by Jordan Marie
“I didn’t realize this was the kind of man you wanted in your life, Jess. It’s so disappointing. You deserve better,” Troy says, giving Allen and me both a look of thinly disguised hate. He turns to walk away and I find myself screaming.
“My name is Jess-ie!”
Troy looks over his shoulder and this time the hate is crystal clear—so much so that it turns my stomach. He doesn’t reply, though, just turns away and keeps walking.
I watch him for a few minutes while I try to suck in my emotions. Allen turns to me, his broad chest filling my vison as his hand circles against the side of my neck. I feel his touch and my pulse leaps, but I don’t move. My eyes concentrate on the faded black color of the jacket he’s wearing. He applies pressure and his thumb moves under my chin as he tilts my head so I’m forced to look at him.
His face is closed off. I can’t tell what he’s thinking for the life of me.
“Hi,” I whisper when it seems the silence has gone on too long.
I get an immediate reward when Allen’s face goes from closed off to a smile…
A really beautiful smile.
6
Allen
“I knew the moment I saw you that you were going to be trouble,” I mumble to myself.
“What?” she asks, her eyes round with surprise.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you shouldn’t be traveling so late at night alone?”
“I wasn’t traveling, Allen. I was closing my shop,” she argues, annoyance bleeding through her voice.
“You’re cute when you’re pissed off, Mouse.”
“Again with that nickname.”
“You really have something against it?”
“Women would rather be called sexy, babe, beautiful, heck, even sugar.”
“Sugar?” I ask, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice.
“That would be preferable to being called a rodent.”
“Some people love mice so much they keep them as pets.”
“And some feed them to snakes for dinner,” she huffs and that’s the moment I lose it.
I laugh, even when I try not to. Jessie couldn’t understand what a gift that is. She has no idea and I can see—even while laughing—that she doesn’t like it. She’s offended by it. She doesn’t understand the miracle she’s given me.
“Would you really prefer I call you sugar?”
Her nose scrunches up and that looks so cute I need to resist the urge to kiss her.
“Is that my only other option?” she grumbles and again… I laugh.
“Trouble,” I answer her, shaking my head.
“What?”
“You are major trouble, Jessie.”
“That’s not nice,” she says.
“It’s still very true. Where are you parked?”
“At my house,” she answers.
“Excuse me?”
“I live a few streets down, so I just walk to my shop.”
“You walk…”
“Yeah.”
“You walk to work, alone.”
“I believe that’s what I said.”
“What happens if you’re attacked? If some whack-job jumps out of the shadows and grabs you?”
“This is Saint Augustine, Allen. That’s not likely to happen.”
“It’s a highly populated vacation area. It’s more likely to happen here than anywhere,” I growl, not believing that she could be so naïve.
“I’ve lived here my whole life and it hasn’t happened yet.” She says this while walking down the street. I take the few steps to catch up with her, grab her upper arm and pull her back around to face me.
“You’re not walking home, Jessie.”
“Yes, I am. I’ve had a long day and thanks to that idiot Troy and now you, a stressful one. I’m going home, I’m going to take a shower so hot my skin will melt, then I’m going to cuddle on my couch with Chloe.”
“Chloe?” I ask, wondering if I misread the signs and she’s into women, or maybe both. I’m not sure how I feel about that. If I give a woman my cock, I don’t want to worry about if she’d rather have pussy.
“My cat,” she mumbles, yanking her arm out of my hold and starting to walk away again.
I find myself falling into step beside her. I’m grinning, thinking at least if she’s cuddling up on the couch with a pussy, this is one I can compete with.
“Tell me about Troy.”
“Why are you smiling like that?” she asks, and it’s only then I realize the grin is still on my face.
“I was realizing that if you’re in love with pussy at least it’s one I can compete with.”
“I don’t understand…” she says, her face confused, wrinkles on her forehead as she replays my words in her head. I’ve never been around a woman so easy to read, but with Jessie, I know exactly what’s going on with one look. That’s confirmed when she blushes and comprehension dawns on her—shining like a flashlight in the black of night.
“Oh,” she gasps and I’m pretty sure she couldn’t say anything else, because she opens her mouth, then closes it. Opens it again and snaps it shut yet again. The look on her face makes me… laugh. “You weren’t this annoying the first time we met,” she huffs.
“What was I?”
“I wouldn’t go all cocky. I doubt you could compete with Chloe. She’s special,” Jessie answers, completely ignoring my question.
“I’ll make a note,” I tell her.
We walk for a bit without talking. It’s not an awkward silence. It’s actually kind of enjoyable, but I smile when I hear her voice again. It has a tone that makes me feel… alive.
“Why are you here?” she asks and that’s when the laughter stops. I push my fingers through my hair, stop walking and she seems to catch the change in my mood and stops too. She stands there looking up at me and that venom inside of me that stays deep inside—hidden—begins swirling. I beat it down, but in the face of Jessie’s innocence, it’s harder. I should stay away from her. I’ve tried for three days, but she’s been there… on my mind… teasing me… tempting me. I should walk away. I need to. Jessie doesn’t need someone like me in her life. I’m not fit to touch her. I don’t know a fuck of a lot, but I know she deserves better than an ex-junkie. I’m clean. I’ve been clean for years, but that doesn’t erase my past…or what drove me to use the drugs.
“Allen?” she asks softly, her voice changing. That’s when I realize I am staring at her, but not really seeing her.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I tell her honestly.
“But you are,” she whispers.
“I shouldn’t be,” I repeat again.
Jessie reaches up and the tips of her fingers drag through my beard. The touch is gentle, but it’s the look in her eyes that I actually feel. It’s almost physical and it seeps into the darkest parts of me, calming the darkness like nothing else has.
“Come upstairs and have coffee with me. We’ll talk,” she says. I look beyond her to the building in front of us and the purple painted door on the side. I want to say no.
I don’t.
“Okay,” I tell her, knowing better, but unable to stop myself.
7
Jessie
“You shouldn’t invite strangers into your home,” Allen murmurs as we make it to the top of the stairs and I unlock the door to my apartment.
“I didn’t. I invited you,” I answer with a shrug, opening the door and walking in. I stand there holding the door open as Allen looks in, clearly unsure about coming inside.
“You don’t know me. I could be a rapist or a murderer.”
“Fair enough. Have you murdered anyone?”
“No one that didn’t deserve it,” he answers and his face looks extremely solemn.
That wasn’t the answer I was expecting and I can tell it hits a nerve for him—maybe even reminding him of something he doesn’t like. I should be scared. His answer should terrify me, but for some reason it doesn’t.
“Come inside, Allen,”
I tell him, leaning on the door. He looks at me intently. For a minute I think he’s going to turn me down and leave. I’m preparing for it, but he crosses the threshold, surprising me.
I close the door as he passes me and I lean against it as I try and get my thoughts in order.
“You have a nice place, Jessie.”
I turn to look at him. He’s so incredibly tall and broad that he fills my small living room. He also looks completely out of place in a room with pale green walls and pink flowery accents and white furniture. I almost want to giggle, but Allen is still lost in his thoughts, I can tell, and he looks unhappy and I don’t like that.
“It’s small and honestly the furniture was here when I moved in, but it’s comfortable,” I explain while I walk into the adjoining kitchen.
“It’s sweet without being overrun with color. It’s peaceful. It fits you.”
“You make me sound so exciting, Allen. I’m starting to understand why you call me Mouse now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being peaceful, Jessie. It’s something most would kill to have in their lives.”
I think about his words while I fix the coffeemaker. I hear a chair scrape against the floor and look over to see Allen pulling out a stool from the bar. He sits down, but he looks extremely uncomfortable.
“You don’t look at peace right now, Allen.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles, rubbing the side of his face as he looks at me.
“Why not?”
“I’m… We’re never going to work.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, blinking. I feel like he slapped me; that’s how dramatically his words jar me.
“Jessie, you and I are too different.”
“I don’t remember us ever dating for you to determine anything about me.”
“There’s a pull between us. You can’t deny that. I know you felt it that day in your shop,” he says.
“This always happens to me,” I grumble under my breath.
“What happens?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I hadn’t planned on him hearing me, but it doesn’t really matter.
“What happens?” he asks again, stressing the words.
“Crazy men,” I mutter with a sigh.
“What?”
“I attract crazy men.”
“Jessie—”
“Allen, I really like you.”
“I—”
“And I mean, I really like you. I like you in a I’m-thinking-of-sneaking-into-my-bedroom-and-putting-on-my-good-underwear kind of way.”
I watch as my words register and, despite the worries clogging his mind, he starts laughing.
“I prefer no underwear if you were wondering.”
“That would be good advice and maybe I would listen if you weren’t sitting at my table wishing you were anywhere else.”
“Jessie—”
“If you want to go, Allen, just go. But if you want to stay, how about I fix some dinner, we watch a movie and actually get to know each other before you decide we don’t even deserve a shot?”
“Trust me, Jessie. I’m only trying to protect you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” I answer.
“It’s too late to cook. I can take you out—”
“How about I order a pizza?”
He studies me and I’m pretty sure he wants to say no, but for whatever reason he nods his head in agreement.
I smile, really glad I won this battle—even if I’m not sure why.
8
Jessie
“Jessie.” Allen’s voice wakes me up.
My eyes open slowly and I look around. I’m on my sofa, lying against Allen’s side. His arms are around me and my head is on his chest. I close my eyes again and drink in the pleasure of being here—like this—with Allen. It’s been a perfect night. Well, it has been since he decided to stay. We talked, we held hands, ate pizza and watched a marathon of Bruce Willis movies.
“Hi,” I whisper, opening my eyes once again, but more slowly this time.
“Sleepyhead.” He smiles as his finger drags across my cheek. “I take it you’re not a Sixth Sense fan?”
He’s right… I’m not. I saw the outcome of that movie a mile off the first time I watched it. But I’m a very big fan of Allen. This might be the single best night of my life and he hasn’t even kissed me yet.
“I liked the Die Hard ones.” I grin. His finger slides back and forth, closer and closer to my mouth. When I smile his thumb rests on my lip. It brushes against the small opening where my lips meet. On instinct I open, letting the thumb push deeper in.
“You’re a dangerous woman, Jessie Hart,” Allen murmurs, his dark eyes staring at me so intently they shine, reminding me of liquid—hot, molten liquid.
I find myself licking the tip of his thumb. I don’t do it intentionally; I just can’t stop myself. I watch Allen’s face tighten, and he takes a breath that travels through him so noticeably I’m hypnotized at the way his chest moves. I bring my gaze back to his face and I can read the desire there.
Desire for me.
“Dangerous?” I ask, every nerve ending in my body feeling as if it is on fire.
“Very dangerous,” he responds. His thumb pushes deeper and I bite on the tip, my eyes never leaving his. “Dangerous to my peace of mind,” he says and then his thumb is gone and his hands latch onto my upper arms and he pulls me up farther along his body.
“Allen,” I gasp, just as his lips crash down on mine.
It’s an intense kiss that takes my breath away. He takes control of my mouth, devouring me. Our tongues tangle as if they’re warring with each other. His hand moves to my neck and he holds me in place, leaving me unable to pull away even if I wanted to—which I don’t. It’s a kiss like I’ve never experienced. It steals my breath and my ability to do anything other than to submit to his demands. I do that willingly. Without my realizing it, my hands go to his back, my nails digging in, and he groans into my mouth. I swallow it down, matching it with my own. His fingers move down to the curve of my breast. I feel him squeeze it, his fingers brushing against my nipple, and I whimper because it feels so good, but I wish I could feel it without my shirt and bra in the way.
Allen pulls away and I cry out in disappointment. I open my eyes, dragging air into my lungs. His hand tightens almost painfully on my breast.
“You’re so dangerous,” he groans.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Allen,” I tell him because something in his eyes compels me to assure him of that.
“You could hurt me more than anyone ever has, and that’s admitting to more than you could ever guess, Jessie.”
“Allen—”
“I better get home.”
“What if I asked you to stay?”
“I want to,” he answers, and joy begins to spread through me—right before he ends it. “But I won’t.”
“Allen—”
“Not tonight, sweetheart. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I don’t want you to go,” I tell him, completely honest.
“And I don’t want to, but I’m going to.”
“I—”
“There’s things you don’t know, Jessie.”
“So tell me,” I urge him.
“If this keeps going in the direction it is, I will, Mouse. I promise,” he says, his fingers combing through my hair.
“I really like you, Allen.” My words make his lips twitch so that he almost smiles. I want him to smile and suddenly I need him to… because I can see sadness in his eyes. I want that sadness gone. “I like you so much, I don’t even mind your calling me a rodent.”
That does it. He does smile and this one helps to lift the sadness from his gaze and for tonight that feels like a victory. With Allen, I’m beginning to realize being with him might be a war… which means victories—no matter how small—are a good thing.
9
Allen
“You’ve found her, haven’t you?”
That’s not unusual. My job is to watch my sister and nephew constantly, to make sure they’re always safe. I’m grateful that Roman has developed enough trust in me to give me this job. When I look at them sometimes my heart hurts in my damn chest. I don’t deserve to still have Ana in my life. I blamed her for so much. I pushed her away, I put her life in danger… Fuck.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” I lie. I know exactly what Roman is talking about.
Jessie.
Roman’s right. I have found the one. She hit my life like a keg of dynamite the first time I saw her. I was dazzled by the display while the resounding boom was still ringing in my ears. She’s the one. She’s most definitely the one. The one thing Roman doesn’t understand is…
I’m not him.
“Bullshit,” Roman says, shaking the ice in his almost empty scotch. “Don’t fuck with me, Allen. I’ve built my life on reading people.”
“I can’t have her, Roman.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I’m not you, okay? I am who I am and nothing is going to change my past,” I growl.
I watch as Ana plays with my nephew’s boats and they’re laughing. Ana’s so happy. She deserves all this and more. I’m here because of her, but there’s not one thing about this life that I deserve—not after the things I’ve done.
“You’re right,” Roman says with such finality I jerk my head around. I mean, I knew what I was saying, but I at least expected the bastard to try and talk me out of it.
“I—”
“Your past is fucked up. So was mine. You weren’t alone in that room that day exacting your revenge on that bastard. I was right there with you and, Allen, you’ve worked with me enough to know exactly how I deal with men who cross me,” Roman says and I rub the back of my neck, working on the tension gathering there. “You know exactly what I expect from the men who work for me to protect my family. I’ve never been good enough for Ana or my son. I never will be.”