I lifted my beer in salute. “To the women who ruin us.”
“I’ll toast to that.”
I didn’t mention how rough I’d been, or how I’d met another woman, one who was real and beautiful and had opened my eyes to the world. That not driving to her place and convincing her to give us a proper chance was killing me. Righting the wrong my family was intent on denying would be the only bright spot in my near future.
We finished our drinks, another round ordered as we caught up, painting the broad strokes of our lives. Turned out Owen was tired of working insane hours and planned to get into carpentry, a skill he’d developed since school. He wanted to make furniture and volunteer on some Habitat for Humanity projects.
Talk of giving back to the community played over in my mind, bringing with it thoughts of running viticulture events. Rachel had prompted the idea, her presence in my life shifting my thinking. Even before her, I’d grown tired of slinging drinks at Rudy’s Tavern, and the contest had reawakened my love of wine. I could have denied it all I liked, but it was in my blood. Just like it was in Rachel’s. My ray of sunshine.
On cue, my ribs tightened.
Ready to get home and end this shitty day, we said our goodbyes and made plans to meet again. Unloading felt good, having a friend to grab a beer with even better. But neither lifted the weight from my chest.
By the time I got outside, the rains had unleashed, curtains of water draping the city in mist. I didn’t flinch or run to my bike. I let the downpour wash over me. Puddles grew; cars splashed sheets of water onto the sidewalk. My heart was as heavy as my sodden clothes.
At home, I parked my bike and grabbed my backpack and helmets, everything a reminder of what I’d lost. Two steps toward my apartment, I stopped. My heart migrated to my throat. I blinked, sure the rain had blurred my vision, but a figure was hunched on my stairs.
A figure that looked a hell of a lot like Rachel.
Eighteen
Rachel
I couldn’t be sure how long I sat there. A light drizzle fell, my harried pulse slowing as the cool liquid drummed on my head, my arms, my legs. My jean jacket soaked through quickly, my sundress and leggings sodden. I didn’t care. Jimmy had ended things. He’d called me on my erratic behavior, had admitted how hard he’d fallen for me, then he’d driven away.
With my heart.
It was all clear, suddenly, how I’d let us derail. Jimmy had apologized for his abrupt behavior, had asked for a chance to explain, but I’d clung to his indiscretion, allowing it to taint my mind. All to make pushing him away easier. I’d sabotaged our relationship from the start, holding back, taking instead of giving, so many stupid fears feeding my actions. But I was unprepared for him to end things, each word cutting deeper than expected. Watching him drive away had been worse, my chest caving the farther he got.
And I needed to get him back.
The rain pounded the pavement, tires spraying water as cars rushed by. I wrapped my arms around my legs, lay my chin on my knees. I wouldn’t move from this spot until Jimmy returned and I apologized for my cowardice. I’d live here, if need be.
An eternity later, a familiar voice, deep and rich, said, “Rachel?”
My head snapped up. Jimmy’s hair was as soaked as mine, his clothing, too. We stayed immobile, as though the sky hadn’t opened up, dousing us with its fury. I dragged a hand across my face, unsure if tears were mixing with the rain.
This time I didn’t hesitate.
“I’m so sorry. I want you. I want to listen to you, understand you and your life, and I want us. I was scared and stupid, too many family issues holding me back.” My words fell as fast and hard as the downpour. “Yes, hearing you dismiss your mother like that and getting angry at me was hard, but I don’t know what you’ve been through. It was wrong of me to judge. And you may be frustrated with me, tired of my games, but I’m done playing. I think about you all the time, wondering what you’re doing. Hoping you’re thinking about me. You made today perfect, and I ruined it. And I’m just—”
“Ray.”
My heart hitched. He’d called me Ray. Not Rachel. It could have meant nothing. It could have meant everything. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling.
Then he said, “Get over here.”
My belly dipped and I jumped, opposing forces that had me shooting into his arms. We clawed at each other, everything soaking wet. Our mouths, wet. Our clothes, wet.
Salty tears dripped over our lips. “I’m sorry,” I said against his mouth.
“Shut up, Sunshine.”
We broke apart, long enough for him to grab his pack and helmets, then we ran upstairs. He slammed his apartment door behind us as we toed off our shoes. We left puddles in his living room, his bedroom, until we were in his bathroom, the showerhead spraying against the glass walls. We walked in clothed, and his hips pinned mine to the tiled wall. His cock was hard as granite in his jeans.
“You’re shaking,” he said, forehead pressed to mine.
Warm water sprayed over his head. I was still cold, my clothes locking in the chill, but the quiver in my limbs was all Jimmy. And we had too many layers between us. “I need you,” I said.
His nostrils flared. Eyes locked, we struggled with his T-shirt, the fabric suctioned to his body. We tossed it over the shower door, and it landed with a wet squiltch. My jacket and dress went next, leaving me in leggings and my bra, and him in jeans. His nipple piercings and silver chain rose with his shallow breaths.
We paused, not touching, ribbons of water dripping along Jimmy’s cut shoulders, over his tattoos, down his defined chest. So beautiful. So not what I’d pictured as the object of my desire. An image I was happy to overhaul.
My tears leaked again, the burn building as I acknowledged the mistakes I’d made. I placed my hand over his heart. “I won’t let you down again, but…I’m scared. I feel so much with you.”
His eyes searched mine—blue and gray, hard and soft. His dark hair was slicked back, those full lips inching closer. He kissed my cheeks, smoothed my tears with his wet thumbs. “This is how it’s supposed to feel. Kind of terrifying. And we still have stuff to talk through…but I want you, Ray. I’m all in.”
I reached around him and dragged my fingers down the grooves of his slippery back, knotted muscles shifting below my fingers. “Are you sure? I can be kind of anal. I mean, I like things tidy, and if we’re serious, you’ll have to meet my family.”
He pressed a finger to my lips. “I love anal, so that’s not an issue.” He winked. Such a bad boy. “Tidy makes messing things up more fun. As for us—I would love to meet the woman who raised you. I may look like a thug, but I can be charming.”
He sure could.
“Now get out of those leggings so I can fuck you in this shower.”
He could also be dirty.
We peeled off our layers, adding them to the river rising on his bathroom floor. His large hands gripped my ass and lifted as I wrapped my legs around his hips, all that male power pressed between my thighs. Power I had to touch.
One hand on his shoulder, I fisted his shaft with my other, reveling in the feel of him, so hard and thick, because he wanted me. I slid my hand up, root to tip, my thumb toying with the barbell under his swollen head, then I ground into him, pressing his length and piercing against me. Gone were my inhibitions, my reservations dripping down the drain with my tears. This man was all mine.
I swallowed my shyness. “Fuck me.” I dug my knees into his sides. “Hard.”
His pupils dilated, a low growl rumbling from his chest. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled his hips back until the tip of his cock dragged down my belly and lined up with my entrance. His thrust was forceful, slamming me against the wall. The raining water was hot, the tiles at my back cold, my body so full with Jimmy. With us. He kissed my collarbone. His teeth scraped my skin, water coasting over my open mouth as I groaned.
“You’re mine,” he said, wet sounds of slapping skin echoing in the small space. “
Don’t push me away again.”
“I won’t.” I pulled his hair, drank from his lips. “I’m yours.”
I think he said mine again, but his gravelly voice disappeared in our hungry kiss, our tongues tangling as they slid against each other. I met his thrusts, my eyes rolling back. Electricity hummed along my skin. The drag of his cock, in and out, fanned the sparks. Hotter. Wilder.
I apologized with my mouth, sucking a path down his neck, over the hard bone of his shoulder, sinking my teeth in when he pushed deeper. His fingers dug into my ass, possessive and hard enough to bruise. It spurred my lust.
“I’m so close,” I said.
“I’m right there. You make me fucking crazy.”
He changed our angle, freeing a hand to squeeze my breast and take my nipple into his mouth. My whole body clenched. Wet from the shower and his mouth and him, heat pulsed through me, sharp shocks that shook me to my core. His orgasm chased mine, both of us chanting fuck and yes as we stole our pleasure.
My limbs slackened. We traded lazy kisses as he pulled out of me and eased my legs to the floor. “I love your pierced cock,” I said against his mouth.
We swayed under the water, dancing to an unheard song. He rolled his tongue around mine in a long, sensual stroke. “I love your tits. The perfect handfuls.”
“I love the dimple in your chin.” I pressed my lips to the spot. “I only just noticed it, under all that sexy scruff.”
He lifted my left leg by the knee and coasted his fingers up my thigh. “I could spend a week worshipping your legs, and I fucking love your badass tattoo.” He released my leg and slapped my hip.
“Nipple,” I said, circling the flat of his with my thumb, trailing the piercing.
“Neck.” He tasted my skin.
We named each body part we loved, punctuating the claims with a lick or kiss or nip, the water unrelenting, my chill extinguished, everything deliciously warm. We didn’t say we loved each other. There was still too much vulnerability between us. Too much uncertainty. But we said enough.
Then his face was between my thighs. I came on his tongue, shuddering until I sank to my knees, too. More kissing. More groping. I pushed him to his feet and took him in my mouth, pulling a long, hard orgasm from him. I’d never enjoyed giving head as much as I did with Jimmy. The power. The control. His thickness in my mouth and piercing on my tongue.
Later, we sat cross-legged on his bed, Jimmy in his black briefs, me in his Harley-Davidson shirt, a bowl of red grapes between us. I popped one into my mouth. The sweet juice mixed with the tannic skin. “When you were a kid,” I said, “what did you want to be when you grew up?”
He plucked a grape and spun it through his fingers. He grinned, boyish and sweet. “A professional wrestler. Like in the WWE, not the Olympic kind. I was addicted to the shows, had all the action figures. Even had a name picked out for my wrestling persona.”
I flicked his ankle. “Spill it.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The Grisly Greek.”
I tried to stifle my laugh, but picturing a young Jimmy puffing up his chest and reenacting wrestling scenes as the Grisly Greek was too much. “Wow, yeah. I think you missed your calling.”
“Your turn, smart ass. Aside from your endless list of jobs, what did seven-year-old Rachel want to be?”
The title winemaker pushed to the tip of my tongue, but we were talking about childhood dreams and fantasies. There was my ballerina phase, but it hadn’t lasted long. My other wish was a lot more embarrassing. “I don’t want to say.”
“You brought it up.”
“I’m changing the topic.”
His hair had started drying, wavy black strands standing on end, a glorious mess framing his handsome face. If he really were a wrestling star, I’d name him the Heartthrob.
“Not a chance,” he said.
The Stubborn Heartthrob.
I picked up a grape and peeled its skin—a habit that drove my brother nuts—one thin strip at a time. “Fine. But this stays between us. Gwen and Ainsley would never let me live it down.”
He rolled his hand, coaxing me on, and I sighed, slipping the naked grape into my mouth. “Big Bird,” I said.
“You wanted to be a big bird? As in fly?”
“No, like Big Bird. From Sesame Street. I wanted to be Big Bird.”
He tipped his head back, laughing. “Oh, babe, that’s priceless. I’ll be in charge of Halloween costumes this year.”
“Not on your life.” My cheeks heated, and when his comment sunk in, they positively burned. Halloween was in five months. Jimmy was imagining us together…in five months.
Why had I fought this feeling so long?
Still chuckling, he wrinkled his nose at my grape peelings and grabbed another, chewing slowly. “What’s your greatest fear?”
The mood sobered, intensity in his gaze. We hadn’t spoken of our argument yet, but it was there, below the surface, under the lines etched between his dark eyebrows. If nothing else, I owed him my honesty.
“Disappointing my family. When my brother got in trouble for leaving his room messy, I’d run to mine and check that my clothes were put away. Mitch has always been smart and driven, but he pushed his boundaries—skipping classes and winding up in detention. The more he rebelled, the tighter I toed the line. Like I had something to prove, maybe. The one time I colored outside the lines was with a guy like you.”
“Like me?”
“Not like you like you, but the dangerous kind with blue hair and ink and a collection of punk albums. Dating him drove a wedge between my mother and me, and it ended in a huge fight with my dad, which was the last time I saw him. So all this stuff”—I gestured between us—“the way I’ve put you off and have been difficult was tied to this fear of mine. Letting my parents down again. Especially my father.” I rubbed at a dry spot on my heel.
He placed two fingers under my chin and forced my eyes on his. “You’re a strong woman. Independent. You have friends who love you, and you care about your mother and brother, more than most people I know. He’d be proud.”
Tears threatened again, a familiar wave of regret and sadness and longing for my father. A day didn’t pass where I didn’t think of him or silently ask his advice. When I opened my heart to the pain, it became hard to breathe. Even now, five years later, his loss had the power to break me.
I grasped Jimmy’s hand from below my chin and kissed his palm. “What about you? What’s your greatest fear?”
He threaded our fingers together. “The opposite of yours. Ending up like my father. Cold. Bitter. Stubborn. Having kids and never showing them affection. I’m scared I’m just like him.” Turmoil thickened his voice.
He may have been a stubborn mule—exactly how Alena had labeled her husband—but Jimmy was as far from cold as a man could be. “When I’m with you, you make me feel sexy and precious. That’s a man unafraid to show affection.”
He untucked one of his feet and placed it by my hip, settling his inked elbow on his knee. He ran his fingers through my damp hair. “You do crazy things to me, Sunshine.”
I purred at his admission. “The feeling is mutual. And I know you’re angry at your family, but that’s because you care. Apathy would be worse.” I touched his toned calf, dragged my nails through his dark hairs. “What happened? I want to know, and I won’t get mad. I just want to understand.”
Drawing a deep breath, he stretched his neck and exhaled. Then he spoke softly, the story binding us closer. We could share our hopes and dreams all we wanted, but the ugly truth was the iron that branded lovers. He started with Sophia, a name I was starting to loathe.
Meeting her in the grocery store had itched at me, but that was before. Now Jimmy was mine. My jealousy was irrational, but here I was, playing that name game in my head, rhyming Sophia with Banana-fana fo-phia like a schoolyard bully. Pulling her hair and kicking her shins would have felt better. Still, I listened. His hand was in my hair, mine on his leg as he bled it all out: So
phia’s family, the land dispute, and the ultimatum dished out by his father. The worst was the argument.
“The bastard tried to hit me.” Jimmy practically spat the words. “I was bigger than him, stronger, but he was so mad he raised his palm to backhand me across the face.”
He pulled away, releasing my neck to scrub his own. His body bristled with anger. “When I caught his wrist, he was livid. Called me a mistake. A disappointment. Told me no son of his would marry an enemy. The whole thing was surreal, like we’d spun the clock back to the sixteenth century. But he meant every word, and my mother listened to the whole damn thing. Aside from yelling at him once to stop, she let it play out. Neither of them called afterward, not that I would have answered. I had Sophia and, as far as I was concerned, she was enough. Until she fucked me over, too.”
He dropped his head, as though the weight of his confession pressed on his shoulders. When he looked up, his eyes were a river of pain. “They discarded me like trash. Who does that to their kid? And why does it still hurt?”
Heart breaking for him, I pushed the bowl of grapes aside and straddled his lap. “Because you still love them. They’re your parents, your family, and you still care.” I pulled his head to my chest and pushed my fingers through his hair. “You might not be ready to forgive them now, but maybe in time, you will. Maybe, if you have a family one day, you’ll want your kids to meet their grandparents.”
He fisted the back of my shirt and buried his face in my neck, but he didn’t reply.
My lingering guilt bloomed. He was right, earlier, saying he wasn’t the bad guy. My father had loved me. We may have had arguments, and I’d thrown a tantrum or fifty growing up, but I’d never questioned my place in my family. To be told you weren’t wanted could push anyone over the edge. Add losing your livelihood and love, and it was no wonder Jimmy shut them out.
If his mother called now, I’d probably give her a piece of my mind. Nice Rachel would let Reckless Rachel loose.
But there’d been regret in Alena’s voice. She missed her son, and his father might have come around, too. It was still possible for her to ease Jimmy’s pain. For that, I would help any way I could. Jimmy couldn’t be pushed, but if the situation presented itself, I’d find a way to bridge the gap between them.
Legs (One Wild Wish, #1) Page 17