by Evelyn Glass
As soon as we were through the door, I dropped the bags, flopped down on to the couch, and watched as Jazz carried Ella through to one of the bedrooms and tucked her carefully into the covers. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but smile at how sweet and tender he was with her. He made his way back through to the living area and glanced down at me.
Chapter Seventeen
“What are you grinning about?” I asked as I sat down on the edge of the couch next to Mona. She shook her head and glanced in Ella’s direction.
“Nothing,” she replied, and let out a yawn. “God, I’m exhausted.”
“Well, I’m just hungry.” I got to my feet and made my way over to what I assumed stood in for the kitchen; a small counter, a stovetop, and a cupboard. I opened the cupboard, and found it stocked with the basics—pasta, oil, some vegetables. I pulled out a handful of ingredients and set about making us something to eat. Mona watched me in silence from the couch, and I wondered whether she was regretting agreeing to come with me. She probably wanted her own bed in her own apartment by now—but I didn’t know what I’d have done without her here. I would never have asked for or expected her presence here, but I was glad to have it.
“What are you making?” Mona got to her feet and peered into the pot I was now stirring atop the stove.
“Just some pasta.” I shrugged. “There’s not much here to work with, honestly.”
“It smells amazing,” she sighed, and leaned up against the counter for a moment. She eyed me for a moment, and I suddenly became very aware of how alone we were together. Any attempts we might have made to keeping this thing entirely platonic seemed to be undercut by the machinations of the universe.
“I can’t wait till this is all done with,” she went on, and I glanced up at her, brow furrowed.
“What, dinner?”
“No!” She laughed at my lack of comprehension. “All of this. You know, when we catch whoever it was and get this sorted for good.”
“I don’t think we have to pretend we don’t know who it was,” I pointed out. “It’s Ian. It’s just a matter of getting our hands on him, wherever he is.”
“Fair point,” she admitted.
“But you’re right.” I glanced up at her. “When this is done…”
I trailed off. I knew what I wanted to say—that when this was done, the two of us could be together and that would be that. Well, if she still wanted me after all this time and everything that had already wedged itself between us. I turned back to the pot, hoping she didn’t fill in the blanks for herself. But Mona wasn’t that stupid; she cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, honing in on what I hadn’t said.
“What are you going to do when this is done?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “This…so much has changed. Not just because of this.”
I looked up at her, and I could see the comprehension in her face, the look that told me that yes, she understood what I meant and yes, she felt the same way. She had come into my life adjacent to this nightmare, and it felt as though she would always be connected to it. Until we could put it to bed, she would be embroiled in it in the back of my mind. I knew it was all coincidence, but that didn’t do much to assuage the irrationality at the back of my brain that said different.
“I know,” she murmured.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I blurted out. I didn’t mean it to sound so needy, and I instantly turned back to the food to avoid her gaze—but I couldn’t unsay it. I didn’t want to. It was true, after all.
“I’ll be here as long as you need me,” she assured me, placing a hand on my arm—there it was again, that flicker of attraction and affection between us, the one that I had been doing my best to ignore up until now. She moved her hand, as though she felt it too and didn’t want to push our luck. I spoke again, filling the silence.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, smiling at how ridiculous it sounded. “After her mom dumped me, I didn’t want to let anyone else get too close to her. I thought, if her mom can just up and leave, what’s there to keep anyone else from doing the same?”
“Is that why you never dated?”
I didn’t meet her gaze, but I nodded. “The thought of dragging her through all of that again, I just couldn’t bear it,” I went on, tasting the sauce that was coming together nicely in the pot in front of us.
“So that’s why you kept me as the babysitter.” She cocked an eyebrow. “So you could keep me at arm’s length.”
I hesitated; I knew I should have shut the conversation down before it even started, but it seemed stupid to try and deny the obvious. Everything was so raw tonight, the evening around us feeling as though it couldn’t possibly be happening in real life. And in that strange space, I felt as though I could say anything.
“Yes,” I admitted with a nod. I still couldn’t look at her—if I so much as glanced in her direction, I knew that I would gum up again.
“Jazz…” She got to her feet, and just hearing her say my name sent a prickle up my back. Fuck, this woman—I had no idea how I felt about her, whether it was lust or love or something in between, but she had an effect on me that no one else had ever had in my life.
“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” she murmured, her voice low. It was the first time either of us had mentioned it since we’d had that conversation agreeing to keep sex and romance off the table. But then, how long could we conceivably pretend that it hadn’t happened? It was so obvious there was something between us, and hearing her confirm it just made it even harder to ignore.
I didn’t reply, unable to find the words to say what I needed to. I pulled the pot from the stove instead, and began plating up dinner in silence. I handed her a plate, and she took it gratefully and began to tuck in. Okay, maybe we could move past this…? Maybe there was some way to pretend that conversation had never happened. Yeah, we were both vulnerable and emotional and hungry and that was all it came down to.
We sat at opposite ends of the couch, and I groped around for something to talk about. But my mind kept drifting back to what she had said—that she hadn’t been able to get the night we spent together out of her brain. I knew exactly what she meant, because those memories had lingered at the back of my mind for longer than I’d have cared to admit.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, shaking her head.
“What for?”
“I shouldn’t have brought any of it up,” she sighed. “I know we agreed…I know we agreed that we weren’t going to let it get in the way of things with Ella.”
I glanced over my shoulder, towards the room where Ella was distantly out for the count. I looked back at Mona, my gaze meeting hers at last. God, those eyes—they had been the first thing I’d really noticed about her, and even now, I had to admit that they were haunting me.
“Ella’s safe,” I remarked, finishing up my dinner and putting down my plate. “As safe as she can be, anyway. For now.”
Mona followed my lead, placing her plate next to mine on the small coffee table in front of us. There was nothing between us now, nothing to deflect everything we’d done so well to hide from each other.
“She is,” Mona agreed. “For now.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it, either,” I admitted, voice low. “I…you’re amazing.”
“I know.” She flashed me a cocky grin, making me laugh. The tension seemed to drop away, and she shifted a little closer to me, closing the gap between us. My fingertips were only an inch or two from the bare skin of her neck, and I fought the urge to reach out and skim them along her collarbone. To see her reaction, to watch her squirm in front of me. “I know that…” She took a deep breath before she spoke again, as if she knew that getting this next bit right was crucial. “I know that you’re nervous about bringing someone new into Ella’s life. But I’m already in it. And she’d never have to know about…us. Not until we were ready.”
She scanned my face for a reaction and, upon not finding o
ne, seemed to panic.
“Only if you want this,” she continued hurriedly. A smile curled onto my lips at the ridiculousness of her statement. There was never any “if” in the equation. I’d wanted Mona from the moment I laid eyes on her, and that had only grown more intense with the time that had passed; my lust had turned to something heavier and headier, something that meant more than anything else I’d felt for a grown-ass woman before.
She glanced down at my mouth, then back up to my eyes, and I reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes and her lips parted; I paused for a moment, watching her, taking her in in this strangely intimate moment. She was lost in my touch, and I knew there was no point in fighting the urges any more. I wanted her, she wanted me, and there was nothing more either of us could do to keep Ella any safer than she already was in that moment. Everything dropped away, and I leaned forward and planted my lips against hers.
She caught my face in her hands and pulled me close, at once frantic and savoring every touch; our tongues met, and I pulled her on top of me. She tasted just as I remembered her tasting, but this time, it was different—I wasn’t driven by adrenaline. I wanted her because I wanted her. No one else would do. The thought that I had ever wanted anyone before I wanted her seemed ridiculous in retrospect, as I slid my hand around her waist and pulled her body taut against mine.
She pulled back for a moment and let out a short breath, staring into my eyes, before we resumed our making out. It was as though she wanted to confirm that it was really me, that this was really happening. I knew exactly how she felt—I kept on stroking her hair, reminding myself that this was Mona, the only woman I felt as though I’d ever truly trusted. Her sweet scent enveloped me, and I wondered if I could bottle it to spray on my pillow at night before I went to sleep, so I could pretend that she was still there next to me.
“Are you sure about this?” I breathed into her ear. I knew that we needed a back-out clause, needed to know that if this went wrong we could blame it on ourselves. Because I knew that this was a gamble. Even going this far was probably pushing our luck, knowing that this thing between us was real and potent and serious and that if we wanted to we could probably make it work. Tantalizing ourselves with the promise of something we didn’t really know for sure we could make work yet was dangerous, and we both knew it.
“Yes,” she replied, her gaze meeting mine fleetingly. She rolled down on to the couch and pulled me on top of her, so we were flat against each other; her body was soft and cool beneath my own, and I kissed her once again. I didn’t give a shit what kind of bad decisions we were making. I just knew that I couldn’t let this stop. It felt different to the last time, as though something was urging us on, something beyond simple desire.
Chapter Eighteen
I had never felt anything like this before in my life. As I pulled him down on top of me, I felt my heart swell with something—an emotion I couldn’t quite put my finger on, something that seemed to defy explanation or reasoning. I raked my nails down his back, and even through his shirt, I could feel him react; arching up to get closer to me, to feel me near him. This wasn’t like before. The last time, it had all been about fucking and trying each other on for size, but this time around…my brain was aching from the whirl of emotions that were pulsing through me with every heartbeat.
I pulled my hand around and placed it on his chest, feeling around until I could make out the pulse of his heart against my fingertips. He pulled back and looked at me, lifting his hand so he could interlock his fingers with mine; both of us, there, staring at each other as we focused on the sensation of his heart beating against our joined hands. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that—could have been a second, could have been an hour—but for that moment, nothing mattered but him and me. Everything else seemed to drop away around us, leaving as bare and raw and alone amongst the mess that had sprung up around us.
He leaned down slowly, and caught my lip between his teeth; he tugged on it gently, sending the blood rushing to the surface of my skin. Every motion seemed to be carefully premediated, as if he’d known exactly what he wanted to do with me from the moment I got out of his bed the first time around. He’d been thinking about it as much as I had, and I had every intention of making the most of whatever time we had together. I wasn’t sure what would happen next—whether we would wake up tomorrow and find another layer added to this strange story of ours, one that would push us apart all over again—and all I wanted was to be able to cling on to this moment while we still had it. It was desperate, yes, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t real.
He moved down, kissing my chin and my throat and that spot where my neck met my breasts. His mouth was warm despite the cool air in the apartment surrounding us, and as soon as his lips met my skin, I knew I wanted more. There would be no stopping this. Nothing could come between us—not the building collapsing around us where we sat—this needed to happen, had needed to happen since the first time we ended up in his bed. I had never felt for anyone the way I did for Jazz in that moment—a build-up of the care and desire and affection we’d built between us over the last few months released in that moment. I felt tears prick my eyes, my mind confused at trying to make sense of so many emotions at once—but I dismissed them, tilting my head so I could watch him moving down my body. I giggled as I watched him flip up my shirt and plant a kiss against my belly—he looked up at me and smiled.
“You smell so good,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to my skin again and skimming his lips up against me. Then, before I knew it, he was between my legs again, fumbling with the fly on my jeans and slipping my panties over my hips. Just like last time. As though he’d been craving me—wanting me all this time without me knowing about it. I wondered if he’d laid in bed late at night and found his mind drifting to the feel of his mouth on my pussy; I knew I had, no matter how much I’d tried to deny it over the past few weeks.
He paused once my jeans were off, and looked up at me; he was close enough that I could feel his breath on me again, and it was sending waves of tingles down my spine. But he didn’t seem to have any intention of going down on me.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered, his voice gentle but fierce in the same breath. I did as I was told at once, not even thinking twice as I slid my hand between my legs. He parted my thighs so he could watch, even though he seemed more trained in on my face than the movement of my fingers. Blood pulsed around my head and my heart began to crash against my ribs as I slipped my fingers against my slick pussy—the relief was palpable, but the look on his face as he watched me was almost too much to take. I had no idea that someone not touching me could be so erotic. His eyes flicked down to my cunt and back up to me as I pushed a finger inside of myself, squirming against it, putting on a show. I wanted him to know how much he turned me on, to see in no uncertain terms that I desired him in ways I couldn’t even imagine.
I always wondered what it would be like if we hooked up again—if the tantalizing wrongness of the situation would serve as the main drive behind it, making it hot, or whether the lust would have vanished after the first time. I was incorrect on both counts; no, something deeper existed between us now. I couldn’t have put it into words—or maybe I was just too afraid to, yet—but it was intoxicating and sexy and intimate and before I knew it I found myself on the brink of coming.
I let out a sharp gasp as I climaxed, my entire body tensing and relaxing in one wave of motion as it happened. Before I had a chance to even think anything else, Jazz caught my fingers in his mouth, sucking lightly; I closed my eyes and focused on the feeling of his tongue against the pads of my hand, and then realized that he was unbuckling his jeans as well. I propped myself up on my elbows as he hurriedly undressed, then climbed up on top of me to kiss me again.
“Can I—”
“God, yes,” I sighed against his ear, not even needing to hear the rest of what he was saying for me to know that I wanted it, wanted him, without question. He grabbed the
base of his cock, lined it up, and thrust into me in one swift motion.
“Ah!” I gasped, trying to keep my voice down. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face against his shoulder, letting his skin muffle the sound of my cries. He moved slowly at first, taking his time until he was all the way inside of me. I arched my hips up, and hooked my ankles together around his waist to allow him deeper access. I closed my eyes and let him fuck me, all too happy to hand over control of the situation to him. He caught my face in one hand and tilted it towards him, kissing me again—this time gently, chaste despite what was going on below the waist. He opened his eyes and looked at me, taking me in, his gaze searching as he thrust harder than before. I pressed a kiss against his chin, running my finger along the sharp line of his jaw and wondering how the hell I had ended up with a man as spectacular as Jazz.
Jazz began to move faster, his breath coming in ragged pants against my ear. I ground up against him, already on the brink of coming again; the second orgasm felt mellow and soft compared to the first, a release rather than a relief, and I let out a small, satisfied moan against his skin. I’d forgotten how good he smelled, and I tightened my grip on him, inhaling deeply, wondering how we’d ever let this get away, how we’d not been doing this since the moment we met.