by Bryony Kayn
“I’ll be around,” Steve replied, running a finger down her chest to the top fastened button.
“Good,” she said, biting her bottom lip in an unconsciously sexy way. “I’ll see you in a bit.” Then she kissed him again, quickly this time, and pulled away from him to go back to work.
“In a better mood now?” Angel asked sardonically.
Steve just gave him a cool look and didn’t reply.
Angel sighed and walked away from the bar toward the tables.
When the club closed, Jake hurried through her side work. Steve was sitting at the end of the bar talking to Angel and Nikky, while Sly stood behind the bar, also involved in their conversation. Spyk had taken off a couple hours before, saying she needed to get home to check on her sister.
“Ready whenever you are,” Jake said when she was finished, coming over to put her arm around Steve’s waist.
“Did you check the inventory?” Sly asked.
Jake nodded. “Yeah, I gave the sheets to Juan.”
Sly nodded, smoothing his long mustache. “See you tomorrow night, then,” he said, raising a hand at the three men. “Guess I’ll be seeing you, too?”
“Most likely,” Angel agreed, standing up from his barstool. “Have a good night, man.”
“I have a date,” Nikky commented, glancing at his Rolex. “Guess I’d better show up.”
Jake laughed. Leave it to Nikky to make a late night date sound like a chore. “Make her really happy and she won’t care if you’re late,” she offered.
“That’s never a problem,” Nikky said, winking at her suggestively. “Catch you guys later.” Then it was just Jake, Steve, and Angel at the bar.
“See you at the house?” Angel asked casually, heading toward the front doors.
“Actually, I was planning on taking Jake back to my place tonight,” Steve replied, following behind the taller man with his arm possessively across Jake’s shoulders.
Jake glanced up at his shadowed profile, wondering if she should insist on going back to Angel’s. But what was the point? Did it really matter where they spent the night since they were spending it together?
Angel stepped to one side after exiting the building so he could walk on Jake’s left. He seemed to want to say something, but appeared unsure of whether or not to open his mouth.
“Is that okay with you?” Steve asked sarcastically, his question directed at the guitarist.
“As long as it’s okay with Jake, I don’t give a shit,” Angel replied bluntly, a touch of anger in his tone.
“It’s fine,” Jake said quickly, putting her hand on Angel’s arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel-mine,” she added.
Angel glanced down at her, his eyes measuring her expression, but just nodded without saying anything. He looked back up at Steve, his gaze faintly challenging. “Take it easy, Steve,” he said with emphasis on easy. Then he turned toward the back employee parking lot where Jake had left his convertible.
Jake took a deep, silent breath, watching him go. She walked with Steve toward his black sports car and waited while he opened the passenger door for her so she could get in. He shut her door and walked around the back of the car to the driver’s side. When he got in, he put the key in the ignition, but didn’t immediately start the car.
“What’s going on between you and Angel?” she asked, deciding it was pointless to pretend she hadn’t noticed the tension between them.
“He’s been reading me the riot act,” Steve returned, nothing in his voice to reveal how he felt about that. “I’m getting tired of hearing it.”
“About me,” Jake said softly.
Steve glanced at her, then held his hand out to her, palm up. When she put her hand in his, he grasped it lightly, and lifted her hand to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles. “He seems to think I’m gonna run you off again.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she averred as he pressed his lips to her hand again.
“Good,” he said, rubbing the back of her hand against his cheek. Then he put her hand on his thigh, and started the car.
They drove to his house in silence, only the songs on the radio to break the quiet. Steve pulled into the garage, hitting the remote to close the door, and got out of the car. He walked around to let Jake out, taking her hand solicitously. Then he walked with her into the house, pausing only to arm the alarm system.
Jake headed straight for the kitchen, taking a moment to kick off her sandals beside the couch. She went to the cupboard beside the fridge and opened it to reveal a shelf fully stocked with liquor. “Want something?” she called over her shoulder, pulling a bottle of bourbon down.
“That’ll work,” Steve said coming into the kitchen behind her and dropping his keys on the counter. When she half filled a glass for him, he took a small sip before setting it aside.
Jake took a long swallow from her own glass, sighing as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
“Tomorrow I want to start bringing your things over here,” Steve said, stepping closer to her and putting his hands on her hips.
She stared at him, floored by this statement that had come out of the blue. Finally, aware that he was waiting for her response, she said, “I’m not moving in with you, Steve. I told you that at the beginning.”
He moved his hands to the front of her shirt and began undoing the buttons. “There’s no reason not to, Jae. I love you. You love me. Why shouldn’t we live together?”
She opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of what to say. She did love him. She’d admitted as much this morning. And prevarication aside, it was true. But she still wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment. “Steve,” she said, putting her hands over his to stop him, “I’m not ready. Not yet. What’s the hurry?”
“I want you here where you belong,” he said, his voice fervent with a mix of emotions.
“We’re with each other every night, babe. Why does it matter if my shit is in your closet or over at Angel’s?” she asked.
“This is my home,” he said softly, freeing his hands from hers gently so he could continue to unfasten her shirt. “You belong here with me. Why do you want to wait?”
Because she was scared it wasn’t going to work out—but she couldn’t say that to him, not right out. Not in the mood he was in tonight. “I just don’t want to make any more hasty decisions. They always turn out badly,” she said, closing her eyes when he unfastened the last button and pushed her shirt back off her shoulders. “I just need some more time.”
“We’ve wasted enough time,” he said, pushing her shirt down until she pulled her arms out of the sleeves. He tossed the shirt onto the counter and slipped his arms around her, fingers searching for the clasp of her bra. “It’s time for us to be together, the way we always should have been.” He popped the clasp and slipped her bra off, tossing it on top of the shirt. One hand splayed against her back, supporting her while the other cupped her breast, squeezing gently as he pressed her back against the counter.
“Steve, you’re not listening to me,” she said, her head falling back as his mouth fastened on her throat. His touch, as always, fanned flames in her blood. Her heart was beginning to race.
“You’re not listening to me,” he returned, his voice rough, and he bent her backwards, his mouth on her nipple.
“Ahh,” she sighed, her hand at the back of his head, the feel of his mouth on her breast only heightening her desire. Drowning in sensation, she forced herself not to give in. She mustn’t let him have his way just because he made her want him so much. “I’m not moving in,” she breathed, her other hand braced against the granite countertop. The cold edge of stone bit into her back painfully, but Steve wouldn’t let her straighten.
“Don’t argue with me when you know you don’t want to,” he said, lifting his head to gaze directly into her eyes. His dark eyes were steady, so sure of what he was saying and doing, the power of his charisma almost enough to make her capitulate.
“Do you want me to
lie to you?” she asked, pushing away from the edge of the counter. Her back ached. “Do you want me to just tell you what I think you want to hear? Or do you want me to be honest with you?”
He gritted his teeth, his eyes getting colder. “Don’t ever lie to me, Jae.”
“Then you have to listen to me when I’m telling you the truth,” she said, putting her hands on his chest. “Don’t push me, baby. I’m not ready to move in here, and I don’t want you to persuade me. When the time is right, we’ll take the next step.”
“When will that be?” he asked, an edge to his voice. He was angry that she wasn’t going along with him, which was obvious enough.
“I don’t know,” she said, crossing her arms over her bare breasts. “And now you’re pissed at me.”
“You love me as much as I love you,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You want me as much as I want you. Why isn’t that enough?” His grip became tighter, and he shook her a little, as though trying to make her understand. “What do you want that I’m not giving you?”
“Time,” she replied, ignoring the pressure of his fingers.
“Fuck,” he said, abruptly letting go of her. With one hand he swept their glasses off the counter. They crashed to the slate-tiled floor and shattered, shards of glass flying everywhere. Without another word, he stalked through the broken glass, his shoes gritting on the stone floor, and headed for the bedroom.
Jake dropped her head, eyes shut and her arms still crossed over her breasts, hugging herself tightly. Her shoes were by the couch, and the broom was in the hallway. It took a minute, but when she’d calmed down a little, she grabbed her shirt and pulled it on, not bothering to button it. She just tied the ends in a knot at her waist. She crouched down, checking for any clear way through the broken glass for her to step. Glass and spilled bourbon glittered in the overhead lights. Finally, she climbed up on the counter, sat on the higher section on the opposite side where the barstools lined up, and dropped down onto the carpet.
She thought about cleaning up the glass, then decided it was Steve’s mess—he could take care of it. She thought about calling Angel to come get her, but was sure that would only make matters worse. At last, she walked across the big open room and down the short hallway leading into the master bedroom.
When she stepped inside, she found Steve standing halfway across the room with his back to the door. His hands were white-knuckled fists at his sides.
“Steve?” she said.
“What?”
She put a hand over her mouth, feeling tears sting her eyes. His voice was cold and taut as a tripwire. When he spoke like that, it scared her and it angered her. She didn’t want to go back to the old relationship, but could feel them sliding back into old habits. “Do you want me to leave?”
He turned to face her, hands still clenched. “No, I want you to stay,” he said and crossed the room to her. He came so fast she only had time to take a single step back before he reached her. “Haven’t you been listening?” he asked, his temper audible in his voice. He grabbed her arms in the same place as the day before, his grip making the bruises throb. “I want you to stay,” he repeated, then his mouth was on hers. There was nothing gentle about it. The kiss was urgent and demanding, the pressure of his mouth making her head fall back. He pushed her backwards, and her only choice was to backpedal quickly to avoid falling. Then she slammed into the wall, her head rebounding painfully.
“I want you,” he said, his voice harsh. His hands were at the waist of her jeans, undoing the button and zipper. Her head rang as he pushed her jeans and panties down her legs. “I want to fuck you, Jae,” he growled, ripping his shirt off over his head and then unfastening his own pants. “I want to fuck you till you understand how much I need you.”
She reached up, touching the back of her head. She couldn’t feel anything, no blood, so she was probably okay. “Steve—” she said, but he didn’t let her say anything else.
His mouth was on hers again, his tongue pushing past her half-open lips. He slammed her hard against the wall again and bent to grip her thighs. With no further warning he lifted her, sliding her up the wall. She cried out as the rough texture of the wall grated across her lower back. He thrust into her, and she cried out again. Her hands clutched his shoulders, and he thrust again and again. Without quite realizing it, she locked her legs around him. The pain in her head and back faded as the pleasure in her loins grew.
“God, I love to fuck you,” he grated, not slowing down. Again and again he slammed her into the wall. She was crying out but her arms were tight around his neck. She moved her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. “I want you, and God, I love you, Jae,” he said and kissed her again. This time, the pressure of his mouth wasn’t painful. She opened her mouth to him, accepting his tongue willingly.
“Tell me you love me,” he said, burying his face in her tangled hair.
“I love you,” she panted, feeling a rising wave of sensation that she knew would soon crest.
“Again,” he said, thrusting harder.
“I love you,” she cried, and as she climaxed she dug her nails into his back, drawing blood.
He thrust again and again, the pain of her scratches only adding to his own orgasm. When he finally stopped moving, just holding her pinned against the wall, they were both breathing heavily. After a while he pulled back, lowering her slowly until her feet could touch the floor.
She hissed as the bare skin of her lower back scraped across the textured wall again. Then she stood on her own feet, her head hanging as she caught her breath.
“You blow my fucking mind,” Steve said, touching her face.
“I’m not moving in,” she said curtly, determined to be clear. She raised her head to meet his startled eyes. “It doesn’t matter how pissed or how horny you get. I’m not moving in.” Then she went past him, walking gingerly toward the bathroom.
“Shit,” Steve said.
Jake looked back once to see the pained expression on his face and, beyond him, the traces of blood she had left on the wall. Then he came after her to help her clean up the scrapes.
When Jake awoke the next morning, the first thing she did was groan softly. The back of her head throbbed, and she felt cautiously at the knot on the back of her skull. But it was her lower back that had caused the groan. The abraded skin burned and stung, made even worse because Steve was pressed against her. The heat of his body had caused her to sweat, and the salt sting was almost unbearable.
She pulled away from him, pushing his arm aside where it draped across her ribs. She wasn’t gentle about it. She didn’t care to be considerate of him this morning. She had to work tonight, and she had no idea what she was going to wear. Her usual tight jeans would be an agony by the end of the night. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and hung her head while she waited for the stinging to ease.
“Jae,” Steve said softly, a note of remorse in his voice. He reached out to lightly touch her back above the scrapes. “Baby, what can I do?”
She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, tangled strands of hair crossing her face. “I could really use a cup of coffee and some aspirin.”
He sat up and slid across the bed to sit beside her, then put his arm around her gently. “There’s aspirin in the medicine cabinet,” he said, kissing her temple. “I’ll go start a pot of coffee.”
She watched as he stood and crossed the room, grabbing a pair of shorts from his closet to pull on. Scabbed scratches crisscrossed his broad back, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling less than her best this morning.
When she came out into the living room wearing one of Steve’s T-shirts and nothing else, she found him sweeping up the broken glass from the night before. She’d found the aspirin and swallowed four with a glass of water before checking her back in the reflection of the mirror. Steve had helped her wash the scrapes the night before, spreading an antiseptic ointment over them to b
e sure they didn’t get infected. Now they were red and tender, but would probably heal in a few days.
“Coffee’s almost done,” he said, dumping the dustpan full of glass shards into the garbage can. He walked around the corner to return the broom to its closet, then crossed to her and put his arms around her, pulling her gently against him. “Bad?”
“Bad enough,” she replied, returning his embrace loosely. She put her head against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat. “You?”
He shrugged, making a face as the scratches on his back pulled. “I’ll live.” He leaned back a little, putting his hand under her chin to lift her face. “I’m sorry, Jae.”
She sighed, closing her eyes wearily. She had gotten very tired of hearing those words from him. He’d said them after every fight, except the last big one. “Baby, I love you,” she said, making herself meet his dark eyes squarely. “That isn’t the issue. But we can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
His arms tightened around her and a wary expression touched his eyes, but he said nothing.
“You can hurt me so easily,” she whispered, sliding her hand up his chest. “Without meaning to. Without even realizing it, sometimes. I know you didn’t know how much you were hurting me last night; I know it. But it happened all the same.”
“I meant it when I said I was sorry,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her back gently, being sure not to go any lower than her waist. “Don’t you believe me?”
“I believe you,” she said. Her voice became flat as she continued, “But ‘sorry’ doesn’t make the pain go away, Steve. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t get me through tonight, waiting tables and trying to pretend that nothing’s wrong with me. ‘Sorry’ is sweet, but more or less useless.” She saw his jaw clench, and his chest tightened under her hand.