Giving it Up (Brewhouse #1)
Page 12
I needed this to be a morning ritual. Coffee and Kevin and rough sex.
Kevin jackhammered into me once, twice more, and then he was coming too. His cock spasmed, and then he joined me in bliss.
Eighteen
Kevin
“I don’t want to go to work tomorrow,” Jo yawned into my chest. She was draped over me, nuzzling her lips into the hollow of my throat and offering me light kisses.
“I hate doing a shift after classes. It’s my one day a week that I have to work.”
Stroking my hand down her back, I pulled her closer. I loved how she fit against me. She was small, but the perfect height when we were cuddling together.
“What time do you get off?” I didn’t like the idea of Jo taking the bus after work.
“Not until after the dinner rush. Maybe nine-ish if my tables settle early.” Her words were muffled into my shoulder, a drowsy murmur that spoke of how exhausted she was. I didn’t feel an iota of guilt. If anything, I was completely, utterly content. Though I had meant to drive Jo home, I wanted her to stay another night. Now that she was in my bed, that was where she was going to stay as often as she could.
I brushed her purple-streaked hair back from her face. Rolling onto my side, I stared down into her adorable face. Her long lashes made crescent-shaped shadows on her cheeks. I hadn’t noticed before, but a light smattering of freckles adorned her nose and cheeks. Later, when we both weren’t half dead, I would kiss each one of them. “Do you want to come over after?”
She giggled into my chest. Another yawn scrunched her face. “Maybe,” she breathed into my chest. Her breath grew heavier. “I’ll let you know.”
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I drew the blankets up and over us.
For the first time in a long time I was at peace.
“You’re doing great.” I patted my client, a middle-aged man with a receded hairline and a thick gut who’d had a heart attack scare over Thanksgiving break, on the back. He had successfully completed a grueling workout with only a few breaks during it. Though he was a sweating, gasping mess, he’d made it through. That was the important part.
When he’d first arrived at the gym, overweight and panicked, I hadn’t been sure he’d stick around. The first workout had been difficult. He’d puked after I’d tested his athletic capability. That was normal, especially when going through a HIT - high intensity training – aerobic workout. A lot of the older guys who’d been out of the gym, or never been to a gym, were squeamish about it. Some societal embarrassment over natural body behaviors. I had been positive I wouldn’t see him again.
He’d proved me wrong, coming once a week to train with me for the past three months. He wasn’t addicted to the adrenaline rush that some in the gym chased. He was just a regular guy doing what he could for his health and family. Those types were my favorite people to work with. They were motivated to change, and while it was a 50/50 shot that the change would stick, each week they showed up improved their chances. The ones who realized it was a lifestyle change, not a quick fix or brief diet, were the ones who accomplished all the goals we set.
He gave me a tired smile. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week.”
Once my client left, I had a moment to check my phone, eager to see if Jo had sent me a text. The sight of her name at the top of my contacts brought a smile to my face. As did the cat meme she’d sent.
The memory of her in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, stirred. So did the way she’d woken me up this morning before her classes with a hot mouth and eager pussy. I couldn’t wait until I got my hands on her again. It was time for some advanced lessons. The image of her wearing a cat tail anal plug, kitten ears, and a collar danced through my head like a demented Christmas song.
“Kevin?” A voice from my past tore through my thoughts. I stiffened, not wanting to turn around and face the specter behind me.
Fuck.
Schooling my face, and praying that the shock rippling through me didn’t show, I turned.
Sara. Fuck. I’d been hoping I’d been wrong about the voice.
“What are you doing here.” My pulse drummed in my ears, drowning out the bursts of strident noise around me. The clang of equipment, the occasional roar from one of the body builders mid-lift, and the whir of machinery died beneath the sound in my head. It was a stupid question to ask. Why else was she here? It was a motherfucking gym.
The shock of seeing Sara again faded, allowing me to take a good, long look at her.
I hadn’t seen her in four years. Not since I’d stalked out of her apartment with fury firing my steps.
Her hair was darker, closer to her natural nut-brown color than the bottle-blonde she’d loved in college. There were a few new lines creasing her mouth. Tiredness circled her wide eyes, but they sparkled with a latent joy that even exhaustion couldn’t iron out.
It clicked immediately why she was at a gym. Her body gave away her secrets. Sara had always been athletic, and while she was still fit, her arms and legs lean, the thickness in her stomach, hips, and ass had nothing to do with letting herself go.
Post-partum. The sight of Sara’s after-baby body, soft and round and obviously having recently given birth, gut punched me.
My lungs seized, and I couldn’t breathe. Lights flashed across my vision, and my ears burst with static. The panic attack sprung from nowhere. Gripping the bar of the pull-down machine, I sank into the bench before I fell over.
“I’m sorry,” Sara whispered. “I wasn’t sure if I should come over. I... dammit Kevin. I’m sorry.”
Fuck. I couldn’t handle this right now. She hovered on the periphery. If she didn’t look so fucking different I would have chalked her up to a hallucination. But she was real, and talking to me as if she had a right to barge back into my life. Even accidentally. I didn’t think I could handle this. Sara belonged in my past. A terrible memory. Not standing right in front of me. Not someone’s baby momma. Her sudden presence shook the peace I’d felt with Jo. Exposing the scar I’d hidden from the world. Only it wasn’t a scar, but a huge infected wound oozing pus and pain into my present.
“Give me a minute,” I ground out. My brain buzzed like a saw, loud and shrill as I sorted through the thoughts zipping around my skull.
Maybe it had been naive of me, but I never expected Sara to carry a pregnancy to term. Not after she’d aborted our child.
I was pro-choice. It was her body. We’d both been young. Logically I understood it all. But logic and progressive thoughts paled in the face of personal choices. The baby had been half mine. Not all hers. I should have had a say. Not been an afterthought once the deed had been done.
Was that all she needed? Four fucking years and then she’d have been willing to carry our baby to term? Or had she not loved me, not loved our child, enough to let them live.
“Should I say congratulations,” I asked, my voice coiled with bitterness.
Sara sighed. With how she fidgeted, rolling to the tips of her tennis shoes and then back to her heels, I anticipated she’d bolt. Her hands fisted at her sides. Then she relaxed and took a seat on the ground in front of me. Wrapping her hands around her knees, she drew the up and propped her chin onto them. She had a direct view into my face. I couldn’t avoid her stare. Her eyes were ocean waves, blue and overflowing with turbulent emotion.
“I never expected to be a mother.” Her confession silenced the roar in my head. The silence was even worse. I could feel the panic in my heart beat. “I’ve only been married a year, and we wanted more time together. Things happened, though.”
“Yeah,” I said gruffly. Things happened. That was how she’d wound up pregnant by me. She’d been on the pill. We’d stopped using condoms. But “things happened”. “I’ve heard you say that before.”
Sara flinched, and I felt like a shit heel for causing it. Fuck. I was all messed up. I scrubbed a hand through my hair. “I know I’m supposed to be happy for you. And I think in a way I am. But this whole situation is fucked.”
“That’s hard for me to hear. I know you’re right. Fuck, I do. But you didn’t talk to me. You didn’t care what I wanted. If you’d loved me like you said, you’d have talked to me about it.” Everything I’d built up over the years shook loose. I word vomited all over her.
“I did love you. I was afraid you’d change my mind.” Her gaze landed somewhere south of my feet. Wetness dewed the corners of her eyes before she blinked it away. “You’re not over this. I thought you would be. Moved on. Married with kids of your own.”
I barked a harsh laugh. “No. I’m not over it at fucking all, Sara. You took my heart and shredded it. I haven’t been able to let anyone in since.”
Sara looked up. Her eyes searched mine, a deep probing look. The pity glowing at the depths angered me. “You need to get over it, Kevin. I’m sorry, but you need to forgive me. Not for me, but for yourself. Is there anyone in your life that’s close to you, that you trust?”
I thought about Jo. My beautiful, loving Tinkerbelle. My purple haired pixie. I’d known peace with her. But did I trust her? Did we have a future together? She’d come to my bed because she wanted a happily ever after with another guy. Regi wasn’t worthy of her. Fuck, neither was I. I’d been fooling myself. Eventually she’d want to get married. Have babies. I couldn’t be that man. I wasn’t that man.
The answer was hard for me to swallow. I shied away from Sara’s stare. “That’s none of your business.”
But she’d seen the answer clear as day.
I was broken.
Jo deserved better. No matter how much I wanted to keep her, I had to let her go. Before I damaged her like Sara damaged me. Now, before it was too late.
It was the only way.
Nineteen
Jo
“You won’t believe the sexiness that just walked in and asked to sit in your section. Oh my God, he is so hot,” Becca said as she joined me where I stood rolling silverware. The afternoon was slow, and I’d agreed to help prepare for the dinner shift. Which meant standing in the hostess nook mindlessly wrapping flatware in napkins, filling salt and pepper shakers, and making sure the sugar boxes were full.
I grinned. I knew exactly who just walked in. No matter where we went, women gawked at him. I’d been lamenting that I wouldn’t be able to see my sexy man for a few days. Wasn’t it just like him to surprise me again?
Happiness flooded me, and my heart grew wings, soaring in anticipation and delight. It was too soon for me to tell him, but I was pretty damn sure I was in love with him. Maybe had been since the first time I saw him. Whatever I’d seen in him that morning had taken root, and now that we were nurturing it, it would grow and blossom.
Smoothing a hand over my hair, I grabbed my notepad and turned with a bounce.
I’d been right. Kevin was here. Only he wasn’t alone.
My steps stuttered, and I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t daydreaming. Though dreaming would entail a nice surprise.
This…this was a nightmare.
Kevin sat at my table, a big dark-green vinyl booth situated along the huge wall-length windows facing street side. Tucked into his side was a leggy, whip-thin blonde that I faintly recognized from school. She was like Angela. Gorgeous and oozing so much sex appeal you needed a cold shower after. You couldn’t help but notice her. As a girl, you wanted to be her. Guys wanted to be in her. Though her hair was darker, honey wheat instead of platinum, she was every bit model-worthy as my roommate.
My heart seized in my chest. I will not cry. I will not fucking cry.
Tears pricked the back of my eyelids, and it took every ounce of self-respect not to break down and bawl in the middle of the restaurant.
Had I misinterpreted what he meant about me being his? Unless he meant I was going to be exclusive and he wasn’t. That wouldn’t fly with me. Not. At. All.
I tried telling myself he wasn’t on a date. That there was some huge misunderstanding at play. Maybe they were here as just friends.
That hope lasted as long as it took for the girl to snuggle into his side. They were sharing one half of the booth, and by the way she was touching him and he was smiling down at her, they weren’t just friends hanging out. Either they had just fucked, or were making a pit-stop to fill up before heading to her place.
Was she his true type? I glanced down at the uniform I’d stuffed myself into. I’d been right that I’d gained about ten pounds, and it made the olive-green T-shirt hug my chest tighter than I liked. I felt fat and frumpy, especially when faced with size 00 perfection. At least the black pants fit nicely, even if they weren’t flattering. They were tight at the waist, and loose everywhere else, making my thighs look thicker than they were. I didn’t want to discuss the shoes.
Turning my back on the couple, I took a few power breaths. Rage and anger swirled through me, my temper a Molotov cocktail about ready to explode. Except the confusion and sorrow filling me tempered it, leaving me hollowed out.
Why was he doing this? It was on purpose. I’d left his bed this morning with plans to snuggle back into his arms tonight. We’d made plans for him to pick me up after work. He knew I’d be here now. Had this always been his plan? Why twist me up with hope for a future when he had me? I wanted to fuck him, he hadn’t needed to sell me a load of manure and call it gold.
Was this some revenge tactic on all girls? Get them to fall so under his spell, then toss them away?
Had it only been a few days ago that he’d surprised me, joking about mouths and what he wanted to feed me? It hadn’t even been twelve fucking hours since he’d had his hands in my hair, and his mouth all over me.
He’d said I was his.
The knot in my throat choked me. I couldn’t think. But I had work to do. This was my job. I needed to suck it up and pretend my heart wasn’t shattering.
I longed to flag Becca over for me, have her take the table. But he wanted to do this, break it off like this. Flaunting his new conquest in my face. Who was I to deny him the taste of drama he craved?
I wasn’t going to cower. Fuck. Him.
Straightening my shoulders and steeling my spine, I trudged towards my table with a fake smile pinned on my face.
“Hello, my name is Jo and I’ll be your server today. Would you like to start off with something to drink?” I could have broken glass with how shrill my voice was, but I got the words out without crying or breaking down. I needed an Oscar for being able to speak while my heart was being torn into little pieces.
I avoided looking at Kevin. My focus was completely on the blonde. Her hands were all over him. Touching his arm, tracing the tail of the dragon tattoo limning his forearm, walking her fingers over all his rock-hard muscles.
I wanted to break every one of her fingers. I’d never resorted to violence in my life. If there’d been a steak knife in the vicinity I would have brandished it. My fingers shook around my small pad.
He’s not yours anymore.
She can do what she wants.
Fucking asshole.
She looked up at me, and then down, and back up, giving me a little smirk. The one that said “I’m prettier than you”.
She flicked her corn-silk blond hair over her shoulder. She wore one of those cold-shoulder tops that exposed a lot of skin. It was crazy to wear in winter. How was she not cold? Then again, she had Kevin to keep her warm. “I’ll have a water with lime.”
“And for you, Sir?” The stress I added to my favorite title for him caught his attention. Like I’d been ignoring him, he’
d been pretending I wasn’t standing at the table by studying the menu. A stray lock of hair tumbled over his forehead. I wanted to smooth it back, tease him about how his hair was nearly as long as mine was.
I did none of that. I gripped my pen tighter, holding onto my brittle smile as if the world wound end if it slipped.
“I’ll have a blonde ale.”
I clicked the pen, jotting some chicken scratch on the paper. I knew exactly what he liked to drink. He was lucky this job worked around my schedule or I’d be dumping it all over his selfish head. “Bottled or on tap?”
“On tap.”
“Great,” I chirped. “I’ll be back with your drinks in a few minutes.”
I needed to escape. While I wanted to run, I somehow managed to walk to the bar before sagging against the wooden spine. How was I going to get through this?
The anger vanished. Self-doubt clung to my skin. And blame. So much blame.
What had I done?
The tears finally fell, streaking down my cheeks. Silent condemnation over the state of my heart. I’d given it up to an unworthy man. This was my reward.
Kevin had ruined me.
“Jo?” Becca’s voice was hesitant, prodding me from my misery. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. I was so far from okay. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t want to do this. He could have his high school drama and betrayal without me as a participant. “Can you take that table? I need to get some air.”
Becca didn’t ask any more questions. Her hand stroked down my forearm in a soothing gesture, and then she was bustling to the table.
Whipping off my apron, I dashed through the kitchen, startling the dishwasher and two line cooks, and out the back door. It was so cold, but I didn’t care. The icy weather was warmer than the arctic wasteland in my chest. I wrapped my arms around my waist, and tilted my face to the snow-riddled sky. The tears leaking from the corners of my eyes froze on my cheeks. Icicles formed on my lashes.