by Callie Rae
He grabs his drink and walks past me and Jade, then past Jesse and Cason and out the door toward the party. I exhale the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and reach for Narni.
She backs away from me, snarling. “You didn’t have to do that. I had it under control.”
“Yeah, sure you did.” Cason scoffs.
“Whatever. I’m fucking out of here.” Narni tries to storm past us.
Before she can get to the door, Cason blocks it.
“You aren’t fucking going anywhere but in my truck. Along with your friends here. You're drunk,” he growls.
I watch them, wondering exactly what their deal is. Cason has never been so growly and possessive of anyone before. I think what I said to that guy was more accurate than I realized.
I look over to Jesse, and the moment I see his face, I swallow hard.
His nostrils are flared and his hands are balled into fists. His whole body is practically vibrating with anger. His eyes are closed at first but then he opens them and looks at me.
He clenches his jaw. “Out!” He turns to the room. “Everyone out!”
No joke, anyone still in the game room damn near runs out. Cason drags Narni and Jade out with him, mumbling something about going home. Once the room is clear, Jesse closes the door. I jump when the door clicks. He’s locked the door.
Then he turns and stalks toward me. Slowly. Still fuming, still shaking. I begin to back up. I’ve never seen him this way.
His voice is low and angry when he hisses through gritted teeth. “Do you understand what we all went through when Marcus took you?”
I continue to back up until I hit something hard. I realize I’ve backed into the pool table.
Jesse stops right in front of me so we’re standing toe-to-toe. He drops his hands on either side of me, bracing himself on the edge of the pool table, effectively caging me in. He closes his eyes and drops his head onto my shoulder. I don’t need to touch him to know he’s tense. Jesse turns his head to nuzzle my neck and breathes in deeply. I stand still, unsure of what I should say or do.
“Do you understand what it did to us?” he growls from my shoulder.
Now it’s my turn to tense.
“I was fucking sick. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t breathe. I was fucking dying, Fallon.”
“I—” I begin to say something, but stop, because I don’t know what to say.
To be honest, I’ve never once thought about what it did to them. The only thing I could focus on was what I’d been through.
I shake my head as my throat tightens. “Don’t you dare do that. Don’t try to make me feel bad for getting kidnapped. I didn’t fucking choose to go through that bullshit.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to get you to think.” He lifts his head to look me in the eyes.
For the first time, I can truly see the fear he’s been holding inside. It’s simmering at the surface, about to explode.
He slams his hand down on the pool table. I jump, a side effect of being kidnapped and beaten on.
“Damn it, Fallon! Do you know what I thought when Cason told me he’d lost you? Every fucking possibility ran through my head. I was scared you were dead. Or worse.”
My hands ball up because my body wants to react, but my brain knows he’s right.
“I’m sorry, Jesse. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted a night where I wasn’t the girl who had a babysitter because she’d been kidnapped and beaten. Where you or Cason or Jade or my mom didn’t have that look of…of…” I snarl because the words taste as bitter as I feel when see it on their faces. “Of fucking pity.”
I drop my head and close my eyes. I’m suddenly very tired. But then Jesse’s finger tips my chin up and I’m looking him in the eyes once again. This time his eyes are softer. Kinder.
He isn’t staring at me with pity in this moment. It’s something else. Something more.
“Fallon, I don’t pity you. I’ve never pitied you. I don’t protect you because I think you’re small. You’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest women I know. I admire you. Your strength. Your will to keep living. To keep fighting. I protect you because you deserve it. Because you’ve earned it. I protect you because if I were you, I’d have given up a long time ago. But you’re still standing here, trying to find your way back. I protect you because I love you.”
I’m stunned. I didn’t want to hear those words. I wasn’t ready to hear those words. But I know I damn well needed to hear those words.
I reach up and place my hands on his face and pull him to me hard and quick. He doesn’t hold back as his lips meet mine in a fiery kiss that sears my skin. His hands grip my hips, lifting me onto the pool table then sliding up until my shirt is pulled over my head.
I’m desperate for more kisses, for that connection, but instead of leaning in, Jesse takes a half-step back. His hand strokes my knee, then slowly slides up my thigh. His eyes trace the path of his fingers, and I watch the heat build in his eyes as they roam my half-naked torso.
His hand strokes higher to circle my breast, burning a path on my skin. But it's too slow, too soft. He’s driving me crazy.
The blaze rolls over my skin, making me gasp for air as I patiently fight off the urge to pull him to me.
He spreads his warm palm across my cheek, and I lean into his touch as his eyes rise to meet mine.
“Every part of you, every piece of you…it’s all perfect. The imperfections are perfect. You are life.”
He doesn’t give me time to process what he’s telling me before his lips are crashing against mine again. His hands go from lazy to swift as he pulls at the fabric of my leggings, pulling them down. His hand reaches down between us and rips apart my lace thong, exposing my center.
I reach for his waistband, but he grabs my hand and wraps it behind my back, holding it there.
“Give yourself to me,” he growls into my mouth.
I know what he wants from me. He’s asking me to let him take care of me. To trust him to hold us up. To trust him with my body. With my heart.
His lips graze my neck and then my shoulder as he drops to his knees before me and reaches for my thighs. His fingertips dig into my skin, but it doesn’t hurt. The part of me damaged by Marcus wants to push them off, to run from his hands on me. I hate what he’s done to me.
But I don’t push him away. Not Jesse. Jesse isn’t Marcus. Jesse can be trusted.
His mouth slowly strokes my inner thigh, and I tense. I’m at war within myself.
The fight in me is strong, but the need in me is stronger. I want to beg him to go faster. I want to beg him to find my core. And then I want to beg him to stop because Marcus ruined my ability to enjoy being worshiped this way.
Jesse is taking his time to make sure I’m ready for him. He’s taking his time to make sure I want this. He’s taking his time because he truly cares about my internal conflict. He’s taking his time because he loves me.
He loves me.
What Marcus felt was territorial. He treated me like a possession, like something he owned. But Jesse treats me like someone to be worshiped.
He loves me.
That knowledge allows me to relax, to get lost in the feeling of Jesse’s mouth on me. I moan as sparks of sensation flow through me, lighting me up like the fourth of July.
I reach my hand into his hair and hold on as his hungry mouth makes me weak. His tongue sweeps up my center, making me writhe against him. This makes him eager, hungrier. He sucks and licks, toying with me, moving faster. I can’t think. It’s all too much. My toes curl and my core clenches. The sparks coalesce into lava flowing through my veins.
He adds his fingers, and I gasp at the welcome intrusion.
“Jesse …” I moan his name as the lava pools in my core until I can’t hold it in any longer.
I give in. I let go.
And I fly.
Jesse stands up quickly and swallows my scream with his mouth as his ha
nd coaxes the rest of my release from me.
My breathing is hard and ragged. My body is limp. The only thing stopping me from falling over is his steady hold on me.
He rests his forehead against mine. “I’ve got you.”
I sag against him completely.
He says it again. “I’ve got you, baby.”
With my eyes closed, I swallow any doubts. I give the slightest nod, and he presses his lips against mine in a gentle kiss. I’ve marked him. I still linger on his lips; he’s mine.
But he’s always been mine. From the first moment I looked into those beautiful eyes, he’s been mine.
Chapter 28
Jesse
Golf. Who plays golf? I mean, why do old men dress up in their stuffiest golf attire and spend hours walking around using a stick to hit a ball into a hole? Is it a metaphor for their sex life? They can't get it in the hole at home, so they come out here to feel like men again?
I don't get it, but that doesn't stop James from setting up a pre-dawn tee time.
"What are we doing out here? If we aren't having a meeting, then what is the point?" I growl as I yawn into my hand.
I could've been in bed next to Fallon where I'm supposed to be. But instead, I’m staring as the sun slowly rises over the horizon to illuminate a perfectly-manicured field that I really don't care to see.
"How are you supposed to impress anyone if you don't practice your swing?" He sets his feet and swings, driving the ball a hundred yards down the fairway. He smiles, nods to the clouds above, and turns back to me. "It's your turn. Show me what you’ve got."
Golf is boring. It truly is wasted time. But I'll be damned if I allow this dude to show me up any longer. I will always win.
I place my ball on the tee, then pick up my club. I set my feet, making sure my grip is right and my arms are straight but loose. Then I pull back and swing, driving that ball as far as I can and watching as it lands on the putting green right by my father’s ball.
I look back at the man I no longer consider to be my father with pride in myself. Because this isn't a game; this is a threat. I am here and I will fight. I might have hit a fucking ball into a pointless fucking field, but I also just told him to watch his back.
His Oakleys cover his eyes, so I can't see the malice radiating from him, but I fucking feel it. I feel every ounce of his anger as he spins on his heel and climbs into his cart to drive toward the hole.
As I follow him in my own cart, I realize what he brought me out here for. He's testing me.
Test away, asshole.
We reach the putting green and he takes his turn, dropping the ball into the hole in one stroke. "Now that is how it's done."
I examine the placement of my ball. I consider the slope of the grass. I observe the man standing across from the flag holding the hole of victory. Then I play.
What he doesn't understand is, I know his game. I know his game because he has shoved it down my throat my entire life, hoping I’d follow in his footsteps. The problem is that I remained strong. I can thank my mother for that. She’s always pushed us to do the right thing.
I putt the ball, and it rolls slightly right. I see the smirk on my father’s face as he watches the ball roll away from the hole. He’s happy to watch me fail. But then, just as I anticipated, the slope of the ground curves the path of the ball and I watch as it rolls and drops into the cup. My father's face falls. I’ve matched him again.
He clears his throat before looking in my direction.
"Well played,” he bites out with a curt nod and a scowl.
I'm tired of the games. Specifically, I'm tired of his games.
"Cut the bullshit. I'm tired. Neither of us really like playing golf. So, I'm going to ask this one more time. What are we doing out here?"
He stares at me for a moment before another smirk appears on his face. "What a shame, wasting such a pretty day inside. But fine, I'll cut to the chase. There are certain times in a man's life, in his career, where he has to make hard decisions. For the betterment of both the business and his livelihood."
"What is your point?" I asked, sliding my teeth together.
"My point is, these decisions are not easy, nor made lightly. But they must be done in order to provide certain things, a certain lifestyle—like a shiny black car, designer clothing, a Jeep…" He pauses, then lifts an eyebrow. “Or real estate." He slides his club back into his bag. "See, all of those things cost hard-earned money. It would be a shame to watch all of those things disappear—especially for the inhabitants of any homes that may be sold off—because someone did something stupid, like snoop too far."
My jaw tenses at the obvious threat. He knows. He can't prove it was me that broke into his office, but he knows. This fucker has some nerve. I'll give him that.
I casually put my bag back on the cart, then sit in the cart and take the break off. "That would be a shame for anyone involved. But you should know something…"
I look over to my father. He’s visibly confused by my reaction to his threats. I'll be the first to admit that staying calm when someone I love is threatened isn’t my strong suit. But I've recently realized that I can’t beat him by flying off the handle. I have to be smarter, stronger, and more calculating.
"What's that, son?"
"It would only be a shame if that person had someone or something that matters waiting on them. But the sad fact is that whoever is snooping might not have anyone on the other side. Not anymore."
I hit the gas of the cart, done with this bullshit game. I drive myself back to the clubhouse where I deposit the cart. I storm off to the parking lot and throw my clubs into the back of that prick’s spare SUV. I don’t give a fuck if I damage them. He bought them for me years ago as another way to prepare me to ascend a crumbling throne.
I drop into the driver’s seat and start the car with shaky hands. I don't know if I'm buzzing from fear or anger right now—fear of what he would try to do to Fallon, fear of her never forgiving me for it, or anger that he would dare threaten anything that is mine. I don't know.
He knows, and she just forgave me.
What do I do now?
I can't let him go after her. I can't let anything happen to her. But I also can't lie to her anymore. She won't approve of this. She could get hurt; they all could. This has more to do with James and me than it does anyone else. This has turned into a battle between father and son, and I fear for those who get caught up in it.
I slam my hand into the steering wheel. It hurts me more than it hurts the wheel. But damn if it didn't help.
I put the car in drive and exit the parking lot as fast as I can. Fallon is expecting me, but I just told him that she no longer matters to me. And I can’t help but feel like that was a mistake.
A mile down the road, red and blue lights flash in my rearview. I hiss before pulling off to the side of the road. Just what I needed.
Chapter 29
Fallon
Golf. That’s what he decided to do today. Well, that’s what James decided they would do today.
“Yo, Fallon. What time is Jesse getting back?”
“I don’t know. He just said it shouldn’t take long and he was coming straight back here afterward.” I shrug my shoulders from the corner of the couch, where I’ve spent most of the day next to Cason as he continuously flicks through the channels.
I wonder if this is what it’s like in his head. If the constant flicker of thoughts and ideas slides through like someone is constantly changing the channel.
He snorts. “They usually play all day. I never could get into the golf thing. Who really wants to stand in the hot-ass sun all day hitting balls onto the next green? Nah, it’s the way corporate men size up who has the biggest dick. I don’t need golf to know my dick is the biggest.” He smirks.
I roll my eyes. “You really think Jesse likes golf?”
“He’s always played. Since he was old enough to swing a club.” Cason shrugs.
“Cason, he’s always tri
ed to please James. Of course he’s played. Doesn’t mean he actually likes it.” I stand from the imprint I’ve created in the couch and stretch.
“Y’all seem to be getting along again,” Cason says.
I turn back to look at his hopeful blue eyes watching me. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I shrug as I leave the living room. Once I get out of Cason’s sight, I stop, placing a hand on the hallway wall for support and the other on my heaving chest.
Are we getting along? Or are we playing the game like the good little kids that James wants us to be? Probably the latter.
I catch my breath and swallow down the twinge of guilt I feel.
I was never not getting along with Jesse. I was doing what I thought was right. Last night, I begged him to stay here because I knew it was better than him walking out of my room doing something that could hurt his future. Jesse has a bright one, if only he can get away from all of this. From Cherry Creek.
“Shit! Fallon, we gotta go!” Cason hollers across the house.
I turn to the living room entrance just as he crosses the threshold holding his phone.
“What are you doing?” he asks, the confusion lining his face.
Then, just like that, it’s gone, replaced by urgency.
“Jade!” he yells up the stairs. “Let’s go! Jesse needs us.”
“Cason, why are you yelling?” Jade comes out of her room yawning. She must’ve been sleeping.
“Jesse needs us. Come on.” Cason turns around, leaving us both standing in the hallway wondering what the hell is going on.
I look at Jade, and she shrugs her shoulders, as clueless as I am about what’s happening. Then the horn blares and we both jump into gear. I shove my feet into the first pair of shoes I can find, and Jade throws her hair up in a bun. We’re both out the door and running to his Jeep in no time.
I hop into the passenger seat just as Jade gets one foot in the rear driver’s side door. He throws the car into gear, spinning his tires down the driveway before we’ve shut the doors.
