DJ starting today, and I need to introduce her to Blue so that she can show her the ropes. It doesn’t take long, and when I come back up, she’s lying casually and comfortably on my couch texting.
“Am I allowed to talk now?”
I must’ve surprised her because she almost drops her phone before shooting upright and shoving her phone into her purse. I’m not a jealous guy, but I’m feeling a little uncertain after what happened and the fact that she’s on her phone so often. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened. I…I think it was the music from downstairs, the window, the public setting. I’m not used to this kind of thing. I’m usually pretty vanilla, Matt, and you just caught me off guard.”
“Okay. I get that. You could have said that. I would’ve stopped.”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t want you to stop.” She waves her hands around the room. “Can we forget that? It was a bad reaction. I’m sorry.”
“It’s cool.” I cup her face. “I like you, June. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or push you too far. Please, promise me you’ll tell me next time.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you next time, but really, I’m okay now. Things just got…intense.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. “Yeah. So fucking intense.” I’m happy to know I’m not the only one feeling it, and it makes sense why she reacted the way she did. “I know you’re probably tired from traveling, but can you stay? I’ll try to leave early, then we can go to my apartment.”
She hesitates for a moment. “Yes. I’ll stay.”
“Great. You hungry?”
“A little.”
“Okay, I’ll order food. I gotta go help out downstairs again, they’re slammed. You want to hang out here or go down?”
“Here, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay, sweetheart.” I kiss her lips and head down, ordering takeout on my way.
—
“You do realize we’ve been dating for four months but have only seen each other maybe half that time,” I tell June via FaceTime.
We’ve gotten into a routine where she travels during the week and stays with me on weekends, but sometimes she’s out of town even on weekends. When she’s here, she’ll come with me to the club and hang out while I work. One day when I’d had a particularly bad loss with a case, she surprised me by driving the forty-five minutes up to Fort Lauderdale and staying the night. I’m getting used to having her around when I’m in Miami, and I wish there was a way to have her around during the week too. But now she’s been gone for over three weeks and I’m in a shitty mood. Our relationship has consisted of the best moments of my life followed by June traveling and me being moody.
“I’m sorry. Work is crazy right now.”
“All the time? Even weekends?”
“Not every week. Relax—I’m boarding the plane soon. I don’t give you a hard time when you’re working—which, by the way, is all the time—so don’t do it to me.” I can tell she’s getting pissed at me.
“I’m not trying to stress you out or pick a fi
ght. I don’t want you to feel you have to choose work over me. But I never pictured my first relationship as a long-distance one.”
“Relationship…that’s not something we’ve ever talked about. Is that what this is?” That question makes me furious, but I swallow the anger. For the first time, I wish we weren’t on FaceTime, just on a voice call. I don’t want her to see my expression, which will surely give me away.
“Of course we are. Did you think we weren’t? Wait, are you fucking someone else?”
“No!” She scowls, her eyes slits. “We just haven’t had that conversation, and I didn’t want to presume. And we are not long-distance—stop saying that.”
“Baby, I haven’t seen your face or felt your body in twenty-two days. If that isn’t long-distance, what the hell is it?”
“I’ll be there in three hours, I promise.”
“You sure this time? You talk to your boss, work that shit out, or I’m on the first plane out on Friday.” Last weekend she was supposed to come home, but her boss gave her a new client at the last minute and she had to stay.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you soon, woman.”
“Can’t wait.”
“I just miss my Junebug, is all.”
She gives me a sweet smile before saying goodbye. When I’m alone, I slam my cell down and pace my office. I have a shitload of things to do. Nick’s up my ass to help out more, but every time I try to help, he shuts me down. I haven’t seen June in so long, and…I’m just in a mood. I sit back and look out the window that faces the club.
I roll my head side to side. The stress is getting to me. I open my drawer. I haven’t touched any drugs in months, but tonight the urge is strong. So strong I almost succumb to it, which is why I grab the stuff and rush to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet. Then I get a Red Bull and head downstairs. Maybe keeping busy at the bar will get my mind off all the things I have to do at the firm and here at Panic.
I’ve already worked it out with Nick and the rest of the employees so that I can leave early. I’ve never missed another human being as much as I’ve missed June. I hope she doesn’t plan on leaving again for some time. I left her a spare key with the doorman in my building, and knowing she’s in my apartment waiting for me makes me feel elated. I kind of want her to move in with me, stay in my apartment all the time while she’s here. Maybe that’s something we can talk about tonight. It might seem a little hasty because we’re rarely together, but really, we’ve known each other for over four months now and I’m ready for more.
“Junebug?” I say as I close the door. There’s no answer and I’m about to call out again when I see a leg hanging off the side of my sofa. Seeing that she’s sound asleep, I walk over to her and crouch down on my knees, taking a moment to look at her and then kiss her forehead. She’s so damn gorgeous. I lift her, noticing that she’s lost some weight, and I take her to my room and tuck her in. Then I go about getting ready for bed, it’s just after midnight, and I’m exhausted. Even though I had planned a much sexier reunion, getting to sleep next to her is just as good, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The next morning, I wake up to the fire alarm going off. I jump out of bed and run out of my room, tripping over June’s bag by the door along the way. “Ow! Fuck.”
She’s standing on a chair fanning the smoke detector closest to the kitchen. “What happened?” I demand.
“I burned the bacon. I was trying to make you breakfast in bed.”
There’s a knock on the front door. “Get that, will you? It’s probably the maintenance guy. And open the doors to the balcony,” I add as I turn on the fan over the stove.
A moment later she’s back. “I told him everything was fine,” she yells over the alarm.
Finally it stops its irksome noise.
“Sorry,” she says coyly.
“Come here.” I pull her against me. “Kiss me. Tell me good morning, woman.”
“Good morning.” Her voice is so sexy. “I missed you so much. And I burned all your food.”
“I see that.” I laugh. “I’m not hungry for food, though.”
“Oh…Oh!” she exclaims with a smile and a yelp as she runs to the bedroom, disrobing on the way. I rush after her.
“Woman, I want to have all of you. I want to fucking own you.” I think a growl or some sort of feral groan escapes my lips. “Every single part of you.”
—
The next twelve hours are a blur of sex and takeout, and as I’m tying the knot on my tie to get to the club I realize that never in my life have I been this happy before.
“You’re coming or staying in tonight?” I ask, knowing the answer by the fact that she’s playing Sudoku on her phone, wearing one of my T-shirts, and lying lazily on my bed.
“Staying.”
As I place a knee on my bed to kiss her goodbye, I take her in—really take her in—for the first time. She looks tired and her cheeks have hollowed out.
“Are you okay?” I ask, feeling her forehead for a fever.
“Yeah, fine.” She yawns.
“Do you want me to order you some food? I can make you a sandwich. You didn’t eat much today.” I noticed she played with the chicken lo mein but didn’t really eat it.
“I’m good. I’m not too hungry. I think I’m just going to catch up on some sleep.”
“ ’Kay, baby. See you later.”
The club isn’t too packed tonight, which is unusual for a Saturday night. Nick came in a few minutes ago with David, our mutual friend, and they’re downstairs with their girlfriends at the VIP area, which is unusual. Normally when he’s not working, Nick doesn’t hang out at the club. I’m reviewing some contracts upstairs, but I have a niggling feeling that hasn’t left since I walked out the door of my apartment. I don’t want to call June and wake her, so I decide to wrap it up and head home.
I walk inside my house to total silence, which is expected since it’s almost one in the morning. I take a quick shower and quietly slide into bed. When I pull her close she groans, and then I feel how warm she is. “Hey, I think you have a fever. You okay?”
She groans again and clutches her stomach. “I’m fine.”
I reach over and switch on the lamp. She’s curled up into a tiny ball. Her hair is sticking to her face and she looks pale. “No. You’re not.”
“Can you grab my purse, please?” she asks through gritted teeth, and I practically sprint to the other side of the room to get her purse and hand it to her. She sits up, looking pained, and I wish there was something I could do.
“What’s going on? The flu, maybe? It’s been going around.”
With shaky hands she takes out a prescription bottle and pops two pills. I jog to the kitchen and bring her back a glass of water she didn’t even ask for, and she takes it. “Migraine? Sore throat? What’s up?”
“No, it’s my stomach.”
“What did you eat yesterday? Maybe it was the food on the plane.”
Her eyes are shut and she kicks off the blankets, although her teeth are chattering. “Not from the plane,” she whimpers.
“So what is it? Maybe we should go to the hospital? What can I do?”
“Let me sleep,” she whispers.
What the hell is going on? My heart is pounding and I realize maybe I don’t know her as well as I think I do. She’s shivering, clearly in pain, and on prescription meds. She scoots into me and I tuck her in close, petting her hair and rubbing her flat belly, which seems to soothe her. Eventually the harsh lines between her eyebrows smooth out, her fists stop clenching, and her breathing evens out.
She may be fast asleep, but I’m a wreck. Carefully I slide out of bed and go through her purse, looking for the bottle of pills. I know she’ll be mad I snooped, but better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission, right? What if she needs medical care? I’d need to know what’s going on.
All these justifications are running through my mind as I read the label, which is absol
utely no help at all because I have no idea what the medicine is. All I understand about it is the directions: take for pain as needed.
Pulling up my phone, I Google the name of the drug and find all sorts of things about it. It seems to be some sort of pain reliever for stomach cramps and ulcers. Okay, so maybe it’s just an ulcer and I overreacted. Nick lives on ulcer tablets, because of the stress. I tuck the bottle back in her purse, slide into bed, and go back to sleep feeling a little better.
I normally wake up a lot later on the weekends, since I work until the middle of the night. So I’m surprised she’s still asleep when I wake up at midday on Sunday. I run my palm along her forehead and it’s not warm like it was last night. I’m still worried, though. She stirs and opens her eyes, a small sweet smile spreading across her face.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning.”
“How do you feel today?”
“Better. Thanks. Sorry about last night.”
“Don’t be sorry. I was worried.”
She swings her legs over the bed and goes to the bathroom. A minute later I follow her inside. “What am I missing here? There’s something you’re not telling me.” She has a toothbrush in her mouth and is looking at me in the mirror in front of her. “I’m worried. Whatever it is, just tell me—what’s the big deal?”
“It’s no big deal, really. I’ve got this thing that gets a little exacerbated when I’m stressed.”
“Thing? What thing?”
“It’s a condition called Crohn’s disease.” She rinses out the toothpaste and uses a hand towel to dry her face, then starts to walk out of the bathroom as if she didn’t just drop a bomb.
My mom was never in the picture. She had Crohn’s disease and died from an infection soon after I was born.
I grab her forearm and stop her. She’s running again.
“Matt…” It looks like it took all her will to get the word out. This is clearly hard for her, and she’s not comfortable talking about it. But we’re building something here. I want her to feel comfortable with me.
Make Me Stay: The Panic Series Page 8
