She cinches us together at the waist with a violent force.
“Bring it, Jackson,” she whispers. “I want to see what you’re made of.”
Our eyes lock, and I pump a dry smile. She knows exactly what I’m made of because she’s made of the very same thing.
I think that’s what scares me most.
Emmy inches in, and I close the gap between us, crashing my mouth over hers like putting out a fire. Her tongue does a lap over mine, and I wrestle with it, love it—let it have the unholy tour of my mouth before I charge into hers. I’m in, exploring, leaving no stone unturned—my jeans already blooming with a hard-on that I know isn’t going to get satisfied anytime soon.
I haven’t had a Christmas to remember since I lost my parents, and, now, with Emmy here, it’s like she’s given it all right back to me.
Emmy is an angel.
She just doesn’t know it.
3
Slow Hands
Demi
Weeks trickle by. The New Year has been ushered in with Gavin and his deep-throated kisses, those hands that I beg to ride all over my body. Winter Haven and its ghosts have receded to nothing more than an afterthought. But the nightmares still linger. Those soft, pink walls taunt me from afar, Josh still slips into my bed while I’m lost in slumber, tearing off my clothes, coming at me fast and hard until I’m crying out in pain. No mercy. Nora and Josh don’t know the meaning of the word.
And, per usual, it’s Eva that adds levity to the situation. Eva has sent over a dozen texts, all of them accusing me of being striped naked and hung from a tree and how much she hates me for leaving her alone on this idiotic planet. It’s funny how she never did understand I was dead to begin with. I’ve been dragging my own carcass around for the last three and a half years, slowly giving pieces of it away to any scavenger that would take it in hopes I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.
Nice to know you’d miss me. And really? Can we go for something more traditional like a simple bullet to the brain? I finally text back as Gavin drives us to the local coffee shop to meet up with his friends. He mentioned I met them all that first night, but, in truth, I was too nervous to remember. All I wanted to do that evening was drop in a hole as deep as this mountain, lie down next to my father with my eyes forever closed. I don’t know what made me think I could ever work for Reeva like that. It’s one thing to party with a guy, it’s another to take cash up front and open your legs on command. Not to mention the fact Warren Senior wasn’t some ordinary guy I’d find in a club or some kegger thrown at a frat house. He’s a genuine member of the walking dead with a girth the size of a building. He could have crushed me, broke my pelvis, or worse—asked for seconds.
Eva texts right back.
OH MY GOD, she lives!!! Get your ass back here, Demi! Are you OK? Do you need me to send the Sensei?
I laugh out loud before covering my mouth. The radio is turned up, and Gavin doesn’t seem to notice, so I freely text back. The Sensei is Reeva’s personal bodyguard, aka the bouncer of the hoe-house. House. I scoff at the idea. It’s a thirty-two room mansion that is only slightly smaller than Winter Haven. There’s an irony in there I still haven’t been able to fish out. Nevertheless, Reeva likes to refer to it as a “house” and the girls as “family” because that’s the first layer of lies she feeds you. Those, in fact, are the best tasting lies. The truth is as appetizing as a mouth full of old coins.
No. Don’t send anyone. In fact, forget this message. I’m happy. That’s all you need to know. I want to tell her all about Gavin, how wonderful he is and that Prince Charmings really do exist. But, then, I’ve sort of found a unicorn, and I’d hate to get her hopes up in the event there’s not another one roaming around out there. I glance over at him with his dark stubble peppering his cheeks. He looks slightly fatigued from the wood run we just did, and his eyes have that sexy, sleepy look that makes my ovaries want to explode. I want this boy in the worst way possible. Slow has been real, but it’s time to shift things into gear and introduce his rock hard body to mine. I’ve tried to alleviate the pressure myself, but neither my fingers nor my imagination are any match for the real deal. I wonder if he’s doing the same? An image of him stroking himself in the shower comes to mind. I can see it now, his head slightly arched, the muscles in his jaw clenched with tension. Just the thought of his hand running over the length of himself has me hot and bothered ten times worse than before. The idea of watching as he pleasures himself sends that tender spot between my legs pulsating like a heartbeat. I think I’ve just expanded my bucket list to include things that Gavin Jackson does to his own body.
My phone buzzes over my thighs, and I come close to having the big O right here in the truck.
It’s Eva.
Happy? What kind of shit-fuckery is that? Eva has the mouth of a sailor. If you ever need a place to rest your head, you know where to find it. Don’t be a stranger.
I’ll never be a stranger. Sisters forever, remember? That’s our stupid thing. Every good friendship has a stupid thing.
Right. SF.
My heart breaks for Eva. Actually, her name is Kate, but she swore me to secrecy and I’ve only ever called her Eva. I know all her deep dark secrets, and she knows mine, well, most of them. I know she’s afraid of heights, hates fish and avocadoes. She won’t cross the street at a light because her mother was struck that way. She wasn’t killed or anything, but Eva uses it to justify her jaywalking. We met at a gas station slash eatery as I was leaving town, the third and final time I escaped the tyranny of my stepmother. Eva said she had a place I could lay my head, and did she ever. Anyway, Reeva renamed her, thus Eva, her mini-me, was born. Reeva developed Multiple Sclerosis and has been wheelchair bound for as long as I’ve known her. She earns enough from the house so she doesn’t have to worry about finances, and the mob washes all the money for her so she’s clean in the event any nosy government officials stop by—and, boy, do they ever stop by.
“Everything all right?” Gavin asks as he parks the truck near the entrance of the run-down looking shack with a sign that reads Corner Store.
“I’m with you.” I bat my lashes. “So it’s got to be great.” That’s no lie. I haven’t felt this free and light since before I lost my father. Besides, I couldn’t think of another person I’d rather spend my time with.
We head into the tiny dwelling, and it’s surprisingly bigger than it looks—cleaner and nicer on the inside, too, so all thoughts of having to quell myself for scabies later are out the window.
“Now here’s someone you didn’t meet.” Gavin holds out a hand to a tall, Goth girl with her inky hair spun up in a beehive, delicate as black cotton candy. She has the sweetest ear-to-ear smile, and I can’t help but like her irony. “This is Neva, Ace’s little sis.”
Neva, Eva, Reeva. I give a private smile. I’ll make sure to keep his best friend’s little sister far away from any nearby brothels.
“Gavin has nothing but great things to say about Ace.” They’re closer than brothers, and, with Gavin not having much family, I can see why he appreciates him so much. “Nice to meet you,” I say, taking her tiny hand in mine. It’s cold as it is limp. Nope, she wouldn’t last a second in the best little whorehouse in Connecticut.
A tall, dark-haired boy with a beautiful brunette comes barreling over. Ace and Reese. I remember them from the party.
“Speaking of the juice head.” Gavin gives him a light sucker punch, and Ace puts him in a momentary headlock.
“Watch it. Can’t you see I’m trying to impress a girl?” He pulls me in, and I mold to his rock hard body. A body I’ve yet to see naked, but we’re inching our way to various stages of undress. I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen sooner than later, and by sooner I mean tonight. I’m all for playing cat and mouse, but this feline’s needs have been on overdrive from the moment I set eyes on him.
The pretty brunette leans in. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Reese.” She gives a knowing smile. �
�How about we let these juice heads wrestle it out? Come back and hang out with the girls.”
I’ve never had many friends. Not even before I lost my father. I guess I felt it made us closer just having each other. It’s a small miracle I let Eva into the unholy huddle. I examine Reese, from top to bottom, as if she were a rattlesnake waiting to pounce.
“Sure.” It takes far more effort than I realize to untangle myself from Gavin. He gives an approving nod as I follow Reese to the back where a bunch of tables are laid out like a miniature café. Two girls sit side-by-side, a blonde and another brunette with the same long, dark hair as Reese. She has a sharper look to her, a little more cutthroat than Reese. I like her already.
“Would you like some coffee?” Reese points and starts heading back, but I shake my head.
“No one makes a cup like Gavin. I’m good.”
The girls break out in a unified round of oohs. Reese studies me as if seeing me in a whole new light.
“You’ve been around a while,” she notes. “Gavin is breaking all sorts of records with you. I guess you’re the one.” She raises her coffee as if she’s toasting me.
“Really?” The girl with the dark hair leans in. “No one makes a cup like Gavin?” she mocks. “Boy, you’ve really fallen under the G-man’s spell.” She looks past me and cups her hands over her mouth like a megaphone. “Way to go, Jackson! You’ve successfully added another girl to the harem.”
Reese smacks her in the arm.
“It’s okay,” I say, taking a seat with them. “Gavin told me all about his womanizing ways. I believe the word he used was man-whore.”
The blonde points her straw in my direction. “That would be accurate.” She bounces a quick smile. I can’t help but note how much she looks like Eva, and it makes me miss home—hoe-home. Eva would say it in her slight country drawl and it sounded as if she were saying home in two parts. Little did the rest of the world know she was referring to the brothel where she spreads her proverbial wings at night.
“I’m Brylee,” the blonde continues. Oh, yes—the midnight snack. I do remember her. “And that”—she darts her straw at the dark-haired girl next to Reese—“is Kennedy, Reese’s evil stepsister.” Brylee tilts her head. “Does it hurt to be so fugly, Ken?”
“Shut up.” Kennedy doesn’t miss a beat, but she doesn’t seem serious. In fact, they all have a sisterly vibe, something I’ve craved for so long—a sense of family.
“Contrary to what anyone claims”—Brylee glares at Neva behind the counter a second, but even that looks playful—“I’m Reese’s one and only bestie. So if you’re in the market, Kennedy, here, is seriously lacking in the BFF department. You can’t have this one.” She wraps an arm around Reese.
I’m not sure if I should be amused or affronted by the fact she’s pissing a circle around her “bestie.”
“I remember you from the Christmas party.” I nod over at her. “You were literally falling over Gavin.” And threatening to eat him alive, but I leave that out.
“That’s right.” She bounces in her seat as if she were having her own epiphany. “You’re the reason I had a dry season—at least that night.” She narrows her tiny eyes. “So, you’re the real deal, huh?”
Kennedy pulls in close. “To keep a man like Gavin tied down, you must be porn star spectacular in the bedroom.” I can practically see the condoms swiveling in her eyes. “Spill.”
“Sorry girls. Gavin and I haven’t so much as cleared first base.” True story—and it happens to be one that I hate.
An audible gasp circles the table as if I just broke some mountain moral code.
“No really. I can hardly believe it myself, but he’s big on taking it slow.”
Their jaws unhinge.
“I mean”—I glance over to where he’s standing, having a conversation of his own, most likely similar to this one—“we were the same kind of person before, and together we want to be different.” Why am I still speaking?
The smiles glide off their faces, one by one, as if they’ve just pieced the unchaste puzzle together.
“I see how it is.” I strum my nails over the table. “When a guy sleeps around, it’s hysterical, and when a girl does it—it’s nothing to laugh about.” Again, why am I going there? They want the best for Gavin, and, clearly, I’ve painted myself to be the worst—deep down I know I am. I’m a whore in the truest sense, a harlot, nothing to write home about. My only claim to fame is my tainted reputation.
Gavin and Ace stride over. The scent of Gavin’s cologne makes me want to curl up in a ball and burrow in his chest.
“How’s it going?” Gavin glides in next to me, and his arm finds a home around my waist. It feels right. It feels good.
“It’s going great.” I dart a glare to each of the girls seated around me. I’m still evaluating whether or not I’m at the mean girls table. “You have some very nice friends.” Gavin’s cheek rises on one side because he happens to know I play fast and loose with the definition of that particular word.
Reese reaches over and lays her hand on mine. “And you, Gavin, have a very sweet and honest girl.” She offers a reassuring smile. “This one is a keeper.”
“I’m not so sweet, Reese. We just covered that, right?” Way to bring the awkward to the table, but a part of me can’t help it. Reese is kind enough to want to let it go, and I’ve spent the last few years weaving together my grudges and using them as a life raft.
“I’m not so sweet.” Brylee lifts her drink to me as if we were a unified front.
“I’m sickly sweet.” Kennedy gives a wink, and, in a strange way, I’m starting to feel accepted.
Gavin’s chest expands with his next breath. “I think you’re sweet, Emmy.” He presses a quick kiss to my temple. “And that’s all that matters.” He scours the three of them with a scrutinizing gaze. “In fact”— his attention returns fully to me, and my insides melt—“I think you were made for me.”
I bite back the dull laugh rippling through me. Gavin and I both know I don’t have a single sweet bone, but I’m glad that’s not stopping either of us from something that feels so right.
Yeah, I could get used to Loveless.
I wrap my arm around Gavin and lean in.
For sure I can get used to Gavin.
“I did some math today,” I say struggling to open a bottle of wine before Gavin takes it from me and uncorks it without effort. “I loosened it for you,” I whisper over his ear like a love song.
“You loosened the cork and you did some math?” he teases. “Sounds like you had quite an impressive day.” He pulls out a pair of stemmed glasses, and I fill them to the brim.
We’re back at his cabin after a fancy dinner out on the marina. I felt bad that Gavin took me somewhere so nice when I see how hard he works for every dollar. Josh and Nora waft through my mind like a necrotic breeze. Just the thought of them fleecing my father’s company makes my stomach turn. Maybe with Gavin by my side, we can take it back? Either way, I will be taking it back the day I turn twenty-one, if for nothing else, for my father—my mother, too. Hell hath no fury like an only-child scorned, and I plan on delivering all the hell I can on my next birthday. September can’t get here soon enough. Brookhurst Steel should be in the hands of a Brookhurst, and, as far as I’m concerned, Nora doesn’t qualify.
“It was a busy day.” I hop up on the counter and find myself eye-to-eye with this beautiful man. “And I hope it’s going to get a little busier.” I pull him in by his tie. Gavin dressed to the nines for me this evening. He’s dressed to kill in the most literal sense. He’s already slayed my panties. I’ve never felt this out of control, this aroused just being around another human being. He smolders into me as if he heard every word, and my stomach does the roller coaster dip. “You’re a real man, you know that?”
A growl comes from deep inside him as he pulls me in by the back of the neck. I’m all skanked out in another one of his sister’s club dresses, but, by the way he’s looking at me, he do
esn’t mind one bit.
“And you are all woman, babe.” His mouth finds mine, and he takes a gentle bite. “What’s with the math? You plus me equals forever?” He takes another bite from my bottom lip, and my thighs quiver in hopes he’ll bite down on more interesting places tonight.
“I think I like your math better.” I ride my hands up his chest until I’m unbuttoning his dress shirt, powder blue the exact color of his eyes. “I was just adding up how long I’ve known you, and it’s been over six weeks.”
“Six weeks?” He crushes his grin up against my lips. “Nice round number. Sounds like we’re off to a good start.”
“That’s just what I was thinking.” I loosen his tie and slip it to the side. The top of his shirt falls open, and his chest glows, smooth, still tan from those shirtless autumn days. “I think we’ve enjoyed six good, slow weeks.”
“Six slow weeks?” He pulls back a notch slightly puzzled before that grin returns right where it belongs. “Six slow weeks. You think we’re ready to speed things up?”
“I think we’re damn ready.”
“I think we’re damn ready, too.” He scoops me up in his arms. “Grab the wine, sweetie.”
He whisks me over to the fireplace, and I try not to spill as he lands me on the furry rug laid out on the hardwood floor.
The fire roars to life like a starved lion, spitting sparks into the room every now and again with a series of pops. I push the wine to my lips and down half the glass before setting it to the side.
“Emmy.” Gavin lies on his elbow, and I do the same until we’re facing each other. The heat from his body warms my skin. “Tell me everything. I want to know every last detail about you. You’re right—it has been six weeks, and I’d like a tiny peek into who you are, who you were before you landed in Loveless. No more secrets—yours or mine.”
“No more secrets.” I nod, glancing down at our conjoined fingers. It’s as if all of time, all of civilization, has evaporated and it’s just the two of us in this strange void left behind by man. “So you’ve got secrets, too, huh?” I don’t know why, but I find his roundabout confession delicious.
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