“I haven’t had any other girls since you,” I whispered. “And I don’t want anyone else,” I breathed against her mouth. “I just want you because it’s the only time I know I’m exactly where I want to be, Juliet.”
She tore her face away, tears running down her cheeks. “No.”
“You feel it, too,” I pressed, making her listen. “I don’t want you on my arm.” I jerked her into me. “And I don’t want you to love me. Just come when I call, and get in my bed when I say.”
Her lips trembled, and her breath shook as she tried to pry her body away from mine.
“And it’ll be only you,” I promised, my throat tight. “You’re the only one I want.”
I covered her mouth with mine, drowning out her whimpers and begging her with my body. My hands gripped her ass, pushing her into the edge of the desk, and I kissed her fast and hard. The salt of her sweat hit my tongue.
I pulled back, seeing her scared eyes looking up at me, but I didn’t hesitate. Reaching behind her, I swiped my arm over the desktop, sending all of Penley’s shit flying to the floor, and then I hoisted her up, claiming her mouth again.
“Say it,” I demanded. I needed to hear the words.
But she simply pulled back and lifted my shirt over my head, throwing it to the floor.
I breathed hard, seeing the heat in her eyes, and tore open the buttons on my shorts as she undid the buttons of her shirt.
My cock sprang free, the pressure of needing her fucking body making me ache. I was swelled and hard, and she was doing this to me.
I bit her bottom lip, ready to fucking eat her as I hooked her under her knees and yanked her down to the end of the desk. Grabbing hold of her thong under her skirt, I ripped it clean from her wet, hot skin.
“Whenever I call. Whenever I fucking say,” I ordered.
And I drove inside her.
“Ah,” she whimpered, holding my neck.
“Goddamn it,” I groaned. “So fucking good.”
Leaning over her and grasping the back of her neck, I pumped my hips, sinking into her up to the hilt.
Her pussy tightened around me, holding me strong as I slid back and forth, faster and faster.
The small, hot bursts of her breath quaked against my neck, and I threaded my fingers through her hair, holding her there.
Right there against me—I closed my eyes—where I could feel every shake, moan, and beat of her heart.
And when her nails dug into my arms and she started crying out, I squeezed her body tight, barely noticing that she’d sunk her teeth into the bottom of my neck.
“Harder,” I begged, still holding her by her hair and pressing her head into my skin.
She bit harder, her teeth trying to close around my skin, and I absorbed every moan and whimper coming out of her sweet mouth as she tried to keep herself quiet.
“Say it,” I demanded. “I need to hear it.”
She let her head fall back as she looked up at me and whispered, “Damn, baby, that feels good. I love you inside me.”
I narrowed my eyes, hardening my tone. “Say it,” I bit out.
“Mmm … ,” she moaned, closing her eyes. “I’ll be your good little slut. I promise.”
What the fuck?
What was she doing? Why was she making it dirty?
I pulled out of her, spun her around, and lifted her skirt.
“You know what I want to hear, Juliet,” I insisted, sliding back into her again. “Fucking say it!”
She pushed up on her hands, taking what I gave her as I gripped her hip with one hand and wrapped the other around the front of her neck, breathing into her skin. “Yeah, fuck me harder,” she begged. “Is that it, baby? Am I good? Am I tight enough for you?”
My eyes burned, and I closed them, feeling my stomach roll. “Don’t,” I whispered into her neck. “Don’t talk like that. It’s not you,” I said. “You know what I want hear. Three words. Please,” I pleaded.
My chest shook, she felt so good, but this wasn’t what I wanted. Not like this.
I wanted my Juliet.
Her head fell back softly against my shoulder, and I felt her breath on my skin. “You want to hear it?” she whispered.
A drop of sweat glided down my back, and I kissed her neck, feeling relief. “Yes.”
She turned her head, her breath falling over my face, and she murmured, “I love you.”
I snapped my eyes open.
“No,” I said low, thrusting harder.
“I love you, Jax,” she said sadly. “I love you so much.”
“Stop it.”
“I love you.” She dropped her head forward, crying softly. “I love you.”
I slowed my hips, coming to a stop as the muscles in my back tensed. I squeezed my eyes shut, a tear hanging at the corner.
“Baby, don’t do this,” I mourned.
“I love you,” she repeated, shaking her head and crying. “Only. Ever. You.”
I dropped my head and slowly stepped back, too ashamed to look at her. Why would she love me? I would never hold her above myself. I would never put her first. She deserved a man, not a scared kid in disguise.
I stared at the floor, anguish boiling under the surface of my skin as I blindly fastened my shorts and backed far away from her.
She straightened her back and turned around, her arms hanging limp at her side, but her shoulders squared and her stance strong. She was looking at me, but my eyes shifted, unable to reach her face.
Her pleated white skirt fell to her knees, and her white flats were planted on the floor, everything as still as a statue. Her sleeveless blue blouse hung off her arms in a mess, but her white bra sat against beautiful tanned skin that glistened with sweat.
That was my girl. Mine. And she was waiting for me to do something or say something, to be a man, and I couldn’t fucking find the balls to take her back.
I heard her swallow, the room was so silent, and I just stood there as she quietly buttoned up her blouse, tucked it in, and walked out of the room.
I ran my hand through my hair and for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to get drunk. I’d never sought escape like that.
I headed for the door, bending over to swipe up my T-shirt and throw it on as I made my way out of the building.
Home. I’d go home, get obliterated, and check out, because I had no fucking clue what I was going to do without her or what my next move was.
Climbing into the car, I twisted my fist around the steering wheel and slammed the door, thankful that the parking lot was still empty. Very few people ever saw me mad, and I liked it that way. It’s hard to anticipate what you don’t understand, and I liked to keep myself in check. Most of the time.
I turned the ignition and blasted the stereo, the car vibrating under me. I shifted into reverse and checked the rearview mirror.
And stopped.
I narrowed my eyes, seeing her marks on my neck—her bite marks.
I reached up, running my fingers over the deep abrasions, feeling the dips where her teeth and mouth had been. She hadn’t broken the skin, but it was bruised red and purple.
And I wanted to smile.
She’d bitten me.
My gutless, helpless wallflower was wild, after all.
Someday when she’d moved on, and she’d found another guy, I would be able to look at her and remember that she was almost mine.
I would be able to remember that while he slept with her every night, I had had her soft body—sweating and needy—in my arms, looking at me as if I were her angel.
I would remember that she loved me once.
I drove to the Black Debs shop and walked in the door, pulling off my shirt immediately. Sitting down in Aura’s empty chair, I waited for her to come over from her desk with her hands on her hips as Jay Gordon’s “Slept So Long” played in the background.
“Do you know what an appointment is?” she snarled. “Jared makes appointments.”
I leaned forward, my elbows on
my knees as I cocked my head, indicating the bite mark. “Tattoo it,” I said.
She pushed my head to the left and inspected the mark up close. Standing up, she looked at me as if I were crazy.
“You sure?” she asked, her lip arching up.
I nodded. “I want to remember.”
CHAPTER 27
JULIET
I jerked awake, yelping as my body vaulted up and down.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Madoc jumped on the bottom of the bed, sending me flopping. “I hope you’re naked!”
I scurried for the covers, bringing them up to my chin. “Madoc!” I screamed, covering my face with the sheet. I was in my pajama shorts and tank top, but still!
“Come on, Tiger,” Madoc taunted, still pouncing like a seven-year-old. “Time to stop snoring. Although it was supersexy.”
He was joking. I didn’t snore. Oh, God. Did I snore?
“Madoc, stop it!” I screamed, freaked-out by the half-naked man—someone else’s half-naked man—jumping on my bed.
He wore some Polo lounge pants—I could tell, because there were little polo players all over them. And no shirt. And he shouldn’t be in my room. His room. Fallon’s old room. My room!
“Fallon!” I called for his wife.
“Madoc!” I heard her shout, probably from their room across the hall. “Leave her alone!”
“What?” He acted innocent but kept jumping. “Two hot chicks under my roof. I have a big bed, and Freud says everyone is bisexual. I say you two take a shower. I watch. Win-win.”
I popped my head off the bed, fury burning my face. “Get. Off. The bed!” I bellowed from my gut.
“Whoa!” His eyes went wide, and he laughed as he dropped his whole body to lie beside me. “Is Satan your father or did he just raise you?”
I growled and threw the sheet over my face again. “I hate to complain, what with the free room and all, but …”
“Then don’t,” he said, brushing me off, pulling the sheet down. “Seriously, though. You have to get up. We’re having a party.”
“Huh?”
“Tate’s dad flew in this morning,” he started explaining. “His assignment is on break for a couple of weeks. And my dad and Jared’s mom will be in town for the weekend. Everyone’s kicking back,” he sighed, lying back and fixing his hands underneath his head. “We’re barbecueing and having a shitload of people over. We need someone to clear away the trash.”
I jerked the sheet back over my head.
“I’m kidding.” He pulled the sheet away again, grinning. “You know I love to tease you.”
I rolled my eyes.
Playing with the hem of the blanket, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Jax will be here, then?” I asked, not looking at him.
“Jax will be at the Loop,” he shot back. “Adam will be here.”
Who …? Oh, right. Adam, his preppy friend. The one … I kind of ditched … when I got “lost” in the fun house. Yeah, class act right here.
Madoc rolled off the bed and walked toward the door, calling behind him, “Get dressed. Preferably in something Fallon can rip off with her teeth!”
“Madoc!” Fallon’s screech poured into the room, and I shook my head, burying my laugh in my pillow.
Tutoring had ended yesterday, so this was my first day without anything to do or to plan. I started back at the movie theater tomorrow, reclaiming my first and only job from high school, and as much as I enjoyed the job back then—hey, who doesn’t like free movies?—I was having a hard time getting excited. Spending the rest of the summer making minimum wage with kids who still went to high school felt like a significant step backward. But I knew it had to be done. I couldn’t live with Madoc and Fallon forever, and not only did I need a job, but I needed two.
My phone started buzzing, and I popped my head up, grabbing it off the charger on the bedside table.
“Hello?” I sat up, not recognizing the number.
“K.C.?” a woman’s voice asked. “Hi, honey. It’s Meredith Kenney. Your mom’s friend.”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Kenney,” I greeted, puzzled as to why she was calling me. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. I was just calling to make sure your mom was okay,” she explained. “She’s missed the last two Rotary meetings, and when I’ve tried to call, I haven’t gotten an answer.”
I opened my mouth but then closed it again.
That was weird. My mother was always punctual, and I was sure she’d call if she needed to miss a meeting. Which never happened.
“Uh, well,” I stammered, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Ms. Kenney, but I’m visiting with friends right now.” Chills spread down my arms as worry set in. “I’ll swing by the house, though, okay?”
“I’ve done that. No answer,” she said. “Now I’m worried.”
I shook my head, trying to figure out what could be up. I shouldn’t be worried about her. Had she called me since I came to get my journals? No, she’d abandoned me, and I shouldn’t care about her.
But she was alone. And I was different now.
“I’ll check it out and get back to you.” I nodded, throwing off the covers and standing up. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be waiting. Thank you, sweetie.” And she hung up.
Grabbing a white summer dress from the closet, I dived into the bathroom, got dressed, and brushed my hair.
Snatching up my purse and fastening the Gear to my wrist, I stumbled into the hallway, trying to put on my sandals. “Madoc?” I called. “Can I borrow your car?”
“No!”
“Thank you,” I chirped, jetting down the hallway and then the stairs, grabbing Madoc’s keys off the entryway table before slipping out the door.
I had to hand it to Jax about one thing. I was glad he’d taught me to drive a stick. It was the only thing these people drove.
The drive to my house—my mom’s house—took about twenty minutes, and even though it was hard not to speed in Madoc’s car, I took my time.
I wasn’t really worried about her. She always took care of herself.
But the truth was, I never worried about my mom. Her presence was constant, like a lamp or a car, and I hadn’t really thought about her having a life unless I was there to see it. What did she do with herself when I was away at college? What did she think about when she was alone?
Who hurt her to make her so vile?
And now, for the first time in her life, she was causing others to worry.
Pulling up outside the house, I slowly climbed out of the car and shoved the keys in my purse. The brick stairs to my front door loomed ahead of me.
I didn’t care. This wasn’t my responsibility.
But I walked anyway.
Climbing the stairs up my lawn, I took out my key and unlocked the front door, taking in the sight right away of unopened mail spilling over the entryway table and onto the floor.
I studied the heap, letting the door close behind me.
What the hell?
I shifted my eyes left and right, noticing that the rest of the downstairs seemed completely in order.
Clean house, polished floors, everything same as always. Except for the vacuum plugged in and sitting in the middle of the area rug.
Other than that and the mail, everything looked fine. She had to be out of town, and someone was collecting the mail for her.
My shoulders relaxed.
Well, since I was here … I still had clothes, some keepsakes from my father, and—if I could handle it—my vintage Nancy Drew collection that I could pack up and still be back in time for Madoc and Fallon’s party.
I set my stuff down on the round entryway table and jogged up the stairs. Swinging myself around the banister, I pushed through my bedroom door and jerked to a halt.
I sucked in a breath. “Mother?”
She lay on my bed, wearing her navy silk bathrobe, tucked in the fetal position, and I just stared as her eyes fluttered open.
Why was she in my bed?
She focused on the wall, not seeming to notice me in front of her, but then she blinked and looked up.
The sadness in her bloodshot brown eyes paralyzed me. This wasn’t my mother.
Her unkempt hair was stuffed into a messy ponytail, stray hairs falling over her face, and the usual smooth surface of her cheekbones and jaw was now showing visible signs of age and stress.
She’d been crying. A lot.
Her eyes fell, and I watched as her shaky arms pushed her up to a sitting position. She barely had the strength to move.
Her heavy eyes were tired, and I swallowed the fat lump in my throat seeing the misery on her face.
My eyes stung.
“Mother?” I whispered.
And just then her face cracked. She broke into tears and buried her face in her hands, and I watched her, wondering what the hell was going on and if this was real. My heart felt as if it were being torn in two.
Tears blurred my eyes as I scowled at her. This wasn’t real. It was an act.
She was hunched over, sobbing into her hands, and I shook my head, unable to believe her. I had no idea how to take this.
Then I saw my bedside table. There was a picture of my father with me.
Me. Juliet. Not K.C.
I was ten years old, and he had snuck me to a carnival without my mother knowing during one of his stints out of the hospital. He’d kept the picture in his hospital room, but I never knew what happened to it after he’d died.
She’d kept it.
And then I saw another picture. Cracked and dull, the photo was clearly old. Picking it up, I looked into the face of a little girl, standing with two adults. It was my mother as a child with her parents. Her father wore a suit as he stood above her mother, who sat on a chair, stiff with her hands resting in her lap. My mother—about thirteen or so—stood to the side, untouched. No one was smiling.
I looked back down at her, seeing her drop her hands to her lap and keep her head down as she fisted her robe and cried.
I blinked, letting my silent tears spill over. I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t love my mother. I didn’t even know her.
But as I looked down at her and saw her broken life and the weight of her mistakes crumbling her composure, I felt the despair she must be feeling. What a horror it must be to realize you’ve gone too far to go back. And what pain it must be to have a life full of regret and know there are not nearly enough years to undo the damage.
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