Beast

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Jasmine shakes her head as she clutches her purse tightly. “No. I really don’t want to intrude.”

  “C’mon, Jazz. You’re more than welcome,” Ruth says. “I want you to stay,” she says in a suggestive tone with a slight nod in my direction. When Jasmine blushes, Ruth throws in a not-so-discreet wink.

  Jasmine sighs, her shoulders slumping forward. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  “Great,” Michael says, tapping his fingers lightly against the counter, then turning to his wife. “Babe, help me set the table.”

  Ruth makes small talk as she pulls pristine white tableware from the cabinets and lays them on the dining table. Michael busies himself setting out the lasagna, salad and cutlery. The married couple seems to be enjoying each other’s company so much that they don’t even notice that neither Jasmine nor I are participating in their conversation. I can’t stop watching her as she takes a seat next to Ruth at the table. Her eyes are downcast and she’s fiddling with her fork. I slide into the chair across from her, my heartbeat radiating throughout my entire body.

  I don’t usually accept social invitations – I’m far too hideous and disfigured to keep the company of regular folks. I’m a decrepit ex-marine, a monster, a shadow of a man. My wounds make people uncomfortable. The polite ones try to compensate by being overly kind and accomodating. The impolite ones stare and move their chairs away from me – But when Michael Moretti suggested that we meet, I really saw no other choice.

  I’ve just taken over his position as managing partner of Cartwright Moretti Stevenson, the law firm that our fathers founded together over thirty years ago. I had been relieved when he proposed that we have dinner at his condo because I hate crowded restaurants where strangers can get a good look at my scars. Michael and I have known each other our whole lives. He knew me before I had these scars. So, I agreed to meet him here to discuss business. I could handle that without succumbing to a mini panic attack.

  But, I can’t handle Jasmine Santiago sitting across the table from me. I wasn’t prepared for this.

  God – she’s beautiful.

  I wish I could read her mind right now. I’d bet that she’s embarrassed that she ever had sex with me. She probably looked at me when I walked through the door tonight, saw my wounded, damaged face and felt repulsed that she ever let me put my grimy hands on her immaculate body. To her, having sex with me was probably just one of those foolish things that women in their early 20s do and wake up to regret it the next day.

  As we sit and eat dinner, Ruth asks questions about my experiences working at the law firm’s Texas office. I struggle with the weight of her stare. It’s so direct I can almost feel it penetrating my skin. I try to keep a pleasant demeanor as I offer her short, straightforward answers. But Jasmine is all I’m thinking about.

  I can smell her…a sexy mix of grapefruit, soft florals and body heat. It all reminds me of the night when I spread her out on my bed and licked every inch of her. My cock stirs at the idea of doing it again.

  I push the thought out of my head. Get it together, man. This woman isn’t pining away for me. She’s entirely too beautiful, too intelligent to be concerned with me. She has a bright future ahead of her. And me? All I have to offer is darkness.

  Ruth stifles a yawn and her husband slides his arm across the back of her chair. “Maybe we should call it a night, guys.” But the look on his face says that sleep isn’t his true motive for wanting to get his wife to bed.

  Jasmine pushes her half-eaten lasagna away from her. “Yes – I should get going.” She stands brusquely with her purse in hand, mutters a goodbye and snatches her jacket off of the coat rack on her way out the door.

  Chapter 3

  I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  I could feel Liam’s eyes on me throughout dinner. He was judging me. Reminiscing about how easy it had been to get me naked and on my knees with his big, thick cock halfway down my throat.

  I couldn’t bear the weight of my humiliation any longer, so I bolted out of there.

  Rain starts pouring almost as soon as I step out of the lobby door and onto the sidewalk. A groan tears out of me when I look up the street and see my bus swerving towards the next intersection. Shit – just missed it.

  I can already feel my mascara stinging my eyes and I’m sure that the curls I’d spent 45 minutes twisting into my hair have fallen flat.

  I debate whether or not I should just head back up to Ruthie’s apartment to wait out the rain. But from the look that Michael was giving her as I barreled out of their apartment, I bet that they’re both already naked and screwing their way through every position in the kama sutra by now. There’s no way I’m about to intrude on those perfect people having perfect sex in their perfect apartment. No – I’ll just cower in the bus shed at the corner of the block and wait for my next bus.

  I lower myself onto the bench in the dark bus shed and riffle through my purse looking for some paper tissue to blot my stinging eyes. And of course, I’m thinking about Liam Cartwright, Mr. One-Night-Stand himself.

  Still tall and wide-shouldered and gorgeous with his dark hair and beard just a touch longer than before and his skin wearing a kissable tan. He’d been completely unaffected by my presence tonight. “Hello Jasmine. Good to see you again.” Like we were just old work colleagues, acquaintances who hadn’t run into each other in a while. This man has been ghosting my mind for two years, his touch haunting my body for just as long and when we finally meet after all this time, all he has for me is impassive eyes and “Good to see you again”?

  Fuck. I’ve never felt so small.

  A twinge of caution ripples through me when a gleaming black motorcycle pulls up right outside of the bus shed. Instinctively, I reach into my purse and my fingers curl around the canister of pepper spray that Madison gave me a while back after Hailey got mugged in broad daylight at Union Square. If this sucker thinks I’m going down without a fight, he’s got another thing coming to him.

  Only when the tall, broad-shouldered man draped over the motorcycle flips up the opaque visor of his helmet do I realize that it’s Liam.

  His voice barely rises above the clattering of the rain against the thick glass of the bus shed’s walls. “Let me take you home.”

  “No thanks,” I say dryly. “My bus will be here any minute.”

  He spits out a mirthless laugh. “Sorry – you interpreted that as a question. It wasn’t.”

  My eyebrows pinch together. “Excuse me?”

  He kicks down the brake pedal and climbs off of the bike, leaving it idling at the curb. “I’m not about to leave you standing on the side of the road half-dressed and half-drunk just so you can prove how independent you are, Jasmine.”

  Wow – I think that’s the most words Liam Cartwright has ever said to me all at once.

  I fold my arms across my chest defiantly. “I don’t need you to save me. I would have been just fine if you hadn’t shown up here tonig –”

  A bolt of lightening slices through the sky, scaring the shit out of me. I yelp.

  Liam sighs as he marches back to the motorcycle and pulls another helmet out of the bike’s storage compartment. He comes to me and slides it onto my head. He lowers his face to mine. “Don’t be stubborn,” he growls low, causing my skin to prickle as his warm breath skirts my top lip.

  I could protest, but I think I’ve already made enough of a fool of myself for one night. No need to be any more unreasonable. I trail him quietly as he heads off towards the bike. He swings his leg over the seat and I begrudgingly saddle up behind him. My arms slide around his waist and his warm, musky scent envelops me as he pulls away from the curb.

  After I give him my address, we ride wordlessly thorough the streets of Manhattan, the sounds of Saturday night traffic providing a soundtrack for our silence. Liam zooms effortlessly between cars and yellow cabs. The warm, muggy rain washes away some of my inhibitions. I cling tighter to him, taking greedy inhales of his scent, stealing the warmth of his body.<
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  It’s intimate. Being so close to him, smelling him, feeling the heat of his body. I could stay like this with him for a long time, the city zooming by at high speed, my head leaning against his wide shoulders. It all brings me back to that night two years ago. It makes my body yearn for the release that only he has ever been able to give me.

  The rainstorm is over by the time we slow to a rolling stop outside of my 30-unit East Harlem apartment complex. The ride was way too short. While we rode through the streets, I pretended that things had worked out differently. That he’d called when he said he would. That we’d gone out on a date. And then another. And then, he’d made me his girl.

  I hate the fact that he never made me his girl.

  I want to scream at him. To yell at him for hurting me. But I keep my mouth shut, choosing to protect my pride instead of demanding the answers that I deserve.

  I dismount the motorcycle and he follows behind me.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I challenge with a hand firmly on my hip.

  “I’m walking you to your door.”

  I shake my head fervently. As much as I wish things could have been different between us, I won’t let him weasel his way into my bed tonight. I have some self-respect left in me and I plan to preserve it. “I don’t think so.” After the way things turned out the last time I let him have my body, there’s no way I’m letting him anywhere near my apartment tonight.

  He releases a frustrated breath and pins me with an irritated glare. I won’t back down. I hold his stare, returning an equal amount of fire. Then, he reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket and grabs a pen before gripping my hand. My skin tingles as he scribbles ten digits onto my palm. “If you don’t call me within three minutes, I’m coming into that building and I’ll knock on every single door till I find you and know that you’re safe.”

  I roll my eyes. “A little overkill, don’t you think?”

  He gives me a scolding glare. “Jasmine…” The word is heavy with authority and causes a tingle to skitter across my skin. He’s actually serious. How ridiculous.

  I exhale heavily before turning on my heel and stalking towards the main entrance of my building.

  “Don’t make me come in there, Jasmine,” he threatens.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll call you.” And despite my best efforts, I feel a smile itching at my lips as I slide my key into the lock and enter the lobby.

  I take the stairs two by two up to my fourth floor apartment. Once I’m inside, I pull my cellphone out of my clutch and punch in the numbers Liam scribbled onto my palm.

  “Jasmine?” His gravely voice comes through the earpiece.

  “I’m inside. I’m safe,” I say.

  He pulls in a long breath. “Good.”

  There’s an awkward pause. “Okay, then,” I say to fill it.

  “Good night, Jasmine.”

  “Good night, Liam.”

  And my heart twitches as I press the red button, disconnecting the call.

  Chapter 4

  I can almost hear my thoughts echo in the silent room, bouncing off of the walls as I lay on top of my sheets in my hollow, cavernous loft. The fact that I can’t sleep is nothing new. I thank god for the nights when the insomnia awaits me. The insomnia means that I don’t have to face the nightmares. I don’t have to face the ghosts. That in itself is a gift.

  I still can’t believe that I saw her tonight.

  Jasmine Santiago.

  For the past two years, she’s the only woman I’ve wanted. The memories of the night we shared together are still vivid in my mind.

  The dramatic curve of her back. Her creamy, caramel skin. The melody of her whimpers.

  Everything is fresh in my mind.

  She’s the only woman who has ever affected me this way. The only one who’s made me crave a connection.

  The night we met, she was just an intern at a competitive law firm, eager to get ahead. At first I tried to convince myself that that was the only reason she slept with me. But I could see the vulnerability in her eyes, I could hear it in her cries, I could feel it where the tips of her fingers trailed across my skin.

  She’d wanted me that night. Her desire had been real.

  I’ve spent the last two years craving her. But she doesn’t feel the same way about me. The hollowness in her eyes when she looked at me tonight, it killed me. There was nothing there. She feels nothing at all for me.

  And that’s all for the best anyway because even if she wanted me, I wouldn’t be able to give her all the things that she deserves. I can’t be the man that she needs. After all, I’m nothing but a monster.

  I haven’t been able to touch a woman since the night I laid my hands on my sweet Jasmine. Even when I met a particularly adventurous woman in an online chat room and she showed up at my Texas home with her equally adventurous friend, I’d spent the evening watching them feast on each other’s bodies and nothing they did interested me enough to partake in the activity.

  Seeing Jasmine tonight only intensified all the things I feel for her. My cock grew thick and hard as a tree trunk the instant I felt her supple breasts press into my back and her arms wrap around my torso. And when she climbed off of my bike, my body felt bereft without the warmth of hers.

  Knowing that I’ll get to see this woman every day is the only reason that I accepted my father’s request that I take over the role of managing partner of Cartwright Moretti Stevenson. And I have no idea how I’ll handle the task. Ever since I got back from Afghanistan, burned and maimed, I’ve worked in seclusion. I don’t even meet with clients face-to-face. I keep to myself. I stay in the shadows. PTSD is a bastard son-of-a-bitch.

  But now here I am. I’ve moved to Manhattan and am sitting at the helm of a 500-person law firm. Just the thought of interacting with dozens of people on a daily basis makes my throat tight and my palms sweaty.

  What the hell was I thinking accepting this gig?

  The mere opportunity to be close to a woman like Jasmine Santiago will make a man do foolish things.

  I run my hand over my beard, my fingers grazing the rough scar tissue barely concealed by the hair. It’s a reminder of all the ugly things I’ve done in my life. It’s a reminder of how much I don’t deserve Jasmine.

  The selfish beast in me wants to take her. Mark her. Tell the whole world that she’s mine. But as much as I want her, I have to remind myself that there are ugly pieces of me that I don’t want getting anywhere near her. She’s tempting but I know better than to put my grimy paws on her again. Keeping my distance is the best thing I can do for her.

  It’s dangerous to let myself wonder how things could have been different if I’d called her like I’d said I would. I can never act on my desire for her.

  I have to protect her against myself and my own carnal desires.

  Chapter 5

  I’m still in a funky mood when I arrive at work on Monday morning.

  The mere fact that Liam will be working at the New York office from now on has me feeling kind of skittish. The fact that he’s now technically my boss only makes it worse. What if I have to see him everyday? Will I be able to handle that? Is my heart strong enough to take it? What if I see him flirting with his secretary or what if he starts dating one of the lawyers? I don’t know how well I’d cope with that. The jealousy would probably kill me.

  I boot up the laptop on my desk and groan. Now really isn’t the time to fret over Liam Cartwright. Work has a funny way of accumulating over the weekend. I’ve got a ton of emails just sitting in my inbox, waiting for my attention.

  But first, coffee.

  I drop my notepad, pen and smartphone onto my desk and make my way out the door of my tiny office. Although my office is small, I’m grateful that the narrow space between these four walls is my own. During my internship, all the interns worked at open-concept cubicles with absolutely no privacy. So, this teeny room is a significant step up.

  Just as I step outside of my door, I see Luke Daley walk out
of his office across the hall. He’s carrying a box containing his books, framed diplomas and other personal effects. I rush up to him. “Luke,” I whisper loudly. “What happened? Did you get fired?”

  He scrunches his eyebrows at me and hocks a laugh. “No – I sort of just got promoted.”

  “Promoted?” How the hell did Luke get a promotion? He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed and he doesn’t work particularly hard. I feel that I deserve a promotion far more than he does.

  He grins at me. “Yup – I’m moving into Michael’s old office.”