Discovering Us (True Love Trilogy)

by Harper Bentley

  The regular programming had been preempted by the game. How ironic was that? So I’d been sitting there watching Jag pitch thinking that maybe the commercial wasn’t that bad, that Rebecca had just been overly preparing me because I’d told her about Alessandra and she knew the chick just royally chapped my ass. But when I actually saw it, I knew Rebecca had seriously been concerned for me. And she should’ve been. Good lord, even having self medicated with several glasses of White Zinfandel that Mrs. Jensen had gotten from the Napa Valley tour she and Jag’s dad had gone on when they’d moved him and that she’d sent back with us the Christmas before, I still hadn’t been prepared.

  After seeing the ad, I’d sat there stunned after pausing the DVR, then I’d backed the son of a bitch up and recorded the damned thing so I could watch it again and again, torturing myself to shreds, I supposed.

  I rewound and watched again as it showed Jag walking along the beach barefooted, wearing the outfit he’d worn home the night of the filming, as the nine models passed by him with their perfect bikini-clad bodies looking at him seductively as he ignored them. Then he looked wistfully out at the waves while flashbacks showed of him and Alessandra rolling around in a bed together. And that was the moment I thought that I was going to throw up. But being the masochist that I was, I kept the stupid thing rolling. Next it showed him stopping as he looked out at the ocean as if he’d seen something. The next scene showed Alessandra appearing out of the waves like she was some kind of sea goddess and walking toward him with a sexy smile on her face and wearing a bikini that barely covered her fucking tits or ass at all. After her slow motion approach that showed plenty of slomo boob jiggling, she ended up running to Jag where he swept her up in his arms, twirling her around as they looked longingly into each other’s eyes. The camera then started panning back showing him setting her down, their bodies still melded together, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands going to her face as he leaned down as if to kiss her. And even though he’d said they hadn’t, it looked so real and you really couldn’t tell if they’d kissed because the back of his head was to the camera and by then it’d panned farther away while some guy said something and some words flashed on the screen, all of which I paid no attention to.

  “Oh, God,” I whispered then ran to the bathroom and emptied my stomach of all the wine I’d drunk.

  Aside from the obvious, one of the worst moments of all was when programming went back to the game and the announcers went on and on about the commercial and what a lucky man Jag was to have gotten to work with Alessandra, that she was a gorgeous woman, and that they hoped he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend because they’d be green with envy right about now.

  While I was in the bathroom washing out my mouth, my phone rang. I walked into the living room and picked it up, knowing it was Rebecca.

  “Oh, God, Bec. What the fuck was that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, babe. I wish I could tell you, though.”

  Okay, I had to be rational. Jag was young. He was new to all of this, so he’d probably just followed along with what the director had told him, not realizing how graphic it’d been, or if he had, he probably felt as if he couldn’t really say anything. I mean, I guess it really wasn’t that graphic but for the fact that Alessandra barely had any clothes on, but to me, his girlfriend of five years, it had been particularly licentious. But I had to give him the benefit of the doubt, I supposed.

  “Bec, I’ve gotta be rational here,” I told her.

  “You don’t have to be anything but pissed, El,” she replied.

  “Well, I am that, but Jag’s no pro at this stuff. I mean, he was probably just taking direction and doing what they told him to do.”

  “Maybe,” she capitulated grudgingly.

  “I’ll just have to talk to him about it and see what he has to say after he watches it.”

  “Yeah, do that and then let me know what he has to say for himself,” she snapped.

  I knew she was angry for me and that’s what a best friend should do, but I also knew that Jag wouldn’t willingly have hurt me, so I’d just wait and see what he had to say.

  “Thanks for being such a good friend, Bec. I’m glad I’ve got you on my side,” I told her.

  “Same, El. I’m here for you always and I understand what you’re saying,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to beat the shit out of both of them.”

  I chuckled at that then we talked a bit more before hanging up. I didn’t turn the TV back on that night. I didn’t have one shit left to give about Jag’s game and I damn sure didn’t want to risk seeing that Godforsaken commercial again. When he called the next day, I’d get my answers. I went to bed, hoping I’d been right about him.

  Jag didn’t call the next two days. I then knew that he knew that I knew. And I knew that he didn’t want to get into it over the phone. Smart man.

  In the meantime, my mom had called, Jag’s mom had called, and my brother Robbie had called, pissed as all hell. I talked with each of them, telling them my take on it, that Jag was inexperienced and had probably been coerced into the whole thing, and that seemed to settle everyone down. Well, except for Robbie. Before we’d hung up, he told me that he didn’t give a shit who Jag was, that the next time he saw him, he was going to beat the shit out of him. Alrighty then.

  The day Jag was due home, he’d texted to let me know he’d be in around seven that night. I texted back that I had to work until ten so I’d see him when I got home and that was all we’d said. Gee, no tension was building between us at all. Ugh.

  When I left for work that afternoon, I noticed Alessandra’s little, red car parked in the lot, and my mind immediately went into Chick Think mode as I envisioned all kinds of scenarios: Jag had called to let her know he’d be home, that I wouldn’t be home until later and they could have a tryst while I was out. Or I’d walk in the door after hours of barista’ing my ass off to find them entangled in each other’s arms, in our bed of course, and they’d explain that they were only practicing for their next commercial. Or they were running off together and would I mind so much moving out as soon as possible.

  By the time I got home, I needed a Xanax. I swear Chick Think was the damned bane of my existence.

  “Breathe. Stay focused. Be open-minded. And whatever you do, do not stab anyone,” I muttered to myself as I walked toward the condo door. Before putting the key in the lock, I pressed my ear to the door to see if I could hear any telltale sounds of bumping and grinding going on, but all I heard was the TV. And that was when Jag decided to open the door and I all but fell into his arms.

  “Whoa, baby. What’re you doing?” he asked, looking down at me with a smirk. That damned sexy smirk that made me want to kiss his face off, but I wasn’t falling for it this time. Not until I had some answers.

  “Whoops. These darn shoes, always tripping me up,” I mumbled, looking down at my cute little black biker shoes that in no way had hindered my balance.

  “Mm hm.” He narrowed his eyes at me as he pulled me inside. “I missed you,” he said as he leaned down to kiss me, but I dodged it, moving out from under his arms and into the living room, heading toward the bedroom.

  “Missed you too,” I said flippantly over my shoulder, before entering the bedroom and toeing off my shoes then proceeded to untuck my polo shirt. I was pretty proud of myself and how I was handling things. I thought surely I’d be more nervous when I saw him, but I was owning this shit. I pulled my hair tie out, taking down my ponytail then reached inside the dresser drawers to grab some underwear, a t-shirt and shorts but upon turning to make my way to the shower, I let out a squeak when I ran right into a brick wall, which would be Jag’s chest.

  “Hey,” he said, his finger going under my chin to lift my face to his. His brows were drawn down in concern as he looked at me. “El…”

  I looked away as I said, “Jag, I need to shower. I worked all day long. I smell like a giant cappuccino.”

  He let out a deep sigh then fina
lly said, “Go.” So I went. And he left the room.

  Well, what’d he expect? That I’d be thrilled that he’d practically made out with our supermodel neighbor? And the entire nation saw it, including our families and friends? That would be a negative. I mean, if the situation were reversed, he’d have thrown a tantrum.

  After washing the dregs of work off my body and mentally giving myself a productive pep talk, I was ready to face him and walked into the living room. He’d been watching a ballgame, but turned the TV off the minute he saw me. “You hungry?”

  “A little.”

  “I got In-N-Out Burger while you were in the shower,” he said, raising his eyebrows expectantly at me.

  Well, damn. He was trying to butter me up, and I had to admit he was doing a good job of it. Of all the fancy restaurants we’d eaten at in the area, I’d take In-N-Out Burger over all of them any day. Their burgers were fantastic and the root beer floats were to die for.

  “You sit down. You’ve been on your feet all day.” He guided me to the dining table, pulling out a chair for me then went into the kitchen to retrieve my food. “I got you a float too.”

  After he placed everything in front of me, I thanked him and dug in. I’d been so upset the past few days, I guess I’d forgotten to eat, which showed by the way I’d begun stuffing my face.

  He watched me the entire time, pleased with himself, I could tell, that he’d gotten me something I liked. Whatever. I was starving, the food was amazing, and I didn’t really care about anything else right then.

  When I finished, I thanked him again then we sat there in silence, well, mostly silence as my slurps of my float filled the room, until he got up and cleared my place then came back to me, lifting me out of my chair then sitting in it himself and placing me sideways on his lap. “Let’s talk.”

  “Do I have much choice?” Jeez.

  He chuckled. “No, you don’t.” He curled a piece of hair over my ear. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “For?”

  “For the, uh, commercial.”

  “You don’t sound too sorry.”

  “I am. I didn’t realize it would hurt your feelings that much. Mom called and griped me out.” He looked at me sheepishly.

  I sighed. He didn’t realize his rolling around in a bed with another woman would hurt my feelings that much? “Are you dense?”

  He pulled back with a jerk and a frown on his face. “Am I dense? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  God, he really was that dense. I sat my float down and jumped off his lap afraid I’d smack him if I sat there any longer then I started pacing. “Jag, really?”

  “Really, what?”

  I stopped and glared at him. Damn. He really didn’t get it. “Remember back to a party a couple years ago? Does the name Slade mean anything to you?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me as a scowl formed on his face.

  “Ring a bell?” I asked snottily.

  “Yeah, it does. Your point?” he snapped.

  “You drove thirteen hours because it pissed you off seeing me in pictures with him. Pictures where he and I had only hugged and were just talking. How angry do you think you would’ve been if you’d been sent video of us rolling around in bed together? Huh?” My voice had risen, but it always tended to do that when I was trying to get a point across to someone who just didn’t get it. I’d thrown in the arm flail for good measure hoping I’d get through to him.

  He sat there for a minute and then it was like the damned light bulb had finally come on. Thank God. “But, El, it was just for a commercial. And I didn’t kiss her.”

  Wow. “You don’t get it, Jag. And it’s the principle of it all. Something to do with respect for me!” I shouted, shaking my head.

  “I do get it, but it’s not that big of a deal, El!” he shouted right back.

  “Are you shitting me?” I all but screamed. He so totally just didn’t get it. Argh!

  “Keep your voice down,” he hissed.

  “Why? Afraid Alessandra might hear us and think you’re a bad guy?” He just stared up at me not saying a word. “That’s it. I’m outta here.” I spun to leave, so done with it all.

  Jag could move pretty fast when he wanted to. Before I knew it, he’d gotten up, bent down and stuck his shoulder in my stomach, picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom where he threw me down on the bed. I bounced once before he was on top of me, pinning me down with his body. I bucked underneath him, kicking my legs not wanting to be there, my hands going to his shoulders as I tried pushing him off me. He grabbed my wrists in one hand, pulling them over my head and held them there.

  “You’re not going anywhere until we get this shit worked out,” he snarled.

  Now, I didn’t really think he had a right to be snarling at the moment. I was the hurt party in this scenario not him. I should be the snarler in this situation, damn it.

  “Let me up!” I yelled, kicking my legs some more until he maneuvered a leg over them, stopping any movement.

  “Not until you calm down.” He was looking at me in shock like I was crazy which didn’t help at all. I know he’d never seen me so mad, so I probably did look a little nuts.

  I was breathing hard, still trying to get loose, angrier than I’d ever been in my life while he held me down just looking at the crazy chick underneath him and that’s when I started crying. Shit.

  “Baby,” he said.

  “Get off me,” I sobbed.

  He started to loosen his hold on my wrists, but when he felt me tense up as if I’d use my hands to push him away again, he tightened his hold. And that made me cry even harder. In my defense, I hadn’t cried about the stupid commercial at all, so I guessed it’d all built up and now the dam had broken.

  “El…”

  “Please, Jag…”

  “Not letting you leave, babe.”

  Oh. My. God. I was so fucking angry I wanted to claw his eyes out. I closed my own eyes, appalled that I’d even have those thoughts, but he’d cornered me and given me no choice.

  “S-swear t-to G-God, if y-you d-don’t get o-off m-me, I’ll s-scream,” I cried.

  His mouth came down hard on mine then, and when he rammed his tongue inside, I surprised myself when a low moan escaped me. I’d always loved Jag’s kisses, but this was different. This was hard and demanding. I mean, he’d gotten a little rough with me before, which I loved, but there was always a touch of tenderness behind it. This was angry. This was pissed off. And I was all for it.

  When he pulled his mouth away, I bit his bottom lip, holding it in my teeth for a second watching as his deep, blue eyes glittered back at mine as if to say, “You really wanna go there?” When I didn’t let his lip go right away, he got my answer loud and clear, knowing I’d accepted the challenge.

  He jerked my t-shirt up with his one hand, baring my breasts to him, his head came down, and he took my nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, making me gasp and arch up off the bed. He moved to my other breast, doing the same thing, and got the same reaction from me. His hand snaked down, going inside my shorts then he roughly pushed his finger inside me.

  “Dripping wet. Jesus, El,” he hissed, taking my mouth with his once again, pressing down hard and bruising my lips as he pumped his finger inside me. He then removed his hand from my shorts and tugged them and my panties down and off my legs. I heard something rip, but I couldn’t have cared less at that moment. His hand went to the fly of his jeans, he grabbed my leg behind the knee drawing my leg up, and I felt the tip of him at my entrance before he rammed inside powerfully making us both cry out.

  He still held my hands above my head, and I arched my back up against him, trying to get him to let them go. I wanted to touch him, but God, at this angle, his thrusting so hard inside me was driving me mad.

  He felt me spasm around him, knowing I was moving toward a climax. “That’s it, baby, I want you to come hard for me,” he said huskily in my ear.

  “Oh, God,” I breathed, knowing I wasn’t going to last long
.

  He let my wrists and leg go, and that’s when things got a little crazy. I brought my knees up to press against his sides and I dragged my nails down his back, scratching the hell out of him, making him suck in a breath and that’s when he pulled out and stayed out.

  “Jag, don’t stop!” I cried. I was so close.

  “We okay, El?” he asked, looking down at me.

  When I didn’t answer, just looked back at him not knowing what to say, he slammed back in then pulled out again.

  “We okay?”

  “I—” When I didn’t give him anything else, he executed another punishing slam inside, holding it and grinding into me.

  “Baby. We okay?”

  “Oh, God,” I said all breathy as he ground against me and I felt myself ready to tip over the edge.

  His hands slid under me then and he lifted my hips to him, and what I’d thought had been him slamming inside me was nothing compared to what he started doing.

  “Gonna make you feel me for days,” he said between thrusts so hard and deep that I made a mewling noise on each slam inside.

  It only took a couple more of these mind-blowing thrusts before we both reached our peak together, which had never happened before and I was kind of in awe of it all. He collapsed on top of me, crushing me, but I didn’t mind, loving how he felt on top of me, as he buried his nose in the side of my neck.

  We lay that way for several minutes before he pulled back, looking down at me and soberly asked, “Are we okay, El?”

  I nodded, a small smile on my face and he bent to kiss me so lovingly, it brought tears to my eyes. He got up to get a washrag, pulling his jeans back over his hips and I gasped when I saw what my nails had done to his back, so ashamed, knowing I’d done it specifically to hurt him. While I lay there, a sob choked out of me because I knew I’d just lied to him. The only way we’d be okay was if he understood why what he’d done bothered me. And I was scared that that wasn’t going to happen any time too soon.