Second Chance Hero

by Rebecca Sherwin

  I turn and leave, praying he doesn’t follow me.

  “Number three?!” I hear her ask, as I walk out of the door and don’t look back.

  Chapter 7

  Deacon

  Fuck.

  “Kate, what the hell is wrong with you?” I shouldn’t make a scene, but really I couldn't give a fuck, “What is it with the women in this town?”

  I push her off my lap and she reluctantly stands up. She’s just found out she’s my supposed number three and she still doesn’t want to leave.

  “What does she mean by number three?” Kate asks, so close to my chair I can't stand up.

  The waitress appears with the food, and looks at the mess of the situation.

  “I’ll have them to go, and the bill.”

  “She meant what she said,” I growl, feeling like a bastard. I might have a problem with commitment but I respect women, “You’re the third girl I’m screwing who she’s seen me with.”

  “But I thought-“

  “I know what you thought but I don’t do girlfriends. I thought I made that clear with my words and my actions. I don’t know what it is with you girls and labelling.”

  She stands there in shock, eyes wide and moist. The waitress brings over the food in a paper bag and I hand her some money to cover the bill.

  “I have to go,” I say pushing my chair back far enough to get out.

  “Shall I call you?” She cries after me as I walk towards the exit, angry and frustrated that I’ve just blown another chance with Jenna.

  “What do you think?” I call over my shoulder.

  Jenna’s car is parked at the kerb outside the restaurant and I peer through the window, expecting to see Jenna going crazy in the driver’s seat. Her car is empty and I look up to the sky as the clichéd rain begins to pour.

  I rub the rain off my face and run across the road to my truck to look around for Jenna. She’s angry with me, but why would she not just drive home? Shit. I bang my fists on the steering wheel, turn the key in the ignition and the engine springs to life, ready to head out on search and rescue. She’s had more than a bottle of wine, she can’t drive home. I slam the truck into gear and peel out of the car park, heading in the direction Jenna will have taken to walk the three miles back to Folquay.

  I spot her walking along a pavement-less country lane; the full beam of the headlights catches her first, struggling in her high heels, and wearing nothing but a knee length grey dress. I pull up next to her, and lower the passenger window.

  She turns to see the car, but looks away as soon as she’s realises it’s me, flipping me her middle finger.

  “Jenna, get in the car.”

  “Fuck off, Deacon. I'm capable of walking.”

  She trips in a hole in the road and wobbles in her heels. I slam on the breaks but she rights herself; I trail along next to her, ready to reach out and pull her into the truck if she slips again.

  “Stop being ridiculous. It’s raining and it’s dangerous.”

  A car beeps and overtakes me, the driver shouting something out of his window, which I ignore.

  “There’s an explanation for everything. Please, just let me get you home safe.”

  “There’s always an explanation with people like you, Deacon Reid.”

  “Jenna, just stop!”

  She halts, shocked by the tone of my voice and I stop the car, turning on my hazards so we don’t end up a tangled mess in the road. She stands with her arms folded, the rain water dripping from her hair, and the dress that clings to her soaked body.

  “Just get in the car.”

  “Fine.” She snaps, and climbs in slamming the door shut.

  “Thank you.”

  I continue along the road, the silent tension closing in on us.

  “Jenna, I-“

  “I don’t want to hear it. What you do with your life has nothing to do with me.”

  “That’s bullshit.” I pull my jumper off the back seat, throw it on her lap, and crank up the heating.

  She throws the jumper to her feet and before I can open my mouth to say something like ‘you’ll catch pneumonia’, she pulls her dress over head. I swerve as my eyes take in the wonder that is Jenna in nothing but her black, lacy and barely-there underwear. I gasp when she reaches behind her to undo her bra and grip the wheel as it lands next to my leg. All I can do is will my eyes to stay on the road.

  “Just keep driving.”

  “Jesus, Jenna.” I curse, my jeans suddenly unbearably tight, as she pulls the jumper on and shifts to pull it to her knees.

  “It’s just a body. Clearly you’ve seen your fair share of them.”

  Yeah, but none that give me the reaction she just did. She slips her hand under the jumper and slides her underwear down her legs, joining her soaked pile of clothes next to the bag of our rapidly cooling dinner. Christ. I think I’m going to combust right here in my truck. Suddenly I’m hot, too hot. I pull at the collar of my shirt, trying to get some air to my burning body, and take some deep breaths to calm my racing heart. All the years of remembering Jenna and the way she looked in her jeans and college jumper, or the pyjamas she used to wear when we’d lay in bed and watch movies has now been replaced by the image of her curves in the flesh - her soft, olive skin wet and naked in my truck. I’ll never be able to get in this car again without seeing her body in that passenger seat.

  At the t-junction at the end of the road where I know I’m supposed to take a left to take her back home, I take a right.

  “Where are we going?” She asks, scraping her wet hair back into a messy pile on the top of her head.

  “Back to mine. You can't go home to your parents dressed like that.”

  “Yes I can. I don’t want to go to your house. Take me home.”

  “No! You need to hear me out. I brought the dinner from the restaurant. We’ll go eat, you can dry off and I’ll take you home.”

  “I don’t understand you. Why have you made it your mission to prove yourself to me? I saw with my own eyes, you like to take advantage of women. If that’s the way you choose to live your life, that’s fine. What does it have to do with me?”

  “Everything!” I grip the wheel with force I didn’t know I had, “It has everything to do with you!”

  I pull into my driveway, and park between the BMW and the 4x4. I grab the food and Jenna’s wet clothes and climb out, needing a few seconds to myself. I’m frustrated to hell because all I want is to repair what I broke. I want to tell her everything over and over until she listens. I want her to let me in. I want my best friend back.

  After all these years, she still gets me, waiting a minute before following me. I leave her in the living area and go to the kitchen to plate up dinner.

  I tip the food out onto the plates, wondering why she doesn’t eat potatoes. It’s another thing that has changed. I can’t see her making a bet with me to see who could eat the most doughnuts now, like we used to do in college. I always won, of course, but she put up a damn good fight. I grab a bottle of wine and two glasses, and go back into the living room. Jenna’s standing at the French doors and looking out into the darkness. I see her looking at me in the reflection in the glass, with an expression I can't read.

  I don’t know if she’s angry, if she’s calmed down, or if she really just doesn’t want to be here. I worry that she’s cold as a single drop of rainwater falls from her silky hair and absorbs into my jumper. The atmosphere that always consumes me when I’m close to her takes over and I join her at the doors, prepared to talk to her reflection if she won't look at me.

  “I just want to look after you.”

  “I don’t need looking after.” She matches the volume of my voice as her eyes trail from my feet to my eyes.

  Jenna turns and walks to the coffee table, pulling up two beanbags from by the fire and sits at the table. I join her, still unsure of how I’m supposed to approach her; my brain is scrambled in that addictive way it always is when I’m around her and I can't remember how to
read women or decipher their mixed messages. We used to sit like this when we were in uni; Jenna’s dorm was too small for a table and chairs, and I bought her some bean bags so she didn’t have to eat off her lap.

  “Why didn’t you want potatoes?” I ask.

  “I don’t eat them.”

  “Since when?”

  “It’s a habit. Kip and I don’t eat carbs at home.”

  “You live together?”

  The thought of them living together, of Kip getting to see Jenna relaxed and at home, sitting together as we are now sharing a bottle of wine and laughing together makes me see red, angry enough to need to go outside. I shift restlessly, waiting for her response and as she looks down and plays with her food, there’s a long silence. I don’t know why. Either they live together or they don’t.

  “He wants us to. But we settle for staying at each other places.”

  “You don’t want to live with him?” I try to hide my relief.

  Jenna on the other hand, looks unfazed. I have no idea what she’s thinking.

  “How’s the steak?” She asks. She doesn’t want to talk about it.

  I nod my answer and we eat in silence. I finish before her, consuming half my cow in record time so I can watch her eat. There’s something mesmerising about watching her; I can't explain it, so I settle for drinking my wine leaning back on the sofa, and watching her savour each mouthful. She closes her eyes and moans in appreciation as she enjoys her dinner. She’s driving me crazy.

  “So, explain the girls to me then.” She asks when she's finished, and makes me jump. She drags her bean bag next to mine, bending her knee so it brushes against my thigh. My skin burns through my jeans, but I sit statue still, not wanting to break the only physical contact she’s allowed me.

  “Why?”

  “You brought me here to hear you out. Here I am, and I’m listening.”

  “Uh...”

  I hadn’t thought the explanation through; I didn’t think she would actually want to know. She’s looking at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, waits.

  “There’s just three. Was. It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking and since Dad died no one has said anything to me about being an arse. Until you came back. The look of disgust in your eyes just got me.”

  “But...why?”

  I take both lips between my teeth and cock my eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I get that,” she says sarcastically, “but why not just find a girlfriend?”

  “They all had...traits. None of them had them all, so I kept all three. A mix of what I needed.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  Of course she would misunderstand. But how can I tell her that they all had the traits of her that I wanted, that I needed? The only person who has everything I need is the woman sitting next to me, shaking her head as if I’m some sort of predator.

  “I’m not explaining it properly.” I stutter, afraid to blow another opportunity with her.

  “No. You’re not doing yourself any favours.” She leans up on her leg, inches away from my face, “So it’s a specific something you need in a woman. And the only way you can have everything you need is by having more than one?”

  “That pretty much covers it.”

  “So,” she reaches behind her, arching her back and grabs her glass. I watch as she sits up slowly and drains the rest of her wine, “what are these traits?”

  It takes a while to compose myself after that show. Jenna is flexible; it’s thrown me completely. And now she’s playing with the rim of her wineglass, rolling it along her bottom lip, teasing.

  “I can't tell you.” I finally answer.

  “But what is it you need? Someone who you can teach? Someone who can teach you?” She shakes her head, as if she knows the answer to that one, “Someone good with their hands and their mouth? Someone experimental?”

  “Jenna, there isn’t a checklist. It’s either there or it’s not. I can't explain it to you, or them, because I can't explain it to myself.”

  She nods, pursing her lips.

  “So have you ever experimented to find out?”

  I shake my head, confused beyond ultimate confusion. I don’t know why she’s asking about it. It’s clear what she thinks so I don’t know why she’s so interested in something she despises. I reach for the wine while I think of what to say next, but Jenna holds me back with one of her arms across my chest. I look at her to see her brown eyes burning. In one swift move she presses her palms to my chest and I gasp as she shifts so she’s straddling me.

  I open my mouth to speak, but she silences me by pressing her lips to mine, and it takes me milliseconds to give in. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t care. The subtle smell of her, flowers and vanilla, has my nerve endings on red alert. She holds my face in her hands and rewards me with licks of her tongue against mine. The urge to throw her to the floor and have my way with her is unbearable, but as I grab her hips she smacks them away with her hands and pulls away from me.

  “No touching yet.” Is all she says and her mouth is on me again, on my neck and then the skin exposed by the open buttons of my shirt. My chest is heaving with want as she runs her tongue through my chest hair and I close my eyes, laying my head back on the sofa.

  “You like it gentle?” She asks against my skin, I have to fight a shiver as the vibrations from her raspy voice surge through my body.

  “Yeah.” I nod, my mouth dry.

  She sits up, pressing her weight down onto my throbbing cock, and rips open my shirt. I lift my head and open my eyes in time to see the buttons fly across the room, and a devilish grin spread across her face. She bends down, her hair falling around her face and bites my shoulder, working her way back up to my neck with gentle licks and insanity-inducing nips. I shiver as she breathes in my ear, pulling it gently between her teeth, and moan as she captures my bottom lip, biting down before dipping her tongue in my mouth. God, she can kiss. She’s like a drug, sending me on a high I can't comprehend, and my body is screaming at me to do something. I move my hands to her hips again, but she grabs them and raises them, putting them behind my head.

  “You’ll get your turn. You like it rough?” She asks as she scrapes her nails down my chest. My body convulses and I groan.

  “God, Jenna.”

  “Binary answer, Mr. Businessman.”

  “You’re driving me crazy.” How am I supposed to remember what a binary answer is?

  “Yes or no?” She looks up at me through long lashes; she knows exactly what she’s doing.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you like it when I take control?”

  Do I? This feels better than anything I can remember, but I’d do anything to touch her, to make her watch me as I do.

  “Yes, no. Yeah,” I gasp, as she grinds herself on me, and I try desperately to stay in control of my body. She continues to move her hips, so painfully seductive, releasing a moan as she works on undoing my belt.

  “Jenna.”

  “Yes?” She looks up at me, her eyes full of lust, and the sound of my zipper is all that accompanies our heavy breathing.

  “My turn.” I growl, grip her waist and before she has a chance to stop me or say a word, I push her onto the rug and settle between her legs.

  “That’s the first one for the checklist.” She breathes, as I work on her neck. She’s trying to sound indifferent. I just don’t know why.

  “Fuck the checklist, Jenna,” This isn’t about the checklist, it’s about Jenna and me, me and Jenna. Us. Finally.

  “You like to be in control.”

  I shut her up by crashing my lips hungrily to her mouth, and stroking my tongue over hers.

  She moans and I savour her, tasting of wine, and lemons, and Jenna. How I remember her tasting that night on the beach when I could have said something to make sure we had nights like this every night since then. I run my hands down her body, still swathed in my jumper, reach down for her ankles and bring them to the bottom of my back, wrapping her legs around my wa
ist and drawing her body closer to mine. I lift us both easily, and Jenna grips my shoulders as I ascend the stairs.

  I stop at the wall, pressing her back against it, and run my hands from her ankles up her legs again. I love the feel of her smooth skin beneath my touch. I pull back and look down to where our hips are joined; my hands continue their journey and reach material at the top of her legs.

  She’s wearing a pair of my boxers, hanging loosely from her hips. I groan at the sight and press my forehead to hers.

  “There was some folded washing. I took advantage,” She shrugs.

  “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She pulls me back to her lips and I continue to my bedroom, devouring her mouth as I lose control. Wrapping one arm around her I pull the sheets to the end of the bed and throw Jenna on it. I take a few seconds committing this sight to memory; Jenna with her dark waves splashed across the pillow and my jumper hitched up, revealing a taut golden stomach that I’m dying to taste.

  Kneeling between her legs, I take the bottom of the jumper in both hands and lean down to kiss her stomach, trailing kisses up her waist and along her ribs, feeling her tense and quiver beneath me. Jenna’s words might tell me this is nothing more than a test, but her sighs and moans and the ragged breathing escaping her parted lips speak volumes. I kneel back and pull her towards me; she complies silently, her eyes burning a chocolate fire of need. I roughly pull the jumper over her head, not paying attention to where it lands because I’m stunned; Jenna in nothing but my boxer briefs.

  I hold on to the back of her neck before she can lie back down. We’re inches apart and I can feel her warm breath against my skin, heavy and waiting, anticipating and hungry.

  “What now?” She asks, her voice low and husky and sexy as fuck.

  I put my index finger to her mouth and run it along her parted lips. She captures it in her teeth and my breath hitches

  Ignoring her question I take one of her breasts in my hand, stroking my thumb over her hardened nipple and feeling it tighten further. Jenna bites her bottom lip, gasping and throwing her head back when I squeeze gently and lower my head to taste her.