Maybe he needed to hear it. Maybe he didn't want to use it against her.
Risk, thought Jasmine, wasn't fair. Why couldn't he be the one to lay himself open?
"Why would it matter to you if I need you or not, Matt?" she said sharply. "How can having sex with me hurt you? You're fine with meaningless fucking. What good would it do me if I did…even if you did matter to me? It's not like you could give me anything I really needed."
It was like she'd slapped him. His head jerked back, his eyes shut and she saw his throat working.
Her own words reverberated in her ears. She hadn't meant them to be vicious. But she saw their effect.
I take that back. It's I who can't give you what you need.
Matt rubbed his eye. "Jasmine, why don't you just go."
Dread shrouded over her. Once before, he'd told her to go and she'd ignored him, with disastrous results. She didn't know what to do. If she left now, that was it. They'd had their chance. She was already so close to throwing it all away.
"You really want that?" she said tightly. "If I go, I'm afraid we won't ever…we won't ever make up."
"Yeah, I mean it," he said. "I'm messed up. I'm drunk. I'm not in control."
"Matt, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Don't stress it. Just go." When she didn't move, he said, "Stay and you'll get treated like shit, Jasmine. You have no idea what a bastard I can be when I set my mind to it. Or maybe you do. You saw it before and you've seen me with Regan."
"I know you can be cruel. You're the king of one-night-stands."
He laughed shortly. "There's nothing cruel in that, Jas. None of the girls cared a goddamn fuck for me."
But I do. And your one-night-stands hurt me plenty.
And now I'm hurting you. You're right, this is messed up.
"I'm sorry," she said again. "I don't want to go. I guess I'm selfish, to want to stay when I've obviously hurt you. I just…why does it have to be screwing, Matt? Why do we have to lash out at each other like this?"
"I don't know." He went to the chair and sat down in it, sprawling out, head flung back.
"Couldn't we start over? Start from scratch, like we just met?"
He didn't answer. His hand came up to rub his throat.
"What's wrong with your neck?"
"It gets tight sometimes."
She walked over to him, bent down, and put her hand on his throat. He went still. She looked at his face and blinked, for as bland as his expression was, she'd swear his eyelashes were glistening.
"Oh, Matt. I'm sorry."
She crouched down beside him and stroked his neck softly. He grabbed her hand and guided it away.
It dawned on her that she wasn't the only one who had a hard time being vulnerable.
The words rushed out of her. "If you want to screw me and that's the only way we can be together, I'll do it."
She winced with the pain of his hand squeezing hers. "I don't. Want. To screw you. I wanted you to know what it's like."
"I think I already do." She was thinking of the guys in her past.
He misunderstood her. "We weren't screwing from eight to midnight. Screwing can make you feel so good and so alone that you can't resist it even as you hate yourself for settling for it."
Jasmine stared at him.
"It's nothing to aspire to. Not for someone like you or me. Not when you have a choice. And no, Jasmine. We can't start over from scratch." Abruptly, he swirled the chair around. He reached for the mouse, clicked, and a song began to play. It was eerie and sensual and Jasmine physically jerked at the feeling of being stroked inside her cells by sound waves.
"What is that?" she whispered.
He turned back to face her. "Something I listen to when the cold gets bad."
"The cold?"
"You know." His words were slightly slurred. "The feeling that goes away when we're fucking. When you come it's like lava down a mountain, Jasmine. I need that. I'm going to miss that. Quiet for a minute. I want to…."
He leaned back, shutting his eyes again. She sank down to the floor and crossed her legs, sitting in the erect position that came naturally to her. And listened to the music, watching him.
The song was long, and then it repeated. At some point in there, she saw him relax, saw his breathing even out, which was strange, because she hadn't realized his body was tense.
As for herself, she felt as though she could listen to the hypnotic, erotic rhythm forever. It was a peculiar, haunting instrumental that gave way occasionally to the suggestion of vocals.
The third time it started playing, Matt stood up, his blue eyes oddly clear. He reached out a hand to her. "Dance with me."
Dance? With Matt?
"You dance?" she half-laughed.
"Mm."
"Since when?"
"High school."
"I can't see it somehow."
His lips twitched. "In my teens I was big into dragons and princesses and all that bull."
"A real romantic, huh?"
"Pretty much."
Still not quite believing it, she let him pull her up. He gathered her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and his breath, the aroma of whiskey, were sweetly soothing. She was amazed at the emotional effect of simply being held this way, their bodies lightly touching, her hips occasionally meeting his. It reminded her of a time ages ago—she couldn't have been more than six—when she'd seen her uncle at a picnic and run into his arms. Safe and familiar.
But she didn't feel like a child. Their bodies moved just enough to call it dancing. It was about the only way you could dance to a song like this. Sometimes it was just arms, other times legs, but always sinuous and slow. They were moving together, but Jasmine wasn't sure if they were following each other or the external beat. Either way, her body tuned to it gratefully, even though it cued those annoying, recurrent tears again.
He danced like he fucked. Like she was the only woman on earth.
Another woman might have been charmed.
Jasmine was intimidated.
"Matt," she said in his ear.
He turned his head to look at her.
Tell him.
"I…."
She couldn't do it. Not on her own. "Tell me what you need," she said.
Matt stopped moving and stared at her. It almost physically hurt as he finally separated their bodies and went to turn off the music.
When he turned back, he was silent for so long that Jasmine nearly lost hope he'd answer. Eventually he did speak, in a voice that was flat. "I can't ask you for what I need, Jasmine."
"Why not?"
"Because you've already told me you won't give it. You've told me over and over. You're still doing it. You're a bad risk."
Jasmine jerked back. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head. "You once asked me what I thought of you and I told you. You didn't believe me. When someone doesn't want to believe the truth, you can't do shit about it."
Jasmine frowned. "Matt, I'm trying. I'm asking…I just want help."
She saw him register that and swallow. "Fuck. All right, I'll ask you. I need you to tell me how you feel, Jasmine. I need you to be honest. To have some fucking balls."
Terror. Here it was.
Oh, God.
He took her by the shoulders in a bruising grip. "See, I can't figure out why you're here. You have claws. You've sliced me in half so many times I can't count them anymore. I'm a motherfucking bastard, but for some reason you're still here trying to—what did you call it—be with me. So why?"
"You aren't a bastard," she said fiercely. "You…"
You live your life as if it were your last day, every day. You don't give up. You don't let anyone suck out your soul. You're not shallow or lazy or irresponsible or any of that. You're brave. When I least expect it, you're kind. You're everything I want, everything I wish I were.
And the moment I first saw you, I knew. But I didn't have the strength to trust it could be true.
"You're n
ot a bastard," she said again.
"Jasmine," he said. "God, sweetheart. Anybody can give you a thrill ride. Surely I'm not the only guy who can't say no to you. Why me? Why do you take my cock inside you like you're bringing it home? That first night, why did you give yourself to me like you trusted me to breathe for you? Why did you say to hell with everything and accept the Challenge?"
Oh, God.
If he knew all that about her, surely he knew everything.
She pulled away and sat down on the floor, looking at her clasped hands, the manicured nails such a lie of confidence. "You have to know why," she said thinly.
"I thought I did," he said. "But then you told me you don't love me and we were just screwing." He came down next to her, not touching her, no closer than if they were just friends hanging out. "In the end, Jas, I don't know anything about you. I just know about me. I know why I'm here. I know why I agreed to the Challenge. I know what I want and how I want it. The rest is just guessing and gambles."
She looked at him dumbly.
She'd spent a lot of time guessing.
The gambles, though…she'd been proud of the risks she'd taken. Now she bit her lip, because till now they'd all been pretty easy.
Sara had been the one to propose the Challenge. Jasmine had scorned the idea, then let Matt talk her into it, and then let him stop her from backing out of it.
She'd wanted him to make it easy, and he had. Every time she got skittish, he'd taken care of it. She'd gambled a bit here and there, but when pushed to the wall, she'd chickened out. Even last Friday, she'd let endorphins and adrenalin do the gambling.
Matt was brave, much braver than she.
But she needed to be brave, too, if they had a future.
People toss out the words all the time. So what's the worst that can happen if you say them, honestly?
Total devastation. You thought being rejected before was bad. Who cares if what you thought was rock bottom was just the tip of the iceberg, and he could slam you down so low you'd never crawl out?
This was life.
Guessing and gambles.
"Matt, I…" Her voice wasn't working properly and her ears buzzed with a noise emanating from her mind or maybe her blood. "I…"
Matt had gone silent. He was watching her. Waiting. Jasmine told herself he'd taken all the risks he could. So it really was up to her.
Face it. It'll never get easier than now.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like if he actually loved her back. If he didn't betray her and she didn't disappoint him and life really were a fairy tale.
It was all impossible—but not as impossible as it would be if she didn't take the chance.
She took a deep lung-and-belly breath.
And took the leap.
"I know zip about love," she began, her voice low but steady. "I mean that. Nothing. Sara's the first true friend I've had since adolescence and I have no idea how to tell her what she means to me." She took care not to look at Matt in case he showed signs of amusement. "You have to have a certain arrogance to say you love someone, and I don't think of myself as that significant."
She paused. Stared at her hands.
Thankfully, he said nothing, letting her gather her thoughts.
"Sara…I really admire her. Guys don't cheat on her like they do me, and I kind of know why. She gives a lot. Of course, it ends up rebounding on her. But she always bounces back. I'm glad Harrison's with her. He seems to want to take care of her, and she deserves that."
She was blabbering now. Stopping would be a bad idea, though, so she plowed on.
"I'm not a giving person. Men tell me I'm cold. I don't want to be like that, like my parents. But I guess I am. I mean I feel things, I have feelings, but I don't think they're worth that much to other people, so I keep them to myself.
"So, uh, when I tell you how I feel, Matt, you should realize it's not that big of a deal. Only to me. You probably won't be all that impressed. It won't do you much good because it just isn't the kind of thing to make a difference to anyone."
She risked a quick look at Matt's face just long enough to capture the frozenness of his features.
Oh, God. She shouldn't have done that.
Do it. Do it. Her hands twisted together.
"So here's the thing. I agreed to the Challenge because, ah, I love you, and hiding it hurt. I thought if we had sex, maybe I would finally get over you or you'd just reject me so I could move on and stop wanting you. Um. I had sex like that because I don't seem to be able to do it with you any other way. You tell me you can't say no to me, well, I don't feel like it's an option to say no to you either or even that I need to. I feel like you'll take care of me completely, even though I know intellectually how ridiculous that is and no man is ever that…anyway."
She was really rambling now. It was awful. You're almost done. Now just tell him why you're here.
"I'm here with you now because after the Challenge I started to think maybe it wasn't doomed and maybe I could even give you something that might make your life…I don't know, better, and I thought if I just ran away without trying again, I'd regret it. Pretty much it's all because of loving you. If that's worth anything. It's fine if it's not. But I'd really appreciate it if you weren't…weren't an asshole now. Sarcastic. Or teasing."
There. It was done. The hardest speech she'd ever given in her goddamn life.
Jasmine closed her eyes and her head fell down on her neck.
She waited for it.
Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine….
Disbelief. Amusement. Derision. Any of it.
She was ready. But if it came after all that, she'd break.
It didn't come.
Instead came his breath on her neck, the stroking of her hair, his chest hot against her cheek, his heartbeat loud and frantic.
"Thank you," he said, and her chin was tilted up and he was kissing her.
Jasmine shuddered, trembling so badly she couldn't do anything except let him lay her down and kiss her. It was the sweetest kiss, tasting of salt and him.
It told her a lot. Not everything, but it told her he wasn't going to trounce her. He knew her gift, accepted it. Wanted it, needed it.
Some dreamy time later, he lifted his head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."
Her gut tightened in fear. "M-Matt?"
"That I said you didn't have any balls."
Jasmine gasped, then choked out a laugh.
"Damn. I wasn't supposed to tease you. Hold on, I need to show you something. Just stay here. Get naked if you want." He kissed her mouth quickly then got up. A cool draft separated their bodies and she rubbed her arms to warm them and sat up as Matt—she should have predicted it—went over to his desk.
Jasmine slowly took off her clothes, shivering with goosebumps, feeling dazed and a little drunk as if she were the one who'd had whiskey and brandy earlier. Matt went through the now-familiar motions that resulted in the stirring of the mechanisms inside the printer. He glanced down at himself, then stood up and stripped off his clothes, by definition a deliberate act, yet he didn't seem to be doing it deliberately. He studied her the whole time, his eyes caressing her. And he didn't look away till the printer stopped churning out pages.
The stack of papers he handed her wasn't thick like last time. He came down behind her, fitting his naked body to her back, took the papers from her hand and shuffled them around a little, placing them back in her hand when he was done.
"There it is, Jas. This stuff and running keeps me sane when I feel like I'm going berserk from wanting you."
It was a hodgepodge. Random paragraphs. Letters. Some pages had just a few lines. Some were stories. She just scanned the words at first to try to figure out what the collection was.
Dreams. Sex. Winter. Houses. Deserts. Mountains. Tigers. Children.
No names anywhere, but the more she read, the easier it was to get the themes. Loneliness and togetherness, cold and warmth, fear and trust, dread and hope.
Something opened up and relaxed inside her. She leaned back on him.
"They're for you," he said. "To you. Because of you."
"Poems?"
"I guess. I've loved you forever, Jas. You can kill me with a word. You can do anything you want to me. Push me away, take me in, it's up to you. I'll give you everything I can. I've tried to show you. But I know shit about love, too."
And that was the essential piece she needed. Like a rock cools from molten elements, the model in her mind slowly crystallized, and she saw their entire relationship now from this new perspective.
Why he did what he did.
Why they hurt each other.
How easy it would be to keep doing it if they weren't careful.
"Matt, I didn't know," she said. Then she added with painful honestly, "I don't think I could know it before. I'm such a wuss sometimes."
"But a fierce wuss." He breathed into the nape of her neck, his arms wrapping strongly around her, his legs clasping her hot and hard. "So now that you do, what do you plan to do with me?" Under the laughter was a thread of something dead serious.
"Love you," she said decisively. "Stop running if I can."
He was shaking, she noted. The papers fluttered out of her hands. She'd never been so acutely aware of Matt's vulnerability, his power, all there in the erection pushing between her buttocks, the hands holding her.
She felt herself falling backward and came to rest on him before she was flipped and rolled to her back and his shaft was gliding inside her. It was such an easy motion that the massive swell of pressure in her sex came like a wonderful ballooning sweetness.
"Sorry," he said. "I just needed inside."
Her passage rippled in response, with delight and warmth, her whole body convulsing at having him within her, around her, heating the air on her skin and her core with equal fire.
Inside me is fine with me.
"Fair warning." He lay on top of her with his full weight, his hands wedged under her bottom to bring her closer. "If you don't stop me, I'll jet it all the way to your heart. No condom. This is how I've wanted you since I first saw you."
LAST FRIDAY—JASMINE AND MATT—SHELTER
Naked. Matt was naked inside her.
Jasmine's first instincts were joyous. Then she tensed as it hit her what they were doing.
Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance Page 25