by Tessa Bailey
Fucking her like the world would implode at any moment unless he came.
“You love it,” he rasped. “Yeah, you love my fuck like a dirty little girl. Don’t you?”
He thrust into her so hard, her head ended up hanging off the edge of the bed. Andrew must have thought that unsafe, because he picked Jiya up, turned and threw her down hard in the center of the bed, filling her once again with a shout.
“You don’t open your legs like a nice girl, you slap and claw for what you want, is that right?” Thrust. Thrustthrustthrust. “Are you a feisty little thing, sweetheart? You need this cock shoved in rough to keep you happy?”
“Yes!”
She climaxed around his pumping sex, her thighs hugging his sweaty hips. Without questioning her instinct, she picked up Andrew’s hand and put it on her throat. Looking down at her with a wolfish intensity, he clenched there, and the power of her orgasm doubled. She could feel the walls of her femininity milking him. Watched him travel to a place where he could withstand the pleasure no more—and he roared into her neck, a violent wave passing through his body, shaking it. At the very last second, he reached down and withdrew, shooting hot semen all over her stomach and breasts.
“Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.” His white-knuckled fist rode up and down the thick rod of flesh, squeezing out what seemed like an endless rush of come. “Jiya, sweetheart. God. Baby, sweetheart. You’re so good. You’re fucking heaven.”
Andrew fell onto the bed beside her, his expanding and collapsing ribcage rubbing against her own. A sticky pressure built in her throat and pressed against the backs of her eyes.
Oh no. Panic was already setting in. What they’d just done had been a horrible mistake. The most glorious, perfect, life changing kind of mistake possible. How was she supposed to move forward with her life when she not only loved this man, but with the knowledge that he knew her body’s melody, chorus and refrain like he’d been singing them his whole life?
“Stay,” he whispered against her shoulder. “Stay stay stay stay stay.”
She shouldn’t. They both knew she shouldn’t. Lying in his arms was going to be the cherry topper on the cake she’d already constructed out of love and physical chemistry. She had almost collected enough gumption to decline and go home, but then. Oh then. Andrew found a discarded T-shirt on the floor and wiped his come off her stomach, gently, sweetly.
He went on to kiss every inch of her body.
Every. Inch.
He started at her toes and worked his way up to her ankles. His lips coasted up her shins and lingered on her knees, giving attention to all sides. He spent a lot of time on her thighs, his palms skimming, fingertips connecting moles and freckles, creating constellations. His breath ghosted over her sex, loving it with humming strokes of his lips, before traveling over her hips, belly, breasts, arms, shoulders, neck. He ended at her mouth and said good night.
“Good night,” she whispered back, allowing herself to burrow into his warmth. Allowing herself to find out being held in his arms was even better than she’d been dreaming.
Allowing herself to sink into a love from which she’d never recover.
*
ANDREW STARED ACROSS the pillow at Jiya.
The sound of his heart pounding almost drowned out the inner voice calling him a bastard, but not quite. He’d slept with Jiya. Spent the night with her. Every day of his life had been leading up to last night. Every hard day of work, every failure and triumph. All leading to her. To touching her skin, sinking into her body, breathing with their mouths joined. Everything else had just been details. Precursors.
Yet those details were the reasons he should have sent her home last night.
He wasn’t that strong, though. Or decent, apparently. At least not enough to resist the girl of his dreams coming to him in her nightgown. Comforting him. Being so Jiya. So his.
Not yours.
Even after last night, she can’t be yours.
How could he stay away now? Letting her walk away, watching her date, was already going to be torturous. Now? Now, he actually worried for his sanity. Or the lengths he might go to distract himself from reality. The mere thought of her smiling at another man made his skin feel flayed. He turned over and pressed his face into the pillow, something sharp wrenching in his chest. What the hell am I going to do?
What if he talked to her?
What if he told her everything…and she didn’t condemn him?
What if she wanted to be with him, despite what he’d done?
Cautiously hopeful, Andrew lifted his head and took in her beauty. The sun was only beginning to rise and it outlined her rich skin with the slightest orange, like she was the sunrise itself. His white sheets were twisted around her hips, leaving her tits bare, her navel bathed in the sunlight like succulent fruit. God, she’d been a virgin. All this time. The fact that he’d damned himself for stealing that virtue, which she’d likely been saving for marriage, didn’t stop him from wanting her again. Again. He’d sacrifice a decade off his life expectancy to be on his back right now, watching her buck those hips on top of his stiff cock while he gripped the headboard.
Beneath the bedclothes, Andrew’s shaft filled with blood and lengthened along his inner thigh. Don’t even think about it.
He’d been weak from the nightmare last night. Plied with alcohol. And still, he should have done the right thing. If he woke her up with his tongue between her thighs and fucked her again, he would have no excuses. None. He’d be taking the pleasure of her body, knowing full well he could offer nothing in return.
Unless.
Unless he told her his secrets and she accepted him nonetheless.
Afraid to even hope, Andrew got out of bed carefully so he wouldn’t disturb her. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and went to the dim kitchen, making coffee in the beginnings of sunlight. A car door closing outside brought his head around and a pit opened in his stomach.
He knew it was Handler before he even looked out the window.
“Motherfucker.”
Andrew unlocked the door, stepped outside. God help him, he wanted to beat his chest and bellow at this asshole who dared come within a hundred yards of Jiya while she was naked and vulnerable inside. Or his brothers, who still slept upstairs. He was selling his soul and this guy couldn’t grant him one simple request? “I told you not to come here again,” Andrew growled when they met at the edge of the driveway. “Get back in your car and leave.”
Handler squinted down at Andrew’s bare chest. “Those nail marks, son?”
Caught off guard, Andrew looked at himself to find he did indeed have several red slashes across his pecs and stomach. Pride swam in his belly, clashing with the irritation. “And?” Andrew raised an eyebrow at Handler. “Been a while since you got scratched up, old man?”
The other man’s expression grew pinched. “Let me guess. Those came courtesy of the waitress next door. The one with the great rack.” He licked his fleshy lower lip. “You know, I’m thinking you two might be serious.”
Andrew’s vision was doused in red, his fists aching from being clenched so tightly, but he didn’t want to give Handler the satisfaction of winning this battle. Nor did he want to give the kind of reaction that would make Handler focus more on Jiya. “Oh yeah. What makes you think that?”
“You’re a good-looking man. Working in a bar and lifeguarding, I’m sure there’s no shortage of willing girls to choose from.” Handler pointed at Andrew’s house, then Jiya’s, in turn. “Now in the case of our pretty Miss Dalal…sleeping with her is kind of like shitting where you eat, isn’t it? Once you start hitting that, you can’t bring other girls home. She’ll see what’s going on right through her bedroom window, won’t she? And that’ll cause problems. So either she’s the only one you’re fucking or you’re not as smart as you look.”
Moments ago, Andrew’s blood bad been boiling, but the more Handler spoke, it started to ice over. This man had been watching closely. Too closely. He knew Jiya�
�s name, first and last. Knew the positioning of their bedrooms. Had he watched Jiya climb into Andrew’s room last night? The thought made his gut rebel. She’d been vulnerable. Andrew was making her vulnerable just by being involved with her. As friends, as lovers.
In any capacity.
Handler turned smug. “You’re showing me your soft spot, son,” he said. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s cute as hell and her restaurant makes a hell of a tikka masala. Ordered it myself last week. Don’t worry, I tipped your girlfriend well.” As if Handler was unaware that he’d just set off an earthquake beneath Andrew’s feet, he scratched at the patchy stubble on his chin. “Be a shame if they had to shut down for some reason. I think it might bother you more than the Castle Gate closing.”
He just managed to keep himself from throwing up. This man had gone to Spice, been waited on by Jiya. Been near her. Talked to her. This was a threat. He was threatening Jiya, if not with violence, then with damaging her livelihood. No. No no no no.
“She doesn’t know anything. My brothers don’t, either,” Andrew rasped, pressing his fingers to the throb in the center of his forehead. “I’ll do the fucking job, like I told you. I just want her and them out of this.”
Handler flashed an ugly smile. “Now that’s what I wanted to hear.” He handed Andrew a slip of paper out of his pocket. “Be at this address Wednesday night. One in the morning, no earlier or later. Be on time.” He gave Andrew a hard look. “You’re meeting Marlin. He’ll give you the address for the drop off.”
Andrew nodded stiffly. “Are we done here?”
The cop took a menacing step in Andrew’s direction, but he didn’t budge. “You don’t want to find out what I can do if you fuck this up or decide to be a hero, son.”
Any glimmer of hope Andrew had encountered earlier that talking to Jiya might be the best move faded to nothing as he walked back into the house. How could he tell her what he’d done when he knew firsthand how the information could be used to make people do things against their will? Putting distance between them was the only way to keep her safe. She needed to stay away from him. Out of Handler’s reach. And, in turn, Andrew’s.
On autopilot, he made two coffees and walked like a zombie to his bedroom, using a hip to open the door. A pulse rapped in his ear and it tripled in speed when he saw Jiya sitting up in his bed, clearly having just woken. My God, she was so beautiful. How could there be anything so hideous in a world where she lived?
They stared at each other in the gray light.
“I think I should go,” she whispered.
He swallowed and glanced away. His gaze returned to her when she slipped out of bed naked and put back on her nightgown. Her panties. How could he not stare when she was a goddess outlined by the sunshine? His goddess. She was supposed to be his.
But he’d put her in jeopardy.
I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ll get you clear of this.
Panic seized him when she padded to the window, preparing to leave and come back never. But she stopped before he could call out. “Andrew?”
He set down the coffee mugs and crossed to her. “Yeah?”
Facing the window, she brushed her hair back over a shoulder, speaking in a hoarse whisper. “If you say to me now…if you say, wait for me, Jiya. Or please don’t go on this next date, Jiya…I won’t, Andrew. You just have to say the words. You just have to let me know there’s something real here and you feel it, too.”
She turned shining eyes on him and the misery inside him turned so acute, he almost fell to his knees. If she only knew how bad he wanted to say the words. If she only knew. But he couldn’t be selfish. Couldn’t darken her potentially bright future. Or make her a target. Christ, he’d made her a target. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved so much better than him.
He loved her. So he needed to give her up. He needed to get her away from the evil he’d invited into their lives, before it touched her.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry—”
She was already out the window.
When she climbed inside her bedroom and pulled her blinds, vanishing from sight, any remaining light left in Andrew’s universe winked out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JIYA WORE BLACK to dinner.
It wasn’t an intentional decision to dress like a pallbearer, but she stared down at her black tunic and matching leggings now, wishing she’d at least thrown on a colorful necklace to hide behind, so her grief wouldn’t be quite so obvious. Though the shadows under her eyes she’d had no luck concealing were probably the dead giveaway, rather than her outfit.
She swallowed with an effort and picked up her fork, prodding the fragrant curry her mother had prepared for their guests. Normally, the intoxicating smell of garlic and tamarind made her stomach double in size to accommodate all the food, but it was currently the size of the pea. So rebellious to the idea of food, she was afraid to offer it a bite.
Sensing eyes on her, Jiya glanced up and smiled at Mrs. Chauhan.
Her date’s mother.
At the head of the table, Jiya’s father sat, happily tucked into his curry, a lot like Mr. Chauhan, while the mothers were visibly searching for a jumping off point in the conversation.
“Ajay graduated from Columbia. Business school,” Jiya’s mother said, beaming that hundred-watt hostess smile at Jiya, where she sat at the other end of the dining room table.
Across from her date.
You are on a date.
Jiya squared her shoulders and nodded politely at the man who’d arrived with his parents twenty minutes ago. Their mothers were taking turns bragging about their children’s accomplishments, which was one percent nice and ninety-nine percent awkward. She hadn’t exchanged a single word with the man being presented as her potential husband yet, but there had been some shared eye rolls over the proceedings that gave her hope.
Yes. Jiya was determined to give this evening her undivided attention.
Her heart was inside of her chest, beating as usual.
It wasn’t in the house next door, bleeding all over Andrew’s bedroom floor. That was simply how it felt. But she’d given Andrew the chance to stop tonight from happening. He hadn’t taken it. He hadn’t tried to stop her or offered an explanation. Jiya was done.
The pain she’d been living in since Friday morning threatened to clobber her over the head, so she picked up her lassi and took a healthy sip, begging the agony to subside. Get through tonight. You can get through tonight. Then the next day. And the day after.
“He’s also very tech savvy, aren’t you, Ajay?” his mother chimed in while passing a bowl of basmati rice. “I never have to bring my phone to get fixed. He does it himself.”
Looking kind of sheepish, Ajay leaned across the table toward Jiya. “Tech savvy is her polite way of saying I play too much Minecraft.”
His mother bopped him on the shoulder. “Only when he’s not working, of course. Or reading.”
“Reading Minecraft manuals,” Ajay mouthed.
A genuine smile curved Jiya’s lips, though it was a struggle to keep it locked in place. She took a bite of food and forced it past the never-leaving lump in her throat, studying Ajay across the table as discreetly as possible. It had been a long time since she’d actually considered the appeal of anyone of the opposite sex, really. Since she could remember, all the other boys had been not Andrew. And that was it. Her interest went no further. Foolish. I’ve been so foolish.
She’d been waiting for a man who didn’t want her.
Why did her heart refuse to accept that obvious truth?
A vision caught her unaware. Andrew putting her hair in a ponytail at the airfield, gathering every strand like they were gold fibers. Was it only ever friendship with attraction mixed in? Could that really be all it was for him?
“Jiya.”
Her mother’s prompting tone snapped her spine straight. “Yes?”
“Your father and Mr. and Mrs. Chauhan have known each other for some time through the temple.”
Her mother turned in her seat and even Jiya’s father seemed suddenly interested in the conversation. He passed Jiya a small smile and her pulse started to thrum. There was something in the water here. Whatever it was, Ajay didn’t seem to be the wiser, either. They traded a look, both of them shifting in their seats.
“Ajay’s mother and father have expressed interest in investing in a restaurant,” Jiya’s mother continued, pushing aside her plate. “Of course, they wouldn’t want to run it themselves. The medical practice is where their passion lies. However, in our many conversations, Mrs. Chauhan suggested the possibility of opening a second location for Spice.”
Jiya dropped her fork, but thankfully her mother had broken out the cloth napkins and it cushioned the fall. “A second Spice? Where?”
“Details will fall into place if we can find the right opportunity,” Ajay’s mother answered. “But we think you would be a great candidate to run the new location, Jiya.”
“Me?”
“Yes.” She’d never seen her mother look prouder. Or more excited. “You are more than ready. You’ve been helping me manage Spice since you were practically a child.” She paused to sip her drink. “You would need help of course.”
Two ticks of silence passed.
“I’m guessing that’s where I come in,” Ajay said wryly.
“Yes, well…” Mrs. Chauhan rushed to say. “There would be a sizeable investment on both sides. It’s only natural that we would want to solidify that partnership.”
Partnership. In other words, marriage.
The implication slapped down onto the table like freshly caught trout.
Of course, marriage had brought them there tonight. This discussion wasn’t surprising, even though they were moving forward at a rapid pace. But Jiya never expected the partnership she was looking for to be incentivized.
A second restaurant could mean a lot for her parents financially. It would be a mark of pride for them, having two locations. One operated by them. One operated by their daughter and son-in-law. They would be partners. They would share goals and celebrate milestones. Wasn’t that what she was after? Someone to be all in with? Now, she could have those things. And with some hard work, she could own her own business, too.