by S. Ann Cole
Now hearing it repeated verbally, I had to admit it did sounded a bit cold and distant. But, well, what else did he want me to say?
“I don’t see how I offended you, JK.”
“‘Sorry I couldn’t stay longer.’”
“I couldn’t.”
“You could.”
Backed in a corner with no plausible lie, I shifted my gaze to my desert Clarks again. “You wanted me to stay?”
No answer came from him, but I knew it was because the question was a stupid one. Of course he wanted me to stay with him! Or else he wouldn’t have taken offense to my abrupt leave.
“I’ve missed you,” I confessed to my Clarks.
A finger nestled under my chin and elevated it so I was looking at him. “What exactly have you missed, Sassy?”
His expression was one of curiosity, test and confrontation, as though wondering what was there to miss about him when we were nothing to each other and spent little time together creating memories, or moments to miss.
There was nothing to answer with, because I, in truth, didn’t know what I missed. Except that I missed him. All of him. Him being a walking contradiction. His playing, his teasing, his eyes on me…as they were at that moment.
Those unique gold irises studied me. Sandy-brown waves of his silky hair suppressed by his cap, the visor created a light shadow over his face, lending him a brooding bad boy look. I itched to take off his cap and ruffle his hair until it bounced back into free, unsuppressed impeccability.
When he realized I was speech-impeded, unable to answer him, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and asked, “You did Twelfth Night in school, Sassy?”
“‘If music be the food of love, play on’,” I quoted.
Nodding, he asked, “What’s your take on Orsino and Olivia?”
Huh? “Um, I dunno…Orsino was obsessed and madly in love with Olivia. He…spent his time lying around daydreaming and fantasizing, listening to music and spewing poems about love, pining for Olivia. Often he would send Cesario to deliver his proclamations of his love for her…I…I don’t know…”
“And Cesario always failed to get through to Olivia, right?”
“Right.”
“And what did Orsino do about this so-called love and obsession himself?”
Was I in high school or something? “Nothing. Lay around and pine because he was obsessed with love, all things of and about love, and the concept of desire and need.”
“As a highly respected nobleman with a title, ‘Duke’ Orsino, what could he have done?”
“Gone to her himself and demanded her?”
I guess I answered correctly, because he leaned back in his chair and studied me for a moment before asking, “So, tell me, do you think he was really in love/obsessed with her, or did he just like the idea of being in love/obsessed with her?”
Tired of getting drilled, I rubbed my eyes and whined, “I don’t know, JK. I usually got C-D in all things Shakespeare.”
Maybe there was a point somewhere in all of this, something he was trying to tell me, but I was too hungry and knackered to rack my brain further about Shakespeare’s mindfuck of plays.
Leaning forward once more, he whispered with a steady air of confidence, as someone not fascinated with an idea, but with the real deal, “Let me tell you what I miss, Saskia: I miss those wide, passive, all-consuming grey eyes looking at me. I miss that puckered point on those perfect full lips. I miss how your nostrils flare, the way they turn bright red around the rims when you crave having me inside you. I miss those long lashes, how beautifully dark they are, the way they fan your cheeks when you sleep. I miss your silky smooth skin sliding against mine. I miss your raspy voice. I miss watching you dream about me, whispering my name in your sleep. I miss cuddling with you, laughing with you, teasing you, pissing you off. And most of all, I miss watching your heart.”
Holy crap.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I got out, “Watching my heart?”
“Yes,” he said definitively, leaning further over to me.
He pressed two fingers to the base of my neck where my collarbone parted, leaving that soft little dip.
“Right here,” he whispered. “I watch your heart right here. Your skin is so delicate, that whether your heart beats once or twice, skips a beat or pounds erratically, this little dip right here moves in sync. It’s fascinating. You’re a rare treat, Sassy.”
Lost for words, I stared back at him. Who knew he was so attentive to detail? So…aware? Half the time he seemed not to give a crap about anything. Yet now he was telling me he missed watching my heart? How the hell do I respond to that?
I fought to keep my breathing under control so my ‘heart’ wouldn’t rat on me. But it was pointless, because he would know I was trying to ‘hide’ my heart. Maybe I should start wearing scarfs. But then, my nostrils also ratted on me, so should I start wearing gas masks, too?
Jahleel dipped his head and chuckled lightly at his own private joke, then glanced back up at me. “You hungry?”
Oh, how bloody hungry I was. Raw. Rabid. “Yes.”
As he stood up from the chair, his eyes read mine, knowing damn well I wasn’t talking about food. “Gather your bearings, fair lady,” he joked, still with his secret humour. “Meet you outside.”
I watched his retreating form as he navigated through the room and spotted Derek’s assistant arch a brow at him. Right as he was about to pass by her, she scuttled to his side. She grabbed his bicep to stop him, speaking the words of a slut no doubt, fluttering her lashes at him.
Feeling eyes on me, I glanced over to Derek and found him watching me with a smirk. Indeed, I’d pretended I didn’t know Jahleel, then snapped at Derek for harbouring him on the set, next I was hyper-bloody-ventilating with him in a corner. Sure, anyone with half a brain would’ve figured it out.
With a roll of my eyes, I waved off Derek and looked back to Jahleel and the eager hoe.
Once Jahleel started his famous lip biting thing, I shot up from the chair and gathered my motherfucking bearings.
Chapter Sixteen
I met him outside the building.
Straddling a wicked green and black Ninja bike, motor running, he waited.
My ride was right behind him, Thomas holding the door open for me.
Mindful of the last rumour of me having a Russian boyfriend a couple of weeks ago when I kissed Chad publicly, I contemplated my choice of transportation, as rumours would only escalate if I hopped on Chad’s best friend bike and go…where?
Glancing around, I spotted one paparazzi. A stocky old baldy, camera raised to his face, snapping.
At the feel of a hand pressed into my back, urging me in Jahleel’s direction, I turned my head and to see Amanda. Making the decision for me, she snagged my duffel bag and hissed,”Stop trying to be perfect for Lion all the time. Get wild sometimes—like a superstar with tattoos and purple streaks would—and tell the world to sod off. We’re right behind you.”
She was gone before I could respond, jumping in the back of the Escalade. Thomas closed the door behind her, seemingly knowing I’d go with Jahleel despite my hesitation.
Dicking around on his phone, Jahleel waited with easy patience. He, too, knew I’d go with him in the end.
When I traversed over to him, he took the helmet and raised it above my head, warning, “Might feel a bit uncomfortable with that ponytail” before jerking it on.
The ponytail bump pressing against the cushy interior of the helmet was annoying, but not uncomfortable, so I gave him a thumbs-up as he watched me for signs of discomfort.
Understanding, he jerked his head to the side in a manner that meant ‘get on’.
Climbing astride the bike, I wrapped my arms around his middle, thighs pressed up against his, chest to his hard back, heart thudding just because it was him.
Jahleel revved the bike once, then turned his head to the side and asked over his shoulder, “You forgot for a minute, didn’t you?”
“Forgot what?” I asked, voice muffled through the helmet.
“That you belong here.”
“On the back of your bike?”
Revving once more, he replied, “And wrapped around me,” before zinging off down the main.
Although Jahleel didn’t ride as manically fast as the last time—probably so Thomas could keep tail of us—the ride was disappointingly short. In no time, he was careening onto a complex on Olympic Boulevard.
“A bowling alley?” I questioned once I was off the bike.
“Rented for the day,” he explained, kicking down the side stand before getting off.
“Is there food, at least? Because I don’t think these weak arms can afford swinging a bowling ball right now.”
“Sassy,” he said with a surprising amount of patience, “I know you’re hungry, I know you’re exhausted, I know you’re sexually frustrated. Yes, there’s food inside. No, you’re not here to bowl. You’re here to eat and relax…”
“And what about the sexual frustration part?”
He studied me for a beat, the corners of his mouth ratting on his fight to suppress a smile.
Looking at him now, hale and healthy, well-rested, well-fed, confidence intact, almost immortal, one would never believe a few weeks ago he was the complete opposite. Now, he looked untouchable, unflappable, every bit as drool-worthy as he’d been before I walked in on Mortal Jahleel.
And I loved him both ways.
Thomas pulled onto the complex just then, and Jahleel glanced over his shoulder at the vehicle, then back at me. “We can visit the sex toy shop afterward.” Tugging my ponytail, he jerked his head to the building. “C’mon.”
I wanted to tell him I had enough B.O.Bs to open my own toy shop and none of them worked. My fantasies were warped. But he was already walking a few paces ahead of me, leaving me to catch up.
When we entered the building together, I stopped dead.
Everyone from my circle was there, from Lion to Zane—eating, drinking, laughing. A mini-party.
Before I could start asking questions, Amanda came up next to me and kissed my cheek. “A stress-free get together. You deserve it.” Then she went off, slapping Twana on her bum and melding into the cheery chattering.
Turning to Jahleel, I arched up a brow. “You did this?”
He shrugged. “Manda called me first, then Lion. Said you’ve been workin’ straight with no breaks and was grumpy, miserable and snappin’ at everyone. And for some ungodly reason, they thought I should do something about it.”
Disappointment crept in as all the excitement seeped out. “So, you’re here, did this, because they asked you to, then, yeah?”
His gaze narrowed on me, flickered to the klatch of people, then back to me. “I’m here and did this, because I wanted to.”
Typical guy answer. I shook my head, refusing to even waste energy on answering to that, or even rolling my eyes.
The loud, unmistakable cackling of Amy and Jamie got my attention. They were raising their bottles of beers to me in salute.
After giving them a forced smile, I turned back to Jahleel. “Why are they here?”
Confusion clothed his features. “Aren’t they your friends?”
“You fucked both of them.”
Jahleel scraped his teeth over his bottom lip in irritation, cast a glance in the giggly sluts’ direction then back to me, head slanted to the side. “So?”
Moving in close to him so we were just a hair’s breadth apart, I tipped up on my toes, eyes almost levelling with his, and hissed, “Fuck. You.”
Pointing to the ground, Jahleel leaned in even closer, our noses almost touching. “I just marked an imaginary threshold. Bitchy Sassy doesn’t cross it, got that? Unless you want me to drag you into one those bathroom stalls and fuck you so hard, you won’t remember who or where the fuck you are when I’m done. Pain, roughness, humiliation, abandonment. I already warned you how I feel about bitchiness.”
The first time he said it, I thought it sounded hot, even contemplated being a bitch more often to see where it would get me with him. But now, recording his seriousness, I realized it wasn’t meant to sound hot, neither was he joking about it.
He honest-to-God didn’t like bitchiness.
I drew back. Lowering down from my tippy toes.
Congratulations to me, I’ve successfully dragged A-hole Jahleel to the surface, after things were going so well, I blew it all to hell.
In spite of that, I was pissed about being in the same room with women he fucked, so, maybe I didn’t really give a crap if he was irritated.
My eyes roamed around the vibrant room, searching for Chad. Jahleel wouldn’t invite him after what happened, would he? Of course not.
When I saw no sign of the irresistible part-Russian, I figured it was safe to make my revenge play. “I do hope you invited Chad. It’s been a while…”
At the same time those words left me, I felt the air shift as the presence of someone came up behind me.
Jahleel shot me a look I couldn’t read, nodded at the person behind me and grounded out, “Enjoy,” before stalking off.
“What are you doing?”
At the voice, I spun around and bumped right into Chad.
Shite. Jahleel had invited him.
Chad was dashing as usual, semi-formally dressed. Dark denim, white V-neck T-shirt and a single-button grey blazer, securely buttoned, fitting his narrow build to utter perfection. A rosary chain around his neck. His rock star haircut was no more, as his dirty blonde hair had grown out. Unclipped, untrimmed, tucked behind his ears.
Dangit.
“What?” I asked, once I was done drinking him in.
“You’re using my name to piss him off,” he said without acrimony. “Not cool.”
“Fuck him,” I said, waving a dismissive hand.
“You did?”
“No.” I laughed nervously and smacked his shoulder. He caught my hand.
“But you want to?”
I looked at his hand holding mine, his artistic tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his blazer. A dust of blonde hair trailed from his wrist and faded out inches above his pinky finger, which had a gold snake ring wrapped around it.
That…hand.
Crap on crap, I was a mess.
“What I want,” I composed myself and tore my eyes away from his hand, “is some food in my stomach. Like, right now. I’m starved.”
“Well, then,” he said, smiling now. “Let’s get you fed.”
Pressing his palm flat on my lower back, he led me over to a large, rectangular, industrially-designed bar. The ongoing counter-top was laden with trays of pizza, barbecue ribs and wings, French fries, tacos, all the standard junk food.
Stomach rumbling at the sight, I grabbed a plate and loaded it up with everything, while Chad retrieved two bottles of Corona and popped them open.
Looking around, I opted for seats closest to where Jahleel lounged in the midst of my small but boisterous circle of people. Appearing unperturbed, he was relaxing next to Lion who chatted expressively about God knows what.
This was supposedly a stress relieving get together for me, but who the hell paid me any attention? No one. Except Chad.
I found a seat facing away from them, but close enough so I could overhear their conversation. Chad took the chair next to me, slightly turned so he partly faced them.
Once we were seated, I scooped up some avocado dip with a potato chip and crunched into it, probing around a mouthful, “Okay, spill it. What’s going on between you two?”
Face expressionless, Chad replied, “Pardon?”
Scooping up more avocado dip, I crunched again. “I don’t know you that well, but I do know you are precise, exact, far from impetuous. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have touched me so possessively without being sure where my feelings lie. You’re still not sure, yet you’re acting out of character. To prove a point to someone? That someone being JK?”
Taking a sip of his beer, he
watched me for a beat, one brow raised. “You’re right in that you don’t know me. Not many people do. And you obviously don’t know him, either. My brother and I, we respect each other. We don’t do the ‘prove a point’ thing. Whenever there’s a…let’s say, common interest, we allow nature to take its course.”
Pointing a French fry at him, I called him out, “That’s not what you’re doing right now and you know it.”
Chad dipped his head smiling to himself. Without warning, he snatched the French fry from my fingers and popped it into his mouth. “Okay, I admit. Right now, I’m fucking with nature.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “Trying to sway the wind a little in your direction?”
Dropping his forearms to his knees, he leaned over so dangerously close I could feel his breath on my lips, hot, with a fading scent of peppermint. “You kissed me,” he breathed out. “You. Kissed. Me.” His head shook once. “You should’ve just let me be. You shouldn’t have given me a taste. Because now, I want more.”
Breath trapped in my throat, I watched his lips, parted, pink, enticing, as I waited with eager hunger for him to kiss me. But he didn’t.
Even though my back was turned to Jahleel, somehow, I felt his eyes drilling pissed-off holes in the back of my head. But, to hell with him for being an insensitive bugger.
Forcing the trapped breath from my throat, I regained the ability to speak. “I think I need to get some food in me…before I pass out.”
Chad leaned back and waved a hand at the loaded plate. “Eat.”
The next second, his cell rang from inside his jacket pocket, and he eased it out to look at the screen. “Gotta take this. Be right back,” he muttered, as he got up and disappeared to a quiet corner.
Resisting the urge to look behind me, I dug into the plate of greasy junk food and perked up my ears to eavesdrop on the joyous chattering behind me.
Twana was gossiping about her sister’s boyfriend who was supposedly the biggest douche on the planet. Apparently the couple was going through therapy because he was closed off and erratic. Twana was convinced he had some dark past eating away at him.