So, if we’d both been smart enough to understand that we couldn’t dictate what happened emotionally, then why had we gone through with the plan in the first place? Was it all about lust? Or had we both been using the whole deal as an excuse?
I didn’t have the situation worked out enough to explain it to Norma. “We’re getting there,” I said, which was at least partially true. I was getting there, anyway. “Things…changed…yesterday. And I’m sure they changed for him as well as me.” I thought about the way he’d looked at me as we’d made love, the heavy longing in his tone when he’d said he was glad I’d come around. “Maybe he’s even willing to admit it.”
Except there had been the distance at the end. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. He has some secrets.”
“We all do.”
“Crazy thing is I think I’m handling mine better than he’s handling his.” I hadn’t thought it until I’d said it out loud, but now that I had, things clicked. There had been distinct events in my life that had shaped and defined me. Things that made me withdraw from people and disconnect from life. Those were the reasons I’d sought a no-strings relationship.
So why had JC? Sure, maybe he just wanted things simple. But wasn’t it safe to suppose that he might also have had events in his life that led him to be emotionally reserved too? I’d already let my guard down with him. He, on the other hand…he kept his guard tight. Was his past more tragic than mine?
The idea broke my heart in places I didn’t think were possible. It also gave me a clarity I’d lacked before. With a tremble in my lip, I met Norma’s eyes. “I don’t know if he can do this.”
She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Oh, sweetie, you won’t know until you give him a chance.”
I wanted to believe it was that easy. As the waitress set the food on the table, I let myself pretend that it might be. Let myself believe that I had the strength to put myself out there. Let myself believe that I had the character to be what he needed in a support system.
We ate several minutes in silence while I mulled things over. Norma was the first to speak. “Do me a favor—don’t sell him short. I might not know him, but if he knew how to break through to you, I think he’s a guy worth keeping around.”
I liked what she had to say too much. It made me hopeful. If Norma could see a real relationship between JC and me then it felt more possible.
Possibilities scared me. So I tucked her suggestion away and feigned insult. “You make it sound like I’m so unapproachable.”
“Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I am.” Of course I am. Or I was. “I think I’m changing. Maybe not. A little, though?” If I were really changing, I should be able to tell JC how I felt.
“You’re changing. I see it. Everyone can see it.”
“Thank you.” This time I let her words really hit me. I soaked in them. I celebrated in the truth of them. It was amazing to have the accomplishment acknowledged. It was even more amazing that the accomplishment happened in the first place. So whether I told JC how I felt or waited to see what happened next between us, I’d still progressed as a person. That was what counted, wasn’t it?
“All of us are changing, I think,” she said, a bit whimsically. “You and me and Ben. We’re all learning to let love in. We’re letting our wounds heal. And you know what I think? It’s about goddamned time.”
It struck me as ironic that for as long as our father had been in prison, we’d been locked up as well. We were supposed to be the ones who’d been freed by his incarceration. Yet we’d each gone with him into captivity.
Now, for us to be liberated ten years later…
Yeah. It was about goddamned time.
Chapter Thirteen
The next week, JC canceled our date.
I’d still never given him my phone number—strange, he hadn’t asked for it either—so I had to find out in a call from Alyssa.
It was almost seven on Wednesday morning, and her name on my caller ID surprised me. I might not have answered except I was too curious. “Hey. JC was in last night,” she said, not bothering to say hello.
“Uh…and?” Of course he’d been in. It was the night he had booked in the Viper. But why she was telling me about it was beyond me. JC and I had kept our arrangement—our whole relationship—completely off the radar.
“He wanted me to get a message to you. Said he’s not going to need to book tonight. Said you’d know what he meant.”
“Oh.” It was cryptic yet clear. My heart fell to the bottom of my chest with a sickening thud. Yet now that it had happened, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought it might be a possibility. If I’d had any doubt that we’d truly connected the last time we’d been together, it was gone now. We had connected. He’d felt something, even if it hadn’t been to the same extent that I had. He had to have. Otherwise he wouldn’t be running now.
Or maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Maybe he had a good excuse.
“Did he say why?” After I asked it, I realized it was probably a weird question when he’d framed his cancellation to seem like he was cancelling a room at the club. Which meant I had to let that go unanswered. “I mean, did he say he wanted another night instead?”
“Nope.” She inhaled deeply—smoking a cigarette, I assumed. Or a joint. I really didn’t know her that well.
I also didn’t really know JC. And while I’d never asked or wondered about his evenings in the Viper, I suddenly wanted to know very badly. I hated that Alyssa got to see him in that environment and I didn’t. I hated that he felt comfortable enough for her to be his messenger. I hated that he felt comfortable enough to give her that particular message.
I hated that he was giving that particular message at all.
I knew I was potentially making a fool of myself, but I asked, “Did anything…unusual happen last night? With JC, I mean.”
“Nope. Same old, same old.”
Which meant…? “So he seemed…okay then?” I pounded my fist against my forehead, realizing how stupid I sounded but not able to control myself.
“I’m not sure what you’re asking me. He was JC. Same as always. Do you have a thing for him, Gwen? He’s hot-to-trot, but I have to tell you—he’s not the guy for a girl like you.”
“What does that mean—a girl like me?” I tried not to come off too offended. But the whole conversation had me turned around. Alyssa wasn’t usually this relaxed with me. This straightforward. This blunt.
And I wasn’t usually so off my game. So easily defensive. So desperate and needy.
“I mean that you’re the type who expects fidelity. The type that would want commitment and monogamy in a relationship.” Another inhale. When she spoke again, it sounded like she was attempting it while holding her breath. “Am I wrong?”
Until I’d met JC, I’d been the type who didn’t want relationships at all. And it had been him who had insisted on monogamy. The idea that he was fooling around with others bothered me, and not just because we hadn’t been using condoms.
I didn’t know how to respond to her question.
When I didn’t speak, she did. “But if you don’t mind being a flavor of the month, go for it.”
I knew I shouldn’t ask. It was the worst thing I could know. “Have you ever been his flavor of the month?”
She laughed. “That’s very funny,” she said, as if I’d purposefully cracked a joke.
Except I hadn’t. I truly wanted to know. Now even more so. Did she find my question humorous because she would never go for it with JC or because she had and everyone knew so why was I asking?
I wanted to dig further, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it without seeming like an idiot. And I already felt like an idiot. I’d been dumped for the night, after all. Through a messenger.
“Anyway,” she said. “I’m about to crash. Just wanted to give you the heads up.”
“Thanks.” But I wasn’t grateful in the least.
The next week, I got the notice
that JC canceled on Monday. I’d been melancholy and moody since the call from Alyssa, but when I saw the note on my locker as I came in for my shift, my disposition plummeted to something akin to despair. I didn’t have to read it to know what it said.
I read it anyway. Have to cancel. Something came up.
He didn’t even sign it, which incensed me. He couldn’t even bother to write his initials? Was my heartbreak only worth twenty-seven letters of his time?
Really, I didn’t care about his signature or the goddamn twenty-seven letters. I wanted him. In person. Wanted to see him and touch him and kiss him and tell him I loved him. Even if he were only going to tell me he wasn’t going to make it on Wednesday, I wanted him to tell me to my face.
I knew in my gut that face-to-face wasn’t happening. Just as sure as I knew that he was done with me. Done with us. How many notes would I get before he stopped leaving them all together? How many phone calls from Alyssa? How many missed dates before he felt like I’d gotten the hint?
But Norma had said to give him the benefit of the doubt. And while I hadn’t entirely decided to follow that suggestion, it was the best choice I had. What else could I do? I wanted to lash out. I wanted to mourn. By keeping me in limbo, he made those options seem rash and unfounded.
All I could do was hope.
Well, and I could check in at the club the following night.
I never went in when I wasn’t working, but I staged it this time by leaving my phone in the office so that my appearance on a Tuesday wouldn’t seem odd. Of course, after I’d retrieved it, I still hadn’t seen JC. I lingered at the first floor bar, looking up at The Deck. Going up there wasn’t an option. I hadn’t seen Matt, so it was possible he was up there. If I walked in on him with patrons breaking the rules then he’d know I knew about his deals.
And even if he wasn’t, JC could be. And he’d know why I was there. He’d know it was for him.
I went up anyway. Climbed the stairs two at a time and burst into the room like I belonged. There was a group of men drinking and playing cards. Smaller than the time before. Only a couple of women. Everyone was dressed. Matt wasn’t around. Neither was JC.
“He’s not here tonight,” Alyssa’s voice came from behind me.
I turned to find her with a serving tray of appetizers. “Who isn’t?” Like she’d fall for that. We both knew who I was there for.
She smiled with that gleam that said she wasn’t going to play that game. “He has the room booked every week, but sometimes he sends his people without him. Nice making a move, though. You should probably wear something a little more…” she eyed my jeans and T-shirt “…accessible…if you’re going to try again.”
I rolled my eyes and stormed out. It was silly to be so mad since she was so wrong about what was going on with JC and me. But she was right about one thing—I was not dressed to get the guy. I should have planned that a little better.
As for JC’s absence, I was torn. I hadn’t thought through what I’d say to him if I saw him. Mostly because I just wanted to see if he’d be there, not confront him. Finding out that he wasn’t made me feel…better? Like maybe something really had come up, and he wasn’t even in town.
But also, he could have guessed I might have shown up and so he’d stayed away.
Really, I hadn’t learned anything. And I really didn’t have any reason to be mad at him or not trust him. So I’d take Norma’s advice and give him the benefit of the doubt.
For as long as I could justify it, anyway.
***
By the following Wednesday, I hadn’t heard from JC at all. I barely slept that day, trying to decide what that meant. I wanted to assume it meant we were still on. But it could also mean that he thought that’s all it would take to dissuade me.
He couldn’t think that. Because he knew, he knew me.
Which made all my debates pointless. I’d go, and he’d know how I felt whether I told him or not. I’d go, and if he let us be like last time, if he let me in and held me there, then I’d know how he felt too.
I put on the underwear from La Perla. Plus the garter. And the stockings. I blew out my hair and did my makeup. Sultry eyes, mascara. Light lips. I found a coat in the closet that was light enough to wear on a warm April night but long enough to hit my knees. I put it on over the lingerie, slipped on some strappy high heels, and took a cab to the Four Seasons.
I was late when I got there; still I lingered outside the door for several long minutes. What if he wasn’t there? What if tonight was the night he officially ended our deal?
What if, what if, what if.
What if he’d gotten scared, tried to back away, and realized he couldn’t? What if he was on the other side of the door waiting for me with as much trepidation as I was on this side of the door? What if I walked in there and he took me in his arms and loved me? What if it was wonderful?
I slid my key in the slot and went in.
He wasn’t in the living room, but when I walked in a few steps, he appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. He wore suit pants and an undershirt. A wife-beater. I’d always hated them, not only because of the name, but well, no, mostly because of the name. But there was nothing I hated about the way JC looked, his forearms resting on either side of the frame, his muscles tensing from the pose. He looked surprised to see me. And relieved. And worried. And maybe a little lost.
I read every single emotion with clarity because they mirrored how I felt exactly.
A stream of heartbeats passed with our eyes clinging to each other, our bodies frozen while we took each other in. It was like physically touching, the way his gaze skimmed over my skin. Like he was caressing my every inch. Embracing me. Stroking me. Adoring me.
I saw the exact second that he saw them. His expression had been soft and searching, then, as he scanned down my legs and registered my stockings, it turned dark and carnal.
“Take it off,” he said, his voice scratchy with barely contained desire.
I tugged at the tie at my waist, my focus never leaving him. My arms tingled and I couldn’t decide if I felt a flash of warmth or a flash of cold as I dropped the coat to the floor.
JC exhaled heavily. “Turn around.”
I spun, slowly, letting him see me in the underwear he’d purchased for me. Letting him see how perfectly they molded to my shape. He visually devoured me and it turned me on. Set me to flames. By the time I’d made it all the way around, I was wet and needy. A glance at his tightly bulging pants only made it worse. I yearned for him to touch me. Ached for it.
It only took him three strides to cross to me. But when he got there, he didn’t reach for me. Instead, he circled me, drawing a perfect perimeter around me. As if he were setting his boundaries. Here, his confident saunter said. This is the farthest I’ll be from you tonight.
It sent sparks down my spine that ricocheted and traveled to my very core.
“I think,” his tone was rough and raw, “that we,” every word purposeful and promising, “should push your limits.”
A thrill shot through me that was equal parts fear and excitement.
“Follow me.”
Goose bumps shot down my arms as I tailed him to the bedroom. It was so sexy how he commanded me. How I obeyed.
He stopped at the edge of the bed and turned to me. “Take off your bra. And your panties. Leave everything else.”
Each word was thick and raw. They fell on me like little grenades, exploding on impact and annihilating my composure.
I trembled as I complied, nearly sick with anticipation. He’d yet to touch me. I was dying to have his lips on mine. I was hot and horny.
I was also afraid. Because besides the silent exchange we had when I’d first arrived, we hadn’t addressed the last time. I still didn’t know where we stood. And while his aloofness was provocative as fuck, I feared it was purposeful.
So when I’d finished undressing—naked except for the garter, stockings, and shoes—I couldn’t stop myself from moving toward hi
m, seeking his embrace.
He stopped me before I reached him. With a curve of his lip, he said, “On the bed. On all fours.”
I hesitated for the briefest of seconds. It doesn’t mean anything, I told myself. This is the game tonight. Follow where it leads.
And because it was a game I fiercely wanted to play, it wasn’t hard to do as he said.
I climbed onto the bed, on all fours. It was a vulnerable position. I was exposed to him, my cunt on display, the slick evidence of my arousal plainly visible. Even more vulnerable because I was facing away from him and couldn’t see if he was looking at me or not. If he were pleased with what he saw. I had to trust.
“Very nice,” he said, and I beamed inwardly. He began to strip. I heard his zipper. I heard his belt buckle as it fell to the floor with his pants.
Now would he touch me? I hoped. I prayed.
“Crawl to the edge of the bed.”
I moved forward, and as I did, I felt the weight of the bed shift. I shivered with apprehension. Wondering. Waiting.
His hands settled on my hips just as his tongue slid up my seam.
I gasped, and he immediately did it again. This time, he dipped into my pussy. He licked a circle around my hole, rousing my nerves as he passed over them like the wave at a baseball game. I fought the urge to squeeze my thighs together. Let the pleasure build and tease as he taunted me with his attention.
As he serviced me, his palms moved to knead my ass. It was heavenly and unexpected. He’d gone down on me plenty, but he usually focused on my clit. This time, all of his treatment was on my pussy, and while it was fucking fantastic, the swollen bundle of nerves above throbbed and begged for a turn.
But when JC’s tongue left my cunt, it traveled in the opposite direction—to my ass. He nibbled along my crack, burying his face between my cheeks. As he grazed his teeth against sensitive skin, I whimpered. As he licked around the perimeter of my hole, I wrapped my fingers tightly in the bedspread and fought back a curse. Because…shit…what was he doing? And why did it feel so goddamned brilliant?
Free Me Page 19
