Fire and Ice (Sticks & Hearts Book 2)

by Rhonda James

  One look at her, and I can tell she’s doing her best to keep herself from crying in front of all these people. I gently pull her hand away from her face and see a cut on her cheek from where the bastard backhanded her. He must have been wearing a fucking ring. I see that mark, and all I feel is rage.

  But Laney needs me. I’ll let Cage handle it.

  I pull her in tight against my chest, and we head away from the dance floor. As we move past where Cage is pummeling the guy, I flash him Laney’s cheek. His eyes narrow in anger when he sees the gash, and he responds by crushing his fist into the guy’s jaw. I hear another sickening crunch and see the gush of blood spray from the guy’s mouth. He leaves him in a heap on the floor, and we slip out the front door without anyone stopping us. It’s almost as if nothing ever happened.

  But we know different…

  Back at the house, she’s quiet. Too quiet. In fact, none of us said much on the ride home either. I follow her upstairs, unsure of what I’m supposed to do next. I want to hold her, but she’s just been violated by an asshole she didn’t even know. And then he called her a whore. I know how much she hates that derogatory reference. I can’t say I blame her. When I heard the hateful word come out of his mouth, I hated it, too. And I hated that he’d used it on the woman I love more than anything else in this world. And now I’m here and don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to help her.

  I tap lightly on the bathroom door, but she doesn’t answer me. I push the door open with one finger, just enough to see inside. She’s sitting on the lid of the toilet and staring blankly into the shower stall. I edge the door open a little further and quietly slip inside. I blow out a deep breath and walk over to the edge of the tub to sit down in front of her. She still hasn’t said anything, but when our eyes meet, I see hers are brimming with tears.

  “Oh, baby.” I drop to my knees and wrap my arms around her. When she doesn’t fight me, I inch a little closer until I’m settled between her legs and her head is resting comfortably on my shoulder. “Tell me what to do, honey. I don’t know how to help you.” My voice breaks and I try my best to hold it together. But it’s hard. I’m scared.

  “He called me a whore,” she whispers against my shoulder.

  “I know, baby.” I rub my hands up and down her back and keep pressing kisses against her temple. “Laney. Did he—? Did his hand—?”

  “No.” Her head shakes back and forth adamantly. “His hand only touched my thigh. I moved away before he got any further. He just freaked me out a little.” She shivers in my arms.

  “That guy was an asshole. He had no right to touch you. Period. And no man ever has the right to hit a woman. When I heard that sound and heard you cry out, I swear to God I wanted to kill him. If those people hadn’t been standing there, I might have done it.” My voice sounds cold and detached. Even I don’t recognize it. The need to protect her was so strong, I gave no thought to the consequences an act like that would have on our lives. All I thought about was what she needed from me at that given moment in time. I understand now what they mean when you hear people say that love is a dangerous thing. Loving someone that much can be dangerous. But it can also be beautiful and spontaneous.

  “He did it because of the way I was dressed. I was asking for it. I should have listened to you earlier and worn something different.” She diverts her eyes away from mine. I don’t like it.

  “Baby, that’s not true.” I stroke one finger gently down the side of her face. My touch is all it takes for her to look at me once more. The tears have broken free now, staining her cheeks with their wetness. “You were dressed the same way half the other women there were dressed. Don’t do this to yourself. This wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’ve seen him before. At The Library. He’s a customer there. I waited on him a couple of weeks ago. And I’ve seen him on other nights when I’ve been dancing,” she says quietly.

  “Laney, has something like this happened before?” I ask warily, already angry because I know the answer that’s coming.

  She simply nods and pulls away from me, tucking her arms around her middle. Her eyes dart nervously around the room, and when they finally land on mine, I see the look of quiet vulnerability trapped beneath the mask she often wears. It’s not always present, not lately anyway, but it still makes an appearance during times when she’s most upset. Times like now. Or when we were at dinner with my parents. During the ride back from Pentwater. She’d been wearing it the night we met also. The bold girl who’d burst into my hotel room wasn’t the same as the one who ran away from me that night. Oh, she was still the same girl, but different somehow. While I’d first been attracted to her bold and adventurous side, it was her vulnerable side that made me fall in love with her. I like the way she looks at me when we’re making love and she’s teetering on the edge of an orgasm. It’s one of those moments when she lets go and quietly gives me control over her body. I can tell it’s not easy for her to trust someone enough to care for her the way she deserves, but by some small miracle, she’s opened herself up to me, and little by little she’s given me her trust. It’s an act I don’t take for granted.

  Delaney Dixon is a complex woman, and loving her requires much more than me stringing three words together and hoping I use them at the right time. In the beginning, it took patience, because she was afraid I would break her heart. Loving her also requires acceptance, because even though she’s opened up about herself, there are still things she’s holding on to, as if she’s afraid I’ll walk away from her if I see what’s hidden behind that last remaining wall I haven’t been able to break through. Despite all of that, loving her has been easy. In fact, loving her is the most natural thing I’ve ever done.

  “I haven’t said anything before, because I didn’t feel it was my place, but I don’t like you working there. And it’s not only because I hate knowing all those men get to look at you. They get to see what only I should be seeing. I don’t like sharing you that way. I hate everything about you working there. But most of all, I hate that men feel they have a right to touch you just because of what you do. You’re not a whore and you’re not worthless, and that is exactly how working there makes you feel about yourself. You won’t admit it, but I see it. I see it in your eyes. In your body language. In the way you present yourself. You are so much more than that. Go in there tomorrow and tell your boss you quit. Walk away and leave all of that negativity behind,” I plead with her.

  She looks horror stricken by my words and actually pushes me away from her, but I don’t go willingly. “I can’t!” Her voice wobbles. “I need the money for school. I don’t have rich parents here to take care of me. I have to take care of myself. That job brings me a lot of money, and right now, I need it. I don’t plan on working there forever. Just a little longer until I have enough saved up,” she says quietly, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince me.

  “Baby, you don’t need that job. Look for something else, and in the meantime, let me help you,” I offer, knowing immediately it was a bad idea. She’s too proud to ever allow me to offer her money, let alone come right out and ask for it. That’s exactly what Mom had predicted she would do. After hearing that, there’s no way in hell she’ll ever consider it now.

  “I told you. I don’t need your money. And I don’t want your money. I’ll handle this on my own.” She pulls herself together and brushes the tears away from her face. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take a shower. I feel dirty and just need some time to myself. Please go.”

  There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I hate that she’s pushing me away, but I understand this is what she needs right now. It kills me that I’m not what she needs, but there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I want to pull her to me and cover her lips with mine. Instead, I rise to my feet and reluctantly walk away and close the door behind me. The sound of her sobs stops me in my tracks, and I turn around with my hand on the doorknob, ready to rush back insi
de. But I don’t. My presence isn’t going to make this any easier for her; it may only make it worse. I can’t leave her, so instead, I press my ear to the door and torture myself with the sound of her gut-wrenching sobs. I lay my hand flat against the wood, hoping somehow she can feel I’m still here. At some point, my own tears have stained my cheeks and soaked my shirt. It hurts like hell to listen to the one you love crying their eyes out and you’re stuck on the other side of the door feeling helpless. But I can’t bring myself to walk away. So I sink down to the floor with my back pressed against the door and cry with her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  LANEY

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been crying, but at some point, the tears just stop coming. I’d cried hard. Really hard. I’m sure Derek feels like he’s to blame for my breakdown, but he couldn’t be more wrong. This is all my doing. From the job, to my dress, to the lies and deceit. I want so badly to tell him the truth about my dad and the house, and I came close. When he offered to help me pay for school, I felt so guilty for lying to him. Everything his mom said about me came crashing into my head, and I wanted to throw up. I can’t accept his help, not financially anyway. If I did that, it would just prove she’d been right about me all along.

  I didn’t choose to stay with Derek because of what he has to offer. Did I?

  Until that moment, I’d never allowed myself to ask that question. Surely, I hadn’t done that. Surely, I loved him for all the reasons that went above and beyond what he had in his bank account. Which, by the way, I don’t have a fucking clue how much it is. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Now or ever.

  But especially now that he’s offered. He doesn’t know it, but his offering changed everything. It made me start questioning everything about myself. About him. About us.

  Can I stay with him after this? Should I? If I’m unable to answer the question of if I pursued him for his money, then I’m not sure I should be with him at all. He deserves more than that. He deserves a girl who’s going to love him no matter what. And before tonight, I thought I was that girl. Now the doubt has started to creep in, and I’m standing in the middle of his bathroom scared shitless. I’m afraid I won’t be enough for him, yet I’m terrified of walking away if I’m not.

  I get undressed and step inside the shower. The hot water beats down on the tired muscles of my back. Sore from all the crying and tension of holding everything inside for so long. I hate feeling vulnerable and weak. I hate knowing I need someone so much. I hate being dependent on someone. Giving someone that much control over you opens you up for pain and heartbreak when they’re gone. I know Derek loves me, but sooner or later, he’s going to leave me. Whether by his doing, my own, or by God’s hand. It’s inevitable.

  My head and my heart hurt. I know what I should do, but I also know I’m not strong enough to do it. So I stand under the water and allow the rivulets to wash over me. I’m tired and long for an escape from the reality that is my life. I thought having Derek in my life would make me forget about everything else that was going on, but it was only a short distraction.

  The best kind of distraction.

  Maybe if I stand here long enough, the water will wash away all the pain and heartache I’ve been carrying around. Maybe when the water is turned off, I’ll wake up from this nightmare and Derek will still be standing there when I open my eyes.

  God, I hope so.

  I hear the click of the lock and see the rustling of the shower curtain. I know I should turn around and tell him no. But I don’t. His arms come around me, and his naked body is flush with mine. Without a word, he pulls the wet strands of hair off to one side, and his lips find the soft place on my neck. The place he knows so well. He knows I love it when he kisses me there. He knows what it does to me. How it affects certain places on my body. Right now, he’s not playing fair. We both know this, yet we can’t deny the strong pull existing between us.

  He reaches for a bar of soap, and I close my eyes and feel his hands as they massage my slick skin, covering me in soapsuds. He washes down and under my arms, one at a time, then his hands work the muscles in my back and circle each buttock. He parts my cleft with the side of his hand, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake. He works the bar into a lather again before coming around to the front half of my body. His hands move simultaneously down each side then circle back underneath my breasts and over my stomach. The whole time he’s washing me, his lips and tongue tease along my neck and jawline, careful to avoid my mouth. His fingertips brush across my nipples, and I bring my arms up behind me and clasp them around his neck. I rock my ass back against him, feeling the hard length of him pressed against my back. It feels so good. And I want him. So. So. Badly.

  “Baby, promise me you won’t keep pushing me away. I just want to be there for you. I’ll give you whatever you need. You just have to tell me what that is,” he whispers hoarsely in my ear. His hand drops down between my legs, where he soaps me lightly and then rinses before cupping his hand over my mound and pressing me back until his cock settles in the crack of my ass. It feels so good I rub myself over him until we are both moaning and his fingers plunge deep inside my slick heat. I brace my hands flat against the tiled wall, and he bends at the knees, curling himself over my body while his fingers fuck me relentlessly. His thumb works my tightened bud, pressing the barbell deep into the sensitive flesh. It should hurt, but it doesn’t.

  Nothing hurts when he touches me.

  I rock slowly against his hand, matching the rhythm of each stroke his hand makes. His mouth licks and sucks at my flesh, and his free hand plays with my nipple. He surrounds me, doing what he can to prove he will take control of everything if only I’ll hand myself over to him completely. I want to, but I’m not ready. Not right now. I need more time. I break free of his hold and drop to my knees in front of him.

  His smooth cock stands between us, a mere inch away from my lips. I stretch forward and drag my tongue from base to tip. Clear liquid beads in the small slit, and I lick it away.

  He fists the hair at the back of my head and growls out my name. “Laney.” I peer up at him through wet lashes and take him fully in my mouth. His legs almost buckle out from under him. “Fuck. That feels good.” He leans back against the shower wall while still keeping a tight hold on my hair.

  Water beats down over my head, nearly drowning me, but I don’t stop my relentless pursuit to make him come in my mouth. Of all the times we’ve been together, I’ve only gone down on him a few times. It’s not that I don’t enjoy giving a blowjob. I actually love it. I love the feeling of power it gives me. Having the most intimate part of him in my mouth. Knowing I’m the one responsible for all of his pleasure. I kiss my way down one side and up the other. The base of his shaft is in my right hand, and I cup his balls with my left. I circle the swollen head with the tip of my tongue. His hips flex, forcing him a little deeper inside my mouth. I flatten my tongue and open wider, granting him full access to the heat. He leans to the side and turns off the water with his free hand, making it easier for me to breathe.

  My head bobs between his legs as my name falls past his lips like some form of a prayer. I pick up the pace, taking him all the way to the back of my throat then hollowing out my cheeks on the way back up until I reach just below the crown and my lips tighten around him to create suction.

  “Laney,” he warns. “Baby, I’m not going to be able to hold it.” He tries to pull away from me, but I lock my fingers around his base and suck harder. Deeper. He lifts his hips and groans as the first ribbon of semen meets my hungry tongue. I don’t pull away. I drink him in. Never taking my eyes off him as I savor every last drop he offers me. Watching him lose control, knowing I am the one responsible. Knowing I’m the one he loves. It resonates deep within me, and I know that I’m going to have to tell him everything soon or risk the chance of losing the only man I’ve ever truly loved.

  The only man to ever truly love me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  DEREK<
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  Three days…

  That’s how long it’s been since I last spoke to Laney. Three days ago I left her sleeping in my bed when I went to class. An hour later, I returned to find her gone. No note. No text. She won’t answer my calls.

  Something is definitely wrong. But I’m afraid if I press her for information, I’ll only end up driving her further away.

  What’s ironic is, I fear I’m already losing her…

  CHAPTER FORTY

  LANEY

  Please, God. Please let there only be one line.

  The timer goes off, and I tentatively reach over and pick up the thin pink and white stick. It’s almost hard to believe something this small could deliver news that would knock you flat on your ass if you weren’t prepared for it.

  I open my eyes and look down. My heart sinks for the second time this morning. I place this one on the counter next to the first test I tried. Both tests show the same result.

  A single line means negative for pregnancy. Two lines mean positive. Put the two tests together, and I have a total of four lines. That can’t be good. Right? I lift the toilet seat and promptly throw up the contents of my stomach. This is the third time this week I’ve had morning sickness. I should have suspected something was wrong the other night when it hurt to have Derek fondling my breasts. Coffee didn’t taste right, and last night on my way home after work, I picked up a burger and couldn’t bring myself to finish it. I had a headache from my lack of caffeine, and my stomach was queasy from the morning sickness and the glass of orange juice I made the mistake of drinking this morning.

  I can’t be pregnant. How can I be pregnant when I’m on the pill?

  I know how it’s possible. I’m not stupid. No birth control is foolproof, except abstinence, and there’s no way I would have turned down the opportunity to have sex with Derek. We’ve been so careful, but there was that one morning in his parents’ house. God, that was some amazing sex. I should have known. If anyone’s sperm could get past my birth control, it would be Derek’s. Everything about him screams success. Of course, his boys would swim faster than anyone else’s. Or maybe they skated, how the fuck would I know? Regardless, how the hell am I supposed to tell him he’s going to be a father when I can’t even tell him about the other shit going on in my life? I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know anything about being somebody’s parent.