Young, Allyson - Breathe [Running to Love 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  * * * *

  Jace stood under the streaming water and pressed his forehead up against the tiles. He struggled to process what had just happened with that incredible woman. His old man’s nasty prophecy popped into his head and Jace tried, without success, to push it away. Right, his old man, that prick who used his fists and boots on his wife and kids as far back as Jace could remember, as well as the whiplash of his tongue, until he finally drove them all away, had arrogantly predicted Jace’s life. The ultimate mind fuck. Jace’s mom lived on the east coast now, alone, having no inclination to trust a man again, and definitely not interested in her children who were testimony to her failure as a parent. Julia and Jordan had left home as soon as they were old enough to earn a living. Jordan had joined the military and was now a master sergeant, just back stateside from three tours in Iraq and sublimated all his sexual energy in service of his country as far as Jace could tell. He and Jace got together for a drink once in a while, and were connected in a way only released prisoners of war might understand. Julia was still single, too, and tended to choose assholes when she did try to have a relationship. Both he and Jordan had corrected her “lapses” in judgment over the years. Jace simply avoided commitment and used control in all his relationships, taking huge pride and solace in never crossing that line into abuse. Yup, the old man had left his mark on all of them, in spades.

  Being the youngest, Jace had probably caught the least of his shit. His father had less energy, what with being diagnosed with the MS and all, and was subsequently easier to avoid when his mood soured, although his disposition had worsened over time, if that were even possible. Jace had visited him in the care home, once, prior to his death, and the bitterness of rejection by his entire family had been all too evident.

  “You’ll meet someone, someday, my boy. Someone who’ll addle your brain, make you wild with lust, and then she’ll let you down. And you won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll show her. But she’ll tear out your heart anyhow, no matter what you do, and take everyone else with her when she goes. You’ll be just like me, and I fell in love with your mother at first sight. Bah. More like instantaneous infection.”

  Jace suddenly felt cursed. He hadn’t fallen for Rowan. He was simply highly attracted to her. There was no such thing as love at first sight. He had heard about a potential sexual partner from Ashley, had felt the challenge, seen her, had recognized how hot she was and simply lost control this once. And it wasn’t really a loss of control. He hadn’t hurt her. It didn’t mean anything. He wrenched the water off and grabbed a towel. He would begin Rowan’s education, her foray into intense sexuality tonight and ignore the aberration. He had put the cart well before the horse, and he would remedy that immediately. He strode into the bedroom, full of fear and purpose, and came up short when he realized she was gone. Cursed.

  He found his clothes neatly folded on the bed and his stomach clenched. So she hadn’t just run out of the room, freaked out. She had taken the time to think about things, maybe hesitated before she walked out on him. This was insane. What had happened? He intended to find out.

  * * * *

  He found the club empty, except for Alistair, who was ensconced in his office as usual. Did the man never go to bed? Hang out with friends outside of the damned club? Alistair didn’t say anything, just watched as Jace took the chair opposite him.

  “Did you see her leave?”

  “I called her a cab.”

  “Jesus, ’Stair. Thanks for all the favors. What, did she look like I’d beat on her or something?” Jace winced. His father’s voice reverberated in his head.

  “She looked unsettled, Jace. I didn’t particularly care for how it made me feel. May I ask what you actually did to her?”

  Jace hesitated. It felt so personal, private, but he knew when he needed help. He didn’t even know her last name, where she lived, nothing! He conveniently forgot how he had marched into the bedroom, intent on taking charge. It was like he was whipped. Fuck, that was it! That was why she ran. Maybe.

  “I had sex with her.”

  Alistair raised his eyebrows and looked curiously like Mr. Spock. Jace felt surreal. “You had sex with her.”

  “We discussed hard boundaries, and I had her strip, and then I had sex with her.”

  The strange, gravelly sound that broke the ensuing silence turned out to be Alistair’s laughter. Loud, abrasive, untried laughter.

  Finally, Alistair sobered. “Vanilla sex. Sex you could get anywhere. You had vanilla sex with an absolutely submissive woman who was here to learn about herself. Clear as the nose on your face. Fuck me, Jace. I’m sorry I laughed. Been there, done that. Good luck to you, man.”

  Jace instantly shook his head and rejected that implied premise. “I needed release because of how she responded to Greg and Lacey’s scene. Hell, I responded. It just happened. It won’t happen again. I’m going to ask her back here for next weekend and it’ll be different. Can you give me her particulars?”

  “You know I can’t, Jace.”

  Jace wanted to punch something, preferably Alistair’s goddamn sanctimonious face. He opened his mouth but recognized the inevitable. Well, there were other ways. He stood, glaring at ’Stair, shoving his chair back to rock on its legs as he left the office. He took some satisfaction in slamming the door so hard the sound reverberated at first in time, and then diminished, with his stomping footsteps as he exited the goddamn club.

  Chapter Six

  “Hey, Shakespeare.” Rowan looked up in surprise. Jackie was standing in front of her desk.

  “Jackie! What are you doing here?”

  “I had a day off, and thought I’d see if my best friend was available for lunch.”

  Rowan frowned. She rarely took time away from work for lunch, and Jackie knew it. “I wish you’d called me, Jackie. I’m pretty busy. The head is away on sick leave and I’m doing her job and mine.” Rowan narrowed her eyes on her friend. “What’s going on?”

  Jackie looked uneasy, and shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you and talk for a bit.”

  Rowan pondered Jackie’s seemingly innocent statement. She hadn’t seen her friend for over three weeks, and hadn’t really reached out either because every time they spoke, Jackie would raise the issue of Jace. Apparently he was asking for Rowan’s phone number, and Rowan didn’t want Jackie to give it to him. Rowan couldn’t find a way to explain the situation to Jackie without considering it herself, especially in the face of her friend’s apparent happiness. She knew that Jackie was building her relationship with Ashley, and it had stung her for some reason. It wasn’t that she was bothered by the lack of contact. Although she missed Jackie, she understood. No, what she felt was more like envy. She was glad for Jackie’s happiness, but envious that her friend had found something and that she hadn’t. Although, if she was honest with herself, she hadn’t waited long enough to see if things with Jace would go any further, something that had eaten away at her each and every day since that evening at the club, despite her best efforts to ignore it. It also intruded on her sleep, infusing her dreams with fantasies and fracturing any significant rest. She had no right to be envious but was, anyhow, which made her a pretty poor friend. “Sure. Give me a minute to let one of the other girls know. What the hell. It’s Friday. I’ll take the rest of the day.” It would mean killing herself tomorrow, and working on a Saturday when she had long since earned the right not to be scheduled to work weekends.

  Jackie gave her a grateful, tremulous smile and Rowan had a prescient feeling. Her friend was hiding something. She looked well, seemed happy, had that glowing look of a woman in love, a satisfied woman, actually, but there was something…well, they would go for lunch and have a long chat. Friends helped friends.

  They drove in Jackie’s little import to a restaurant Rowan hadn’t been to before. The signage discreetly advertised Polynesian and American cooking, and Rowan hid a smile. Jackie found the most interesting places to eat. She followed h
er through the outer restaurant, past the tables, to a booth right at the back. Whatever was bothering her friend seemed to require privacy. She slid across the faux leather seat to sit across from Jackie and Jace suddenly stepped out from the shadows and sat down beside her, effectively blocking her exit. Rowan felt such a myriad of emotions that she was momentarily robbed of speech. Momentarily.

  She flinched back into the corner of the booth, as far from Jace’s bulk as was possible and avoided looking at him. Instead she glared at Jackie. Her friend. Right.

  “What is this, Jackie?” She had the momentary satisfaction of seeing the other woman pale at the venom in her tone.

  “He’s been driving Ashley and I freaking insane for nearly three weeks. I don’t know what happened between you two, but Jace won’t let it go. You begged me not to leave your side at the club and then you vanished and sent that club owner to break the news that you weren’t leaving with us! Jace wanted your name, your number, your address. He said you left before he could get a way to keep in contact. He said he was going to follow me until I led you to him. I’ve begged you every time we spoke to let me give him your phone number and you won’t open up to me, won’t tell why you don’t want to talk to him! Rowan, you haven’t been yourself, and I know it has to do with Jace. Ashley is going to kill me for setting you up like this, but I didn’t give your personal information away. I didn’t even let you bring your own car, so he can’t trace the plate. Please, Shakespeare! He’s interfering with my whole life!”

  Rowan closed her eyes. She had stepped out of her comfort zone once. Once. She had taken a chance one goddamn time, thought she was onto something and then realized she’d been mistaken. It hadn’t meant that much to her, really it hadn’t. No harm, no foul. They had both gotten laid, to be crude, and it was over. She could feel him beside her, waiting patiently like some big predator, his heat and focus eating away at her composure. She had wanted so much more, and here he was, silently promising to make it up to her. She didn’t know how she recognized his intent, but she did. She just wasn’t certain she wanted to take the chance despite her body’s escalating response to the man.

  “Rowan? Just talk to him, okay? You know you need to deal with this, whatever it is. You can take as much or little time as you like. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you. Hell, I’ll just go sit at a table and wait for you. Okay?”

  Rowan nodded. She accepted the fact that Jace must have been incredibly determined to wear Jackie down, and she hadn’t helped her cause by withholding from her friend. It was just that she hadn’t known what to tell her, or tell herself. She also felt a little flattered, more than a little, to tell the truth, that Jace had gone to such lengths. Jackie sighed like a big gusty balloon and spoke to him. “Fuck her over, and I’ll have Ashley shoot you. I’ll be in such trouble because of you. I don’t want to see you anywhere near me again!”

  Rowan almost laughed when Jace solemnly agreed, and Jackie stormed away to take a seat within visual distance. It seemed so out of character for him. She reached for a menu, his silent brooding presence now making her even more anxious and aroused than she cared to admit. He could damn well buy her lunch while they were talking and it would serve as a barrier while she regrouped. Rowan seemed to remember they had done their talking that night at the club, and she had opened up, but things had taken a different path, kind of a familiar one, when she had hoped for something challenging! As if reading her mind, Jace grasped her elbow and drew her with him across the slippery seat and up to her feet, right beside him, the menu fluttering to the table top from her suddenly nerveless fingers. She resisted, and he tightened his grip.

  “I can cuff you, honey, or you can come willingly.”

  Rowan gaped at him and her panties flooded, simultaneously. Here she was, a professional, already recognized in her field, strong and efficient, and totally reluctant to make a scene in public. It was just an excuse, however, and she knew it was that submissive side of her that made her want to go with him and face the consequences. Rowan reached for sanity one last time, opening her mouth to refuse, but he cut her off, speaking against her temple, and making the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck ripple in response.

  “Don’t want to hear it. You forfeited the right to discussion when you walked out without my permission.”

  His deep, dark tone sealed the deal, and Rowan looked to Jackie, who was trying to seem innocuous yet available. They made eye contact, and Rowan gave Jackie another nod to reassure her friend that she was leaving with Jace voluntarily. Jackie fixed Jace with a black look and he, too, nodded back at her. Rowan forced her legs to work naturally and carry her out the back door of the restaurant and along the alley to what appeared to be an unmarked police car. Jace efficiently helped her into the passenger seat and latched the seat belt. It felt quite masterful, and her arousal grew. God. It was like a wicked kidnapping fantasy. The door shut with a heart-stopping clunk and he was around the vehicle and into the driver’s side within a blink, turning the engine over and shoving the stick into gear. Rowan studied his craggy profile covertly and got caught looking when he stopped for a red light and turned to look at her, speculatively. Rowan broke first and looked down at her hands, now clasped obediently on her lap. She didn’t want him to read the naked need she was certain was shining in her eyes. She felt like a twisted mass of nerves and concentrated on her surroundings to settle herself. The car had an odd underlying smell but Jace’s clean, spicy scent prevailed and enveloped Rowan. His large, competent hands managed the wheel with dexterity, and the sound of the big engine seemed to reflect his own quiet strength. The radio murmured incomprehensible things, much like the thoughts running through Rowan’s head. The seat itself had been molded by a variety of bottoms, and Rowan felt cradled in its depths, her head supported by the headrest. She impulsively reached up to release her hair, allowing the strands to veil her face. She felt Jace stir beside her and fought a smile. It wouldn’t do to seem less than respectful. She suspected he was going to show his displeasure with her, and didn’t need to add to her sins.

  The car pulled into a parking lot within minutes and Rowan realized they were back at the club. In the middle of the afternoon. There were no other vehicles there, with the exception of a big black pickup. Rowan shivered in anticipation and unfastened her seat belt. Jace exited and came around to her side, yanking the door open, and she jumped out instantly, hoping to placate him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a hard kiss with just a hint of tongue, and even that took her breath away, but it was nothing to being spun around and pushed up against the closed car door. He pulled her arms behind her back and she felt the cuffs snap shut on her wrists. Oh God. A darker fantasy. A cocktail of lust and fear filled her belly. Her knees sagged, and she heard him chuckle before he growled, “Not a word.”

  His big hands roamed impersonally up and down her frame, pausing briefly to lift and squeeze her breasts. One slipped beneath her skirt and pulled her panties down to her knees before a finger flirted through her folds and then pushed upwards into her opening as if searching for contraband. Rowan stepped wider, stretching her underwear to the limit and Jace stepped back, pulling her to stand tall.

  “Step out.” Rowan obediently kicked out of her panties and felt Jace stoop to pick them up. He shoved them in a pocket and gave her a smile that made her wish for the material to soak up her flowing juices. She closed her eyes against him for a moment and breathed.

  She blinked her eyes wide as he spun her from the car, and then he was frog-marching her up the steps of the club where he punched in a code and walked her through the entrance. The door shut behind her with the finality of a cell slamming shut, and Rowan’s entire body went into high arousal alert. She could feel her thighs slip and slide together in her copious moisture and her breasts ached within the restraint of her camisole.

  Everything looked different. The window coverings were pulled aside and daylight spilled onto the furnishings, shimmering among the dust m
otes, the room empty of both conversation and sexual tension. Well, empty except for the daunting amount surrounding her and Jace. He urged her through the lounge and through that damn green door. It held total symbolism for her today. They entered the same room he had taken her to nearly three weeks ago, the scene of the crime. Jace released the handcuffs and rubbed gently at the slight red marks, and Rowan reveled in the dichotomy. He stepped back and leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

  “Strip. All of it.”

  Rowan’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on the front of her suit and managed to open them. She carried the jacket to the closet and hung it up, and then stepped out of the matching skirt, folding it over a hanger. She placed her shoes neatly on the closet floor, hearing Jace make a strangled sound behind her when she bent over to do so, and then slipped off the camisole with the built-in bra. She draped it over her skirt and followed it with her thigh highs.

  “Come here.”

  Rowan again made her legs carry her forward, although it was as if she couldn’t feel the plush carpet beneath her bare feet. She should have felt grounded but instead was off-kilter, unsettled, just as Jace likely intended her to feel. She walked stiffly to where Jace was waiting, his face like granite, his eyes unreadable.

  “Take my shirt off.”

  Those little buttons nearly defeated her trembling fingers, but she persevered and tugged his shirt tail from his pants, standing on her toes to slip the garment down from his shoulders and over his arms and then hung it up, too. Without further instruction, she crouched at his feet to pull his shoes and socks off, as he obligingly lifted one foot and then the other. He rested one big hand on her head, and it felt like a benediction. Rowan stood and began to unfasten his belt, working the end free from the loop and popping the little metal tongue free from the hole in the leather. She went to open the button on his pants when he spoke again.