by J. A. Huss
But it doesn’t even matter. She saw more than she should’ve. And she knows. At least she knows as much as we do.
“Can we go now?” I ask. “Did you see what you needed to see?”
And suddenly I’m angry with her. No, I’m pissed at her.
So I don’t wait. I just walk away.
“Jesse,” she calls.
But I can’t even wait long enough to call the elevator. I just punch the code for the fire stairs, open the door so hard it smashes against the wall with a bang, and take the steps three at a time back up to my floor.
“Jesse, wait,” Emma calls, following me. Her footsteps are soft, in stark contrast to my loud ones.
When I reach the landing I whirl around to face her. “You know what, forget it, Emma. Just…go on. Think what you want. Judge me, hate me, whatever. I brought you here because I thought we understood each other. I thought we had something. I thought, at the very least, you’d give me a fucking chance. Why? I don’t know. I should’ve known better. That little drugging and kidnapping stunt should’ve told me just how understanding you are. I didn’t leave you, OK? My fucking uncle died. I was a mess. My brother came and got me. Maybe I am a liar. Fine. I lied to your business partners when I fucked them. I told them whatever they wanted to hear to get what I wanted. How was I supposed to know a few days later I’d meet you? And then when I said all those things to you, I meant them because it was you.”
I pause and take a breath. See if she’s got anything to say.
She doesn’t.
But I’m not done yet.
“We’re good. OK? Everything that happened Friday night is forgotten. I never went to the hospital. Zach Photoshopped that toxicology report. I was lying. Again. So just go back to your life. Forget about me, and my family, and my fucked-up house.”
She’s three steps below me and she recoils back as I rant, so that I suddenly feel like a mountain of rage as I hover over her.
Her brown eyes are wide and there is no innuendo in her raised brows.
She’s conflicted. I see that. Maybe she wants to get on this ride with me. Maybe she doesn’t.
I point up the stairs. “You know what’s up there? At the top?”
She says nothing.
“Johnny. That’s who. Those cabinets were empty but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“What?”
I back up until I hit the wall of the landing and lean against it. So fucking tired of carrying this burden. She can still opt out. But if I tell her the rest, then she can’t opt out. She’s just in… whether she wants to be or not.
“Forget it,” I say. I want to walk away and leave her behind. But I don’t know if I could live with myself if I did that.
“Why?” she says.
“Why forget it?” I laugh. “Because trust me, it’s in your best interest. You don’t want to get involved with me.”
“Do you want to get involved with me?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Because you get to decide what’s best for me?” she says, taking a step up towards me. “You get the power?” Another step.
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
And then another step and we’re both on the landing. “Then explain it.”
“I can’t.”
“Because you don’t know? Or because you don’t want me to know?”
“Both.”
She stomps her foot. And in the echo of that stomp she says, “That makes no sense. Either you know, or you don’t.”
“I know enough not to tell anyone what I know.”
“You’re talking in circles.”
“Because you keep asking the same damn question. And I keep giving you the wrong answer.”
She takes another step towards me and now we’re very close. “You look different today. You look… dark. And angry. And maybe a little sad.”
I just shake my head but she closes the few inches between us and places her hands on my waist. A safe move. A move that says, I want more, but I need help to get there.
There’s not going to be an us. There’s not going to be any trips down to Key West for Saturday night dinners. There’s not going to be any more sailing, or diving, or sandbars, or sunsets, or stars.
She presses forward, her stomach against my cock. “Emma,” I say, placing a hand on her arm, fully intending on pushing her away.
“What?” she whispers, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss me.
I close my eyes and kiss her back. Falling into the feeling of her mouth. Getting lost in the taste of her tongue against mine. She tastes like berries. Like bright berry beaches filled with sun and sand.
God, I want her.
She pulls back from the kiss and takes my hand. “Will you show me your place? Or did I blow it?”
My eyes track up the stairs.
Not to my door, which is right there. But up, in that little gap that lets you see all the way to the top when you stand in just the right place in a stairwell. To Johnny’s floor. And the penthouse above it.
Can he hear us? Does he know what I’m doing? Is he even alive?
“Come with me,” I say, then lead her up the rest of the stairs and punch in the code to open the fire door into my lobby.
Zach is there waiting for us. Also frowning pretty deeply. “What?” I say. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Tabloid story developing.”
“What tabloid story?” Emma asks.
“How bad?” I ask.
“Don’t know yet.”
“What tabloid story?” Emma says again.
“Is she mentioned?”
“Oh, yeah,” Zach says.
“What are you two talking about? What’s going on?”
I look at Emma. Drugging and kidnapping aside, she’s a nice girl. Accomplished woman. Strong, smart, going places… beautiful.
Do I really think she’s gonna stick around for the Boston Brothers’ Shit Show?
And even if she did, what kind of man would allow her to get involved in a family like ours?
Why did I invite her over here? What was I thinking?
“Here,” Zach says. “This is what they’re showing right now.” He holds his phone out to me.
Emma leans in. “So?” she says, lifting her eyes up to Zach. “It’s just me walking into the building with you.”
Zach and I trade glances.
“Stop doing that, OK?” Emma says. “It’s insulting. If you two have something to say, just fucking say it.”
I realize I still have Emma’s hand. I give it a squeeze. Then I smile and say, “You’re right. It’s probably nothing.” I glance at Zach. “Hey, why don’t you fuck off for a while, eh? I’m gonna show Emma around.”
“Whatever,” Zach mutters. “You know where I am if you need me.”
He disappears around the corner to the left and I lead Emma to the right.
“What’s that way?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder.
“That’s Zach’s side of the floor. I had this place turned into two apartments for us, so this side is mine.”
“Hmmm. You really take care of him, don’t you?”
“I do my best,” I say, stopping in front of the tall, wooden double doors and punching in my key code. The lock beeps, lights up green, and then clicks open. “Well, this is me.”
We walk forward into my space. And look, there’s nothing weird or creepy about my apartment. It’s just a big space well designed with nice high-end furniture. That’s all.
I guess that’s why I thought having her over would be fine. I didn’t factor in the entrance. That’s where I fucked up. I didn’t see her approach from her point of view.
The building, the water wall, the cement moat, Zach, the metal detectors, every door has a fucking coded lock, my floor lobby, etc., etc., etc.
And it probably didn’t help that I had the lights off when she got out of the elevator. I thought she’d like the view. That’s the only reason it
was dark. I just… thought she’d see the view.
But that’s not what she saw.
She saw me.
The real me.
“This is nice,” Emma says, letting go of my hand so she can twirl in the center of the space and take it all in.
I don’t have much. I’m kind of a simple guy. There’s a gray, oversized sectional couch, a huge TV above the fireplace, a few side tables and chairs, and a cozy dining area in front of the windows. The floors are black concrete polished to a slick shine. The walls and rugs are gray and the trim and baseboards are black.
“Very bachelor pad,” Emma says.
“Yeah,” I say, pulling out my phone to text Zach. “I guess it is.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just asking Zach if there’s a good bottle of champagne lying around.”
“You don’t drink,” she says.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“I don’t want to drink without you.”
“Fine, I’ll ask him to bring us some non-alcoholic fizzy.” I smile at her as I put my phone away. Then take her hand again and pull her towards me.
She smiles at me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened back there. I just… it’s weird. Or maybe not. It’s just a lot to take in. People don’t live like this.”
“I know,” I say, slipping my arms around her waist until I’m holding her right up against my chest. I gaze down at her. Smile. And it’s a real smile. Because she was the one who got away. “Did you get your money’s worth this weekend, Ms. Dumas?”
“I did,” she says through a small chuckle. “It was fun. A lot of fun, actually. And I’m sorry it started out with you being drugged and kidnapped. I feel so stupid about that now.”
I shake my head. “Don’t feel stupid. You had feelings. And you took control of them. I can’t fault you for that.”
“You’re not the man I thought you were.”
“No?” I ask.
“No. Friday night you were this enigma. This mystery. This bad guy who needed to be trapped and taught a lesson. Until we had that conversation at the Tastee-Freez.”
That conversation feels like it happened in another lifetime. But it’s been two days. Just two days.
“Then on Saturday you were this player, ya know? This man who wanted to flex his muscles and teach me who was boss.”
“You showed me, didn’t you?”
She laughs. “I’m really glad I played along. Because yesterday was everything I knew we could be.” Her smile drops and she’s serious now. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. Yesterday felt like a do-over. It was the chance to relive that weekend when we first met.”
“And today?” I ask. “Who am I today?”
She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. “I don’t know. Some combination, I think. There’s definitely more to you than you let on.”
I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“But I’d like to,” she says. She looks down at my waist, places her hand flat on my stomach, then slides it up to my chest as she leans in to kiss me.
It’s wrong to kiss her back. But I do it anyway. I kiss her with all the passion she deserves.
Then everything happens at once.
Emma unbuckles my belt while I hold her face and kiss her mouth. Her hands grab my shirt, pull it out of my pants, and then her fingertips hastily unbutton it from the bottom up as I pull down the shoulders of her yellow dress until it reveals her beautiful breasts. It falls to her waist, then past her hips to the floor.
She drags my suit coat down my shoulders and a moment later it joins her dress. She quickly loosens my tie, unknots it, and whips it through my shirt collar.
And I get a little lost after that. Just stare at her as she pops the button on my pants, drags the zipper down, and reaches in to fist my cock.
It’s wrong. I do realize that. Because she doesn’t know enough to make this decision.
But I don’t care.
She starts to kneel, like she’s gonna suck my cock, but we’ve already been there and I’d like to try something new now.
So I take her hand and stop her. She shoots me a look of raised eyebrows. Not innuendo, either. There’s no more need for innuendo. It’s surprise.
“Come with me,” I say, holding her steady as she steps out of the puddle of dress at her feet. “You haven’t seen the bedroom yet.”
I’m not trying to impress her with my bedroom. It’s not even much to look at. Nice furnishings, just like the living area, but nothing more or less than that.
I just want to fuck her in a bed.
When we reach the closed door, I stop for a moment and twirl her around. Push her up against it, then press my body to hers. My shirt is open and I allow myself to get a little lost in the way we make skin-on-skin contact, her soft breasts against my hard muscle.
Then I kiss her hard. I demand that kiss. I own that kiss. I fist her hair and palm her breast, and she moans into my mouth as her hand finds the door handle and then we go crashing through—laughing and finding our balance as we continue kissing.
I push her backwards until she bumps into the bed, and then I make her sit and watch me as I slip my shirt down my arms.
She reaches for the waist of my pants and slips them down my hips as I kick off my shoes and let my pants fall to the floor.
“Commando, huh?” she says with a smirk.
“I come prepared,” I say, kicking the clothes away. Then fist my cock and give it a jerk as I bend down and unbuckle her sandals. All the while gazing into her eyes.
I want to memorize this moment so that one day, when I need it, I can pull it out and remember that I did something right. Something good.
Her shoe slips off in my hand, the other one comes off a few moments later.
And now the only thing left is her panties. They’re yellow lace. And for a moment I debate the merits of leaving them on. Just pulling them aside and slipping right past them.
I decide no. I’d rather have her completely bare.
So I lean forward as I rise up. Plant each hand on the mattress as I kiss her, forcing her to lie back on the bed. And then I drag those panties down her long legs and toss them over my shoulder.
I could eat her out. I’d like to eat her out. But I’d rather be inside her and I think she feels the same way because she doesn’t wait for me to make this decision. She just scoots her way up the bed, forcing me to crawl up her body after her. My cock thick and hard as it drags along the side of her inner thigh.
“Inside me, now,” she bosses.
I don’t even hesitate.
She spreads her legs, reaches for my cock and places it at her entrance. Everything is suddenly rushed, and desperate, and reckless.
There are no thoughts of birth control, or consequences, or tomorrow.
We are in the here and now. Alive with needs that must be met.
But when I enter her I force myself to slow down and enjoy it. Let her enjoy it too. I prop my arms up on either side of her shoulders and ease my hips forward.
She gasps when I slowly push deeper, clutching the rounded muscles of my shoulders so hard her fingernails dig into my flesh.
“Oh, shit,” she moans.
“You feel wonderful,” I whisper, lowering my mouth down to hers.
And now everything is slow. Elongated moments and stretched-out seconds. Her legs wrap around my middle, holding me tight as I ease in and out of her with deliberate, careful tenderness.
“Harder,” she begs.
“No,” I say.
She accepts. Because what comes next is the tenderest lovemaking I’ve ever experienced.
We are those kids again. Out on my old yacht. Summer of thirteen years ago. And nothing has happened yet. My uncle is not dead, Zach is not an orphan, she was not abandoned, and I never disappointed her.
Innocence was never lost.
I make love to her and rewrite the past in sim
ultaneous moments. Living two lives at once, we stay together and become that couple. Only we don’t fight, or hate-fuck, or ruin it with bad decisions and hurtful words. We never break up so we never get back together. We never destroy each other from the inside out.
It’s possible, I think, as we come together.
It’s possible to rise above it when you love someone and only want what’s best for them.
I don’t know how long we lie in my bed holding each other afterwards. Maybe minutes. Maybe lifetimes. But all things end eventually, so I get up, pull on my pants and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” Emma asks sleepily. It’s late now. Probably after midnight.
“To get us that drink,” I say. Then I lean down and kiss her on the lips. “Be right back.”
I find Zach in his living area, fingers flying as he texts on his phone. “Did you get it?”
He nods. “In the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“It’s a dumb idea,” he says, only half paying attention to me as he concentrates on his silent conversation.
“It’s the only way out of this now,” I say, heading down the hallway to his kitchen.
I find a silver tray on the center island with a bottle of sparkling cider in an ice bucket.
Two glasses.
And one pill.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - EMMA
Somewhere something is buzzing. I want it to stop very badly, but I can’t open my eyes so I give up and just drift off to somewhere else where there is no annoying buzz.
But again, it comes back. That incessant buzzing won’t leave me alone.
What the fuck is it?
I don’t know. I don’t care. I do my best to drift.
Still, there is more buzzing.
“What the fuck?” I groan. My head is pounding and my mouth is dry. Nothing makes sense.
It takes me a while to remember where I am.
Jesse’s place.
Now that wakes me up. I turn over, smiling as I try and force my eyes open. Can’t really manage that, so I reach out for him and find… an empty bed.
“Jesse?” I groan.
Nothing but buzzing. And it comes to me what that buzzing is.
My phone.
“Shit,” I say, rolling over and propping myself up on my elbows. I crack one eye open and realize… I’m in my bedroom. In my own bed. Alone.
