“Amalie, wake up, darlin’.”
I can feel his warm breath against my skin while he kisses a trail up and down the back of my neck. I groan with anticipation. Sex with Jarrod is beyond phenomenal, and I find myself craving it.
“What time is it?” I whisper.
“Late. I started a bath for us. Come, and we can talk a bit.”
A bath and talking? I don’t want to talk in the bath. I want Jarrod to put slippery soap on me and touch me everywhere.
“I’ll do more than talk, baby, but first, we talk.”
It’s as if the man can read my mind. I roll off the bed and groggily shuffle into the bathroom, stripping all my clothes off on the way, not caring where they land. Jarrod sinks down into the bubbly water first, and I follow him, my back to his front. I feel his chest rise and fall, and his breath lets out a sigh. I don’t think this bodes well for me.
“I leave in two days for California, and I’ll be gone for most of the month, traveling.” He pauses.
“Okay…” I don’t know what this means. Does he want to screw other people on the road? I don’t know.
“I don’t like you going back to Boston with Eric still making threats.”
I don’t want to go back there either, but I have a job.
“I have to work, Jarrod. I have already taken too much time off.”
He growls in frustration behind me.
“Let me put it another way. You won’t be going back to Boston alone. You will move here, and I’ll take care of you. If you want to work, then fine, get a job here, but you won’t be going back there.”
I am stunned, shocked, and slightly turned on by his assertiveness. I know he’s just worried about Eric as he should be because Eric is crazy, and Jo cannot resist him. She would let him into our place without question. I could fight Jarrod on this. I could say that it is all moving too fast, but I am scared enough of Eric not to do that.
“Is this your way of asking me to move in with you?” I want to laugh at him.
He’s acting kind of crazy, but I get it. Truthfully, I love his place, and I love being with him. I don’t want to ever leave. However, the quickened pace of this is extremely nerve-racking.
“I’m not asking, darlin’.”
I turn around to face him and notice that his jaw is grinding. He thinks I’m going to put up one hell of a battle about this. Normally, it wouldn’t even be an option. I would tell him no. However, when it comes to Jarrod, my no’s are extremely rare and few. It’s not that I can’t say no to him. It’s that I find myself not wanting to. I want to please him, and I want him to be pleased with me.
“How about I take a temporary leave of absence until the whole Eric thing dies down a bit?” I watch as his blue eyes turn to stone.
Then, he smirks at me. “Sure, leave of absence.” He chuckles.
I’m no fool though. He doesn’t think I’ll ever go back, and he’s probably right, but I need to have that security, that fall back, just in case this relationship goes completely to shit.
“We’ll fly to Boston in the morning. We’ll pack up as much as we can and ship it. I already hired movers, so they’ll pack the rest and bring it all to the apartment.”
I stare at him, open-mouthed. He had everything already in place for the move.
“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he coos.
I huff at his audacity. Jarrod wraps his arm around my chest and pulls me back to his hard body while the thumb on his other hand begins to rub circles on my hip. He starts kissing my neck. I’m done for. I immediately melt, not that I was really all that angry to begin with.
Jarrod slips his fingers through the folds of my core that are wet and slippery, submerged in water, feeling every inch of me. Then, he fills me with his thick long fingers while his thumb rubs torturous circles around my clit. All the while, he’s kissing my neck right below my earlobe. I silently wonder if he is trying to drive me insane. Insanity by sexual teasing—I think it could be a real thing.
“You gonna move in with me, baby?” Jarrod asks.
I’m moaning and rocking my hips with the rhythm of his delicious fingers, feeling the water sloshing all around me.
“Mmm,” is all I can say. No words are able to form at the moment. I’m hanging on by a thread.
“Amalie, are you moving in with me?” His voice is firmer, sharper, and his fingers have stopped their play on my body.
“Yes,” I whisper because the bastard has me completely at his mercy.
“Good,” he hoarsely whispers back in my ear.
He picks me up and carries me to the bed, sopping wet. Before my head even hits the mattress, Jarrod is inside me, filling me, making me cry out his name. I was already so close to climaxing that it takes only seconds for me to explode around him.
“Fuck, baby. My pussy knows how I like it, doesn’t it?” he groans.
I shiver at his possessive words. I freaking love it, and yes, yes, his pussy knows exactly what he likes, and it also knows that it likes him tons and tons. Jarrod starts to thrust erratically with no set rhythm until he stills and comes hard, cursing in my neck.
“Baby, I never want you to leave this bed. I’m going to handcuff you to it,” he whispers.
We both laugh. I laugh because I would probably let him do that to me without protest. I’m officially Jarrod’s girl, living in his house, and my body is a slave to him.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I begin to stroke the muscles of his back.
“For what?” His eyebrows are pinched together, and his face is showing complete confusion.
“For caring enough about me to demand that I come here to be safe, for introducing me to your fabulous family, and for being so wonderful,” I admit, my voice cracking with the last word. Tears begin to stream down my pale cheeks.
“Baby, none of those things you have to thank me for, but I appreciate that you recognize them all. I have never felt this way about another woman in my entire life. If something happened to you while I was gone, it would kill me. I will fiercely protect you because I’m falling in love with you.”
My body starts shaking with sobs at his admission. I think I fell in love with him the second he walked into the VIP section of the club. He’s everything I ever dreamed of in a man and everything I thought I would never have. I can’t wait until the day when we can truly admit that we are not only falling, but we are actually in love with one another. I know that it won’t be tomorrow, but someday, hopefully when we know each other better, we will confess our love for one another.
We spend the rest of the evening in each other’s arms, and I am dreading going back to Boston to tell Jo that I’m temporarily moving out and packing my stuff. Then, there is the matter of my job. I know they’ll fire me for even suggesting the leave of absence, and though I can survive on my modeling, I don’t want to have to resort to that. Modeling is fun, but it isn’t my career. I eventually fall asleep, thinking about Jarrod’s admission of beginning to fall in love and how finding a man like him is more than I ever dreamed of.
I’m naked and asleep, facedown, on Jarrod’s soft-as-shit bed when I feel his lips on my back, trailing up and down my spine. I moan as my body starts to automatically respond.
“Darlin’?” His chest rumbles against my back.
I push my ass into his stomach with a moan.
“My pussy want something?” he asks with a chuckle before he slips inside me from behind.
I only grunt, my mind still hazy from sleep. He’s taking me slow with one arm wrapped around my breasts and the other gently stroking my clit. I feel his lips at my earlobe, pulling it into his mouth and gently sucking.
“Love your pussy, baby,” he growls in my ear.
His breath is hot on me. Between his slow-stroking cock and his fingers and his breath, I can’t control myself anymore. I come hard, biting my lips with my release.
“My pussy like my cock?” he asks before he rears back on his knees.
He grabs my hips and positions me for
a hard fucking. I love it when he’s powerful like this.
“Answer me,” he asks, his voice stern. He slaps my ass.
“Yes, it fucking loves it,” I cry out.
He begins to ruthlessly and roughly slam into my body, claiming me, making me his. It doesn’t matter what the man does. I am a slave to him, and he knows it.
Jarrod and I silently get dressed and pack for our quick trip back to Boston. I’m too nervous to chat. I don’t know what’s awaiting my return. I’ve texted Jo several times, but she hasn’t returned any of them. I’m worried that she’s angry with me for leaving her, for dating Jarrod, for getting so much attention. She has always been someone who requires attention, and normally, I’m fine with being in the background while she flitters around, being the center of the world. With Jarrod by my side, that isn’t possible. He’s famous, and therefore, by association, I’m going to get a fair amount of attention.
The flight is short, and by the time the cab pulls up to my front door, I’m chewing on my nails, and I’m a complete wreck. Jarrod pulls me into his side and runs his hand through my hair. It instantly relaxes me. The man calms me with just a touch. I’m in so much trouble with him. He holds my heart in the palm of his hand.
“He’s never going to touch you, not ever again,” Jarrod whispers, almost as if he’s reassuring himself of this fact.
We climb the stairs until we reach the door. I slowly unlock and open the door. What I see assaults my eyes. The whole apartment is trashed. Jarrod has pulled out his phone, and I rush to my bedroom to find all my promotional photos for the Viva Las Vegas convention shredded. They can be replaced, and although it’s going to cost me a mini fortune to put a rush order on reprinting them, things could be worse. I turn and slowly walk to Jo’s room. Her door is closed. I’m afraid that she’s been hurt. Maybe this is the reason she hasn’t been returning my calls. If she’s hurt or worse, I will never be able to live with myself.
I grasp the handle of her door. I slowly turn and push it open, keeping my eyes closed the entire time. I take a deep breath and open my eyes. I see nothing. Her room is perfect. It hasn’t been touched, and she isn’t there. I feel Jarrod behind me, slipping his hands around my waist.
“The police are on their way,” he whispers.
I don’t turn to look at him before I speak, “Why is her room untouched?” I want to know. I need to know. Why in the hell is the whole place trashed and her room is absolute perfection?
“I can’t answer that, but the good or bad news—however it goes—is that she’s not hurt in here,” he says.
I agree. I don’t know what has happened between us or why, but I don’t want her to be hurt even if we aren’t friends after whatever this is plays out. I want her to be happy. She’s my best friend, and I will always want her to be happy.
Jarrod and I spend what seems like hours talking to police officers. They comb the place for prints, but I already know that what has happened here. It has everything to do with Eric. I’m just afraid that Jo is involved now. I don’t want him to hurt her, and he will. He obviously isn’t sane, and at this exact moment in time, I am questioning Jo’s sanity as well.
“Amalie,” Jarrod whispers as the last officer leaves.
There isn’t much they can do. I totally understand it. Nothing was stolen, just trashed. I want to scream and rant and rave, but I don’t. I can’t go flying off the handle with Jarrod getting ready to leave for a month. It would worry him. I’d do just about anything for Jarrod not to be worried. He slips his hand up my back, and curls his fingers around the back of my neck.
“All right, babe. Let’s pack what we can, and I’ll get a cleaning crew in here to clean up the rest.”
Jarrod and I pack up my clothes and a few items that aren’t ripped up, smashed, or just plain destroyed. It’s pretty pathetic. I didn’t own a whole lot as it was, so now, I own even less. We’re just about to call it a night when the front door opens, and in walks Jo. She’s thinner than she was the last time I saw her. Her skin is ashen and pale, and her hair looks dry. She isn’t my cute little fairy girl friend anymore. I don’t even know who she is at the moment.
“Jo,” I say, my eyes assessing her.
She doesn’t even meet my gaze.
“See you found your shit. You leaving with him now then?” Jo spits.
I can practically feel how much she hates Jarrod.
“You and Eric have really given me no choice, Jo. Why would you do this to all my stuff? I thought we were best friends?” I’m seconds from crying.
I feel Jarrod’s hand rest on the small of my back. He’s giving me silent support. I love him just a little more for that.
“You fucking bitch!” she screams. “Everybody wants you. Eric was just the first to have the balls to approach you. You’re tall, gorgeous, and built like no fucking human should be built, and you’re so fucking sweet and smart, too. It pisses me off. You piss me off. You had Eric in the palm of your hand, and you just shoved him to the side and moved on after years of being together. He loves you so freaking much, and you just moved without telling him anything. Then, he comes back and confesses his love to you, and you push him aside again and again.
“I’m not even going to mention every fucking man who turns his head when you walk by or the photography bullshit you do. I hate being your friend. I hate that Eric would lick the ground you walk on, and so would Jarrod by the looks of it.” Jo’s chest is heaving up and down with quick breaths.
I am stunned, shocked. I knew she always liked Eric, but I didn’t know she felt this way about me.
“Jo, I haven’t wanted Eric for years. I thought that I loved him once, yes, but he beat me, and then he raped me. I will never be with him. He isn’t a good person. He would never lick the ground I walk on. He’s manipulative and controlling. He’s dangerous. As for Jarrod, we’re falling in love with each other, and as my friend, I hoped that you would be glad that I’ve found someone who makes me happy. I would be overjoyed if you found even an ounce of what Jarrod and I have.” I feel the bite of Jarrod’s fingers in my back, and I know he’s trying to give me strength. I need it.
“I can’t be your friend anymore. It hurts too fucking bad. I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I don’t want to watch you fall in love and be happy. It makes me angry,” she admits.
It makes my heart actually ache. We have been friends for so long that I consider her my sister, but if she can’t be my friend, I get it.
“The movers will be here in the morning, Jo. Please don’t do any more damage to Amalie’s things before then,” Jarrod says softly.
I watch Jo’s face twist in anger and hurt.
“You’re moving?” she croaks.
She acts as if this is something hurtful I’ve done toward her, and the last fifteen minutes of her screaming at me hasn’t happened.
“I am. Jarrod has asked me to live with him, and I have accepted.” I decide right then and there that there will be no leave of absence. I’m living with Jarrod. Boston holds nothing for me, not anymore. I will miss some of my work colleagues and Giorgio, but I won’t allow myself to miss Jo, not now. I won’t ruin a possible future with Jarrod for her.
“So, just like that, you’re moving in with the rich, handsome baseball player?” she spits. Her whole body is laced with venom.
“Jo, I’ve met his family, and we are together on this. As of this exact moment, this conversation is over, and our friendship is over. I can’t have someone in my life who is a danger to my safety and well-being, and you are exactly that. The moment you brought Eric back into my life, you signed away any friendship we could have had in the future. I’m done.” I wrap my hand around Jarrod’s and walk out.
Jo will probably trash the rest of my meager belongings, but I don’t care. I said what I needed to say, and she heard me. I can’t be around her anymore. She’s lethal.
The first week Jarrod leaves, I mope around the apartment, not leaving and just waiting for him to call like so
me dumb fangirl.
By the beginning of week two, I snap out of my funk, and I call Victoria and Libby to see if they want to get together for coffee. I ask them to invite Maggie, and we all decide to make a day out of it and go to the spa. What starts out as a simple girls’ spa day turns into inviting Paul and David as well, and the six of us spend all day long drinking mimosas and getting buffed, polished, waxed, and massaged.
“You have to tell me how big that man is. I mean, I saw a glimpse of what could be, but he wasn’t giving me much at the shoot,” Paul says, leaning in close, speaking far too loudly because he’s buzzed on champagne.
“I’ve been dying to know, too, but the bitch won’t spill!” Libby shouts from across the room.
A woman in her sixties, all prim and proper, gasps at her vulgar language.
“Oh, please, honey. You should hear her when she’s on a roll. This is PG-thirteen language,” Victoria slurs.
The lady just disapprovingly scowls at us.
Whatever.
“You two are seriously the hottest couple I have ever seen. Could you make a sex tape? I mean, some of us want to see all of that in action. I bet you’re both dynamite between the sheets,” David purrs.
It shocks me because he’s usually the quiet one between him and Paul.
“You’d better not. That’ll only depress the crap out of me,” Maggie says softly from behind me.
The conversations go off on different tangents about positions and girth versus length, but something about Maggie is nagging at me, and for once, I don’t stop myself.
“Is everything between you and Sammy all right, Maggie?” I ask quietly so that nobody else can hear us.
I watch her intently as she chews her lip, and then tears fill her eyes, threatening to spill, but she recovers quickly and straightens her back.
“Sure, we’re good. Nothing’s wrong. I just miss him when he’s out of town,” she says.
I watch as a mask of false confidence comes over her. In that moment, I know that she is not all right. Something is very wrong, and I hope and pray that it isn’t abuse. I have only met Sammy once, and he seemed nice enough, but I know that what happens behind closed doors can be so different from perceived reality. I need to keep a closer eye on Maggie and find out how to get her to trust me, so I can make sure she isn’t living the life I once lived with Eric.
Pitching for Amalie Page 17