Finally Us (True Love)

by Bentley, Harper

  And now I wonder what did I ever do to deserve this? I must’ve been a telemarketer in a previous life and now I’m being punished for it.

  “Hi, El,” he says and his eyes go soft as he looks at me.

  I take a deep breath and nod. “Jag.”

  “I, uh, thought we could talk,” he says, his azure eyes fixed on me.

  I turn and see his paperwork on the counter picking it up and reading over what I need to do to get him started. Then I begin to get the room ready to work on him. I decide I’ll just treat him like any other patient and move along to the next.

  “El,” he says softly.

  My back’s turned to him as I pull resistance bands out of a drawer and I close my eyes and take another deep breath. You can do this. Just get through this session and then he’ll be gone.

  He says my name again and he’s right there, standing behind me. I jump and turn to face him leaning back against the counter trying to put distance between us but he leans in putting a hand on the counter on either side of me, blocking me in.

  “B-back away,” I tell him, my eyes looking anywhere but at him.

  “El…”

  “Jag, back away,” I whisper. He knows how much I hate being cornered, damn it.

  “Look at me, El.”

  I can’t. If I look at him, this’ll be real and I can’t take real right now. I shake my head, lowering it, refusing to look at him.

  “Look at me,” he whispers leaning down trying to see my face. When I don’t cooperate, he takes my chin in his hand and pulls my head up. “Look at me,” he demands.

  DEFCON 1 achieved. And I look at him all right, my eyes sparking lightning flashes at him. “What? What do you want, Jag!” I hiss. God, if I weren’t at work, I could really go off on him. Damn.

  And then he grins at me. What the fuck?

  “Better,” he says putting both hands back on the counter still holding me there.

  I shove his chest trying to get him to back away but he doesn’t budge.

  “Let me out,” I snarl.

  “No.”

  Oh, my God. Why does he always do this to me? “Jag!” I growl. “Let. Me. Out.”

  “Not until we talk.”

  And now I’ve had it. “Talk?” I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Talk about what? About you and Eva Coutu? Or how about Ariana Evans? Oh, I know! How about you and Alessandra and your wedding plans. Now, there’s one for my scrapbook!”

  He sighs and his head goes back as he looks at the ceiling then he runs a hand over his scruff. I use this opportunity to get the hell away from him, quickly getting by the side on which he’s raised his arm and move to stand as far from him as I can which is close to the window.

  “You know that’s all bullshit. I’ve tried explaining it to you. The media, the paparazzi, they’re ridiculous. You know that,” he asserts.

  I cross my arms over my chest and sigh too. Deep down, I do think it’s bullshit, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to hear that he’s connected to these women. And I know that with my luck, the minute I start believing it’s not true, he’ll really be doing what they say he’s doing as in knocking one up and getting engaged to her.

  “Can we go get a coffee and talk?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I can’t leave.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he answers and walks toward the door.

  “Jag, I can’t,” I protest, but he’s already out the door and I hear him talking to Gary in his office, so I try escaping toward the front but run smack dab into him as he comes out. Then he starts walking back toward my room, and I walk backwards the entire time wondering if there’s a back door to this place from which I can flee. I’ve never really looked back there, but I’m sure there has to be, you know, fire codes and all.

  “Gotta grab my stuff,” he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing me back inside my room where he grabs his hoodie and puts it on. I just stare at him as if he’s out of his mind until he says, “C’mon,” and grabs my hand pulling me out of the room with him. I’m too shocked to even say anything as this is all happening so freakin’ fast. As we walk down the hallway, he hollers, “Thanks, Gary,” as we walk by his office.

  “No problem, Jag!” I hear Gary yell back.

  My mouth drops open and I frown at that. Betrayed by my own boss. Damn. Guess who won’t be getting fake birthday flowers anymore.

  When we go out into the lobby, Courtney’s eyes get big as she sees Jag literally pulling me to the door and Trina’s upgraded the glare she’s been giving me now to a scowl.

  “I’ll be back, Courtney,” I say as I grab my coat off the hook. Jag takes it and helps me into it then takes my hand again as he opens the door. He swings me by the hand out of it then pulls me to a Land Cruiser. His dad’s. He opens the passenger door and helps me in, reaching over to take my seatbelt and buckle me in then rushes around to the driver’s side, I guess thinking I’ll escape if he doesn’t hurry. Smart man. He gets in and starts the SUV and we drive off.

  And I’m left sitting there riding with him in his dad’s SUV having been kidnapped from my place of employment and wondering what the heck has just happened?

  Chapter 10

  Jag

  I know I’ll sound like an ass for saying this, but I’ve never had to beg a woman to be with me. I’m usually being slipped their numbers or just blatantly being told how they’d like to fuck me. It just comes with the territory of being a pro athlete, I guess. I hear rock stars and movie stars deal with this too. I mean, I’m not being cocky, okay, yeah, I guess am, but honestly I believe I could have any woman in the sack that I wanted, if I wanted.

  But I don’t want them.

  I only want one. And she’s been a regular pain in my ass since the day I met her.

  I now stand in the living room of my condo watching El looking out the windows. I’d like to fuck her up against the glass of those windows. It was one of my first thoughts when I bought this place. While most people would think Christmas tree, my head went right to that, and I’m going to make it happen.

  As I look at her, I can’t help but stare at her heart-shaped ass that looks so good in the jeans she’s wearing. God, I’ve missed her, the way she looks, the way she tastes, how it fucking feels when I’m inside her. I feel myself starting to get hard and have to take a deep breath and think of something else because the sweatpants I’m wearing sure won’t disguise how happy I am to see her right now.

  After getting her in the vehicle, I decided to drive here instead of going somewhere public. We have some big issues to talk about, and I’d rather do it in the quiet of my condo and not have people milling around possibly hearing what we’re discussing or disrupting us. I’ve now got coffee going and when it’s ready, I go into the kitchen and pull two mugs from the cabinet, filling both full. I get the white chocolate mocha sauce I bought from Starbucks and pump some into hers. It’s her favorite and I hope she appreciates that I remembered.

  “Here you go,” I say when I bring our mugs into the living room.

  She turns and looks at me for a few seconds before walking over and taking the mug. She sits on my leather couch while I sit on the loveseat and watch her take a sip. She almost smiles when she realizes what I’ve put in hers, and I want to pump my fist but I resist. I’m just glad I’ve made her happy for a change.

  “So how’ve you been?” I ask. She snorts and looks at me with a raised eyebrow, and I see sarcasm in her big, green almond-shaped eyes before they scan my condo taking everything in. Well, guess that wasn’t the best opener.

  She looks away, as she cradles her mug in her hands in front of her and takes another sip, and I can’t take my eyes off her. God, she’s beautiful. Always has been. Her auburn hair’s gotten longer, hanging to the middle of her back. She’s got two strands pulled back from the front on either side and clipped in the back which looks really pretty on her. She even somehow makes the polo shirt her company requires her to wear look sexy, and the navy blue is
a good color on her.

  We sit in silence for a little longer, sipping our coffee before I break it. “I’ve missed you, El.”

  I watch as she lowers the mug and rests it on her knees then she closes her eyes, and I see her swallow hard and bite her lips as if she’s trying not to cry. Then her eyes open and she looks at me.

  “We’ve definitely fucked things up, haven’t we, Jag?” she asks, the look on her face one of hurt with a trace of anger.

  I purse my lips and nod. “Yeah. I guess we have.” I mean, what else is there to say. We have fucked things up. There’s no denying it.

  She places her mug on the coffee table and turns to face me, her eyes piercing mine, the anger in them clearly showing now. “I’m curious. How does it feel?”

  I set my mug on the end table and look at her puzzled. When she doesn’t continue, just looks at me, I ask, “How does what feel?”

  “How does it feel to know I’m dating someone else? That I’ve kissed another man?”

  And dagger to the heart. Jesus Christ. I clench my jaw and narrow my eyes as I watch her.

  She goes on, still looking at me coldly. “Do you feel helpless, like you’re falling down a hole that seems endless and you’re just wondering when you’re going to hit the bottom? Or does it feel as if your heart’s going to explode inside your chest? Wait. I know. Does it make you want to throw up? Or make you wanna get wasted, just completely trashed, so you don’t have to deal with it?” She stands up and glares at me, her chest moving up and down rapidly with her breathing. She turns and walks to the windows her back to me as she looks out on the city. “Does it make you wanna scream at the top of your lungs that I’m spending time with him? That I think about him?”

  I jump up and in three strides I’m behind her, and I’m so fucking mad I want to slam my fist into the window, or more preferably, into Eddington’s goddamned face. She turns to face me and I reach out and spin her back around to face the window and grab her wrists, pulling her arms up, roughly pressing her palms against the glass. I give her no room to move then I lean down and hiss into her ear. “You fuck him?”

  She doesn’t answer which completely sets me off.

  “You fuck him?” I roar.

  “What if I did?” she snaps hatefully.

  And I’ve had it. “Keep your hands there,” I say as I drop mine to her waist and yank her shirt out of her jeans.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she asks taking her hands off the window as she tries turning around.

  “Keep your goddamned hands there!” I growl, taking her by the wrists again, pulling her hands back up and smacking her palms against the glass. When I’m sure she’ll keep them there, I reach down and grab the hem of her shirt jerking it up over her head and off. Then my hands curl around to her front where I unbutton her jeans and yank them and her panties down then reach behind my head and wrench my t-shirt off.

  “Jag,” she murmurs, lightly protesting, still trying to move away.

  I’m out of my head now and I don’t give a shit. All I want is her. I shove my sweatpants, shorts and boxer briefs down and move into her, reaching around and cupping her, which makes her gasp as I drag my fingers through her folds, so silky and smooth.

  “So fucking soft. Jesus,” I murmur as I bend at the knees and taking my cock, position it between her legs. I ease inside slowly, and she feels so good that I lose control and ram up inside her so hard we both cry out. “Fucking hell,” I rasp and have to rest my forehead on her shoulder for a few seconds to catch my breath before I start moving. God, has she always felt so good?

  “Jag,” she moans breathlessly when my hand comes up, pushing her bra up over her breast and I find her nipple with my thumb and finger, rolling it between them. My other hand is between her legs, my fingers on either side of her clit rubbing it back and forth between them, which makes her moan even louder as I continue pumping up inside her.

  “You fuck him?” I ask again and all she does is whimper in reply. “You fuck him?” I demand, and bury myself deep inside her. Her fingers are digging into the window, trying to gain purchase of something, anything, and she shakes her head. “But you think of him…” I say, pulling out then drilling back up inside hard. “You thinkin’ about him now?” I snarl, rolling my hips back then driving inside again, burying myself to the root and hear her breath hitch. “You’re fucking mine,” I spit between gritted teeth and hear her throaty reply of “Jag,” as I slam into her again and again. I feel her pussy start to pulsate around me. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that, El. Feel you. Want you clamping on my cock so hard, milking me fucking dry,” I say as I feel her tightening around me, her body trembling against mine.

  A few minutes more and she screams, “Oh, my God. Jag!” and she’s there. Her body locks up for a second then clenching her hands against the glass, she starts bucking her perfect ass back into me, thrusting into me, riding me, her pussy taking my cock as far inside as it can and I throw my head back with a groan at how fucking amazing she feels. When she’s spent, her head falls back against my shoulder and her knees buckle. I wrap an arm around her belly to keep her steady as she moves an arm back to wrap around my neck.

  “Like that. Like how I make you come so fucking hard you can hardly stand,” I murmur.

  “Yes,” she whispers, her voice shaky.

  I lean down, biting her on the neck and suck hard, marking my territory, I guess. She’s mine and that motherfucker needs to know who he’s messing with. After several more thrusts, I finish with a curse, and closing my eyes, I kiss the back of her head then rest the side of mine against it, both of us breathing heavily, our bodies misted in sweat, and we stand there until I let out one more rasping breath then let her go, leaving her body.

  I bend to pull up my sweats while she just stands there, her back still to me. I watch her, and I know that she’s angry at what just happened between us, that she’s going to tell me to fuck off, that she’s finished with me, she wants this other guy, and I brace myself for the hit.

  “I’ve only ever wanted you. Wanted you to be my one and only…” she says quietly and trails off.

  I’m not ready for that, but I’m not sure what that means either. Has she fucked him and now regrets telling me that she wanted me to be her one and only? I find my shirt and put it on waiting to hear what else she has to say, watching as she bends to pull her panties and jeans back up. She reaches down for her shirt and puts it on then turns to look at me and she’s crying. Jesus.

  “That’s all I wanted…” she says again cryptically as her voice breaks with a small sob.

  I’m afraid to ask what she means because I don’t want to hear how she made it with this other guy. Don’t want to know that she’s sucked his cock. Don’t want to know that he’s had his mouth on her.

  “Didn’t want to let him in that way…” she continues and that makes me angry because now I know she’s fucked him and she just lied to me.

  “Get out,” I say as I look at her, my eyes gone cold. I could take it if she slept with him. I could handle that. But she’s telling me he’s in. She’s let him in. That she thinks about him, he’s in her head, maybe her heart, and I can’t deal with that. I know I’m being a prick, but if she’s fallen for him, I just can’t deal with that right now, and I’d rather she leave than stick around to see me lose it.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Leave. You want him. Then go.”

  She frowns at me as another tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. “But—”

  “El, go. I get it. I’ll call you a cab,” I say more softly and grab my cell phone off the bar and make the call. When I hang up, I turn and she’s still standing there but now she looks angry.

  “You’re a dick,” she announces as she walks to my door and gets her coat off the coat rack.

  “Yeah, I know,” I reply. She’s let someone else in, but I’m the dick.

  When she gets her coat on, she turns to me again and says, “Next time you fuck a girl, Jag, make sure you at leas
t kiss her first, asshole.”

  And she’s gone.

  Chapter 11

  El

  I’m an idiot. A certified, one-hundred and fifty thousand percent idiot.

  I ride the elevator down from Jag’s condo and I’m so mad I want to scream. What the hell just happened? I mean, I didn’t go there to have sex with him. I wanted to talk, but it seems our chemistry burns too hot and we always end up there. And it was good. More than good. Damn.

  But now he’s kicked me out.

  I tried explaining afterward that I only wanted him, that I didn’t want Austin that way, he was just a distraction, it’s always been Jag, and he tossed me out on my ass. Fucker.

  And now I start crying again. God. I’m hoping the elevator doesn’t stop because I’m a mess, practically snot-bawling now, but, my hopes are dashed once again when it stops. I mean, he lives like eight thousand floors up, so of course there’s plenty of time for someone to get on. Jeez. I wipe my eyes trying to cover up that I’m crying before the doors open then an older, very pretty blond woman stands there. She’s dressed rather stylishly and looks a little uptight, like some rich bitch, as her head goes back in surprise when she sees me. She hesitates to get on for a couple seconds, but then I guess she decides she doesn’t have the patience to wait for another elevator.

  I sniff and keep wiping at my eyes when she opens her purse then suddenly turns to me handing me a delicate, pink handkerchief.

  “Oh,” I mutter but take it from her, reluctant to use it because it’s a friggin’ handkerchief and she owns it and I don’t want to mess it up.

  “Keep it,” she says with an accent I can’t place then turns to face the front again.

  “Thank you,” I mumble and use it to wipe my eyes then nose.

  We stand in silence for a bit then she turns to me and I see that she has kind eyes and I feel bad for thinking she was a snob. She clears her throat then speaks.

  “If it’s a man who’s done this to you, I have a few words of wisdom if you’d like.”

  As I keep wiping my tears that won’t seem to stop, I nod.