Jay
Jay could tell he’d unnerved her. That pedestal that Laya loved so much was shaking and she was perilously perched on top, hanging on for dear life. He’d rocked her pretty little perfect world and he was so far from being done. Well-aware of that he was about to cross every single line that encircled the acceptable. He never would have reacted the same way with another woman. What the hell is it about her that brings out the beast in me?
He knew what it was. It was because she was absolutely flawless. She was so far above him and she knew it and he wasn’t used to it. He hadn’t met a woman in a very long time that didn’t fall all over him. The fact that she stood up to him fearlessly, that her eyes blazed fire and determination even though he could tell she was unnerved and maybe even a little afraid… it was sexy as hell. He didn’t want to be attracted to her, but he couldn’t help himself. He had eyes and she had balls of steel and it made a guy sit up and take notice.
“What are you talking about?” She repeated. She had the audacity to be annoyed. Annoyed, after she was the one who got him fired.
“I’m talking about this.” He pressed in close, daring, shocking. His body heated painfully as a zing of electricity shot through his bloodstream. He could smell her, he was so close. She was wearing the same scent that clung to that damn car of hers when he’d got in it.
He dared to reach out and slowly drag his fingers up her leg. He started at her knee and kept trailing up her thigh. It was far too perfect that she’d chosen to wear a pencil skirt with a slit up the side. She quaked under his touch for a second. The shiver that raced up her leg and into his hand was undeniable.
Her eyes flew to his face. She slapped his hand away and tried to take a swing at him, but he anticipated the move. He caught her wrist in midair and held her effortlessly. Her bones were so tiny, her skin so smooth and soft she was like satin or velvet. No, she’s far better than either of those. She’s like clouds. Like the whisper of a gentle breeze. And I’m fucking ridiculous.
Jay meant to shake Laya’s composure completely. He wanted to toy with her, to intimidate her just a little, to mess with her head and probably her feelings as well. He didn’t expect the straight jolt of wicked need that washed over him. It was like being plunged into freezing water.
He’d been with so many women over the years, he’d basically stopped noticing them. He’d stopped reacting, stopped feeling. He acted on autopilot most of the time. That little innocent leg brush was more erotic than years and years’ worth of the messing around he’d done. That little touch shifted his entire world.
Stunned, he realized she was staring at him, shock and anger flooding her features. He was supposed to have the upper hand. He wanted to make her feel pretty damn bad about what happened with his job. Instead, his plan was backfiring on him big time.
“You have some nerve! What makes you think you can just come in here and confront me and do… do that?” Laya’s eyes blazed with the level of her rage. He’d ruffled her feathers alright. Too bad she’d ruffled his too. He felt like she was under his skin, moving there, prickling, creeping into areas he hadn’t felt come to life in a very long time. Areas he’d never felt come to life.
“Well, a normal woman would just take her keys and get lost. She wouldn’t go complain to the shop manager like a spoiled brat about guys just being guys. Or are guys in your neighborhood not like that? Let me guess, they save the asshole nature for after the wedding vows.”
“You guys were worse than animals. Someone had to say something. Yes, I could have just walked away, but then the next person and the next person and the next person who came would be victimized by you and it’s not right. I’m a person. I have feelings. What you say matters. What you say hurts. Or have you never thought of that?”
Laya stared at him and he stared right back. The truth was, he actually never thought that what he said and did was of any consequence. With any of the women he’d been with. He always thought it was just for fun, a one night thing. The pleasure was always mutual, he made sure of that. He just never thought about what anyone thought or felt after.
“You have never thought about it, have you?”
“It was just shop banter. People know that. Wherever you come from, you can go right back. You’re a princess. Why bring your fucking car down to the shop anyway? Anyone with half a brain would realize that our shop didn’t have the tools to work on a car like that. Have you ever stopped to consider that driving cars that are worth more than most people’s living spaces is hurtful? That it's a huge fuck you to the entire world? If you don’t want to be a target, you shouldn’t flaunt yourself. Or maybe you want the attention. You drive like you do. You dress like you do. You even walk like you do. If you don’t want people to stare and make jokes, why not try a little damn subtlety?”
“I… I don’t flaunt it!”
“Alright. So driving that car down the street every single day isn’t flaunting it? Carrying around a ten thousand dollar handbag isn’t flaunting it? Walking around made up like you’ve been at the salon the entire day isn’t flaunting it?”
“I don’t have to apologize for the fact that my family is wealthy.”
“I’m just saying, if you didn’t want people to talk, you would have brought your car to a shop that specialized in them. I had to take it there anyway, since we couldn’t work on it. The manager you complained to never filled you in on that, did he? He was a lying little weasel and you looked him straight in the face, knowing full well what you were going to say would cost me my job.”
“I said you cost yourself your job, you Neanderthal.”
“Why are you even here right now?”
“Because you- you tricked me! You made an appointment with my agent!”
“No, I mean why are you here? Why are you working? You obviously have more money that most people make in a lifetime. Why work for paltry amounts taking shit jobs here and there? Is that your pathetic attempt at having what you call a career or are you just messing around here and there so that you can say that your life isn’t completely useless?”
“You don’t know anything about my life!” Laya was fuming. Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. If Jay thought she was blazing fire before, he was mistaken. She was absolutely furious now and damn, was it ever a sight to behold. He found her anger exciting and he let himself feel the full height of it. It was a straight shot of adrenaline right to the chest.
“No, I wouldn’t. I certainly wouldn’t know about having everything handed to me. I wouldn’t know anything about walking around completely entitled. I wouldn’t expect the world to worship me. I wouldn’t flaunt myself around and when I got the attention that I was craving, go and whine to the nearest person available. I wouldn’t try and sabotage people who make an honest living.”
“Honest? I don’t care about what kind of living you make. I do care that what you said was deplorable.”
“Deplorable, hey? That’s a mighty big word.”
“Here’s a big word for you too. Fuck off and leave me alone or I’ll make you sorry that you didn’t.”
“Threats. I like it. Shows that you have some spunk after all.” He could tell that she was flustered and he was glad. It might not give him his job back, but at least he’d leave her with something to think about.
“I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, especially not you. Now, please, get out of the way and let me leave.”
“Politeness now? I’ve never been in your way, sweetheart. If you wanted to leave, you always could.” He didn’t move. Instead he crossed his arms over the wall of his chest. It was hard to be intimidating when she was nearly as tall as he was. In those black shiny heels and her pencil skirt and a white blouse, she looked like she was ready for work as some executive secretary. He cut that train of thought off right at the start. He couldn’t let himself imagine what she’d look like bent over a desk, that skirt rucked up around her waist.
“You- you blocked my way when I tried-” she shook her head. “N
ever mind. I’m going to leave and I’m going to do you a favor and forget this ever happened.”
“A favor?” He laughed. “Thanks a lot sweetheart, but I don’t need any of your favors unless it involves you naked in my bed.”
Her lips parted and she stared at him. “In your bed?” she repeated, stunned. “That would be the absolute last place I would ever be. What do they say, about it takes one to know one? You accused me of being full of myself, but you’re the most conceited male pig I’ve met in my entire life. You think you can just look at a woman and she’ll agree to go to bed with you? You think you’re hot shit with the ladies. You said I deserved what you said? Well, then you definitely deserved to lose your job. Think of it as some long overdue payback from the female variety. And it’s true. Payback is definitely a bitch.”
With a flip of her long blonde hair, Laya bent and picked up the forgotten duffel and garment bag that had fallen to the floor when she’d heard him approach. She straightened and stalked past him. He felt the rush of air as she walked by. Her tantalizing scent trailed in her wake. He turned and watched her leave, admiring the shape of her ass, the sway of her hips, the delicious, long, shapely legs.
He’d seen the last of her and good riddance.
At least, he tried to tell himself it was good. The ache in his groin and the roaring longing that threatened to send him to his knees right there on the dirty concrete, said otherwise.
Chapter 7
Thorns
Laya
Though the accusations Jay leveled at her about being raised a spoiled princess who was eager to show off her flashy wealth were completely false, or at least, mostly false, his words still stung. They rang through her head like it was an empty room, his voice resounding off the stark white walls of her mind.
His words stuck her like thorns. Laya bristled well into the night. Sleep was impossible. Finally around two in the morning, after lying in her bed for hours, she threw back the blankets and crept downstairs.
In the kitchen, which was as huge and sprawling as the rest of the house, she quietly heated the kettle and made herself a cup of chamomile tea. The night was as hot and sticky as the rest of the day. The central air in the house was cold. In her short shorts and a tank, Laya was freezing. She edged closer to the huge bay window at the front of the living room. It had a sitting bench that she used to love as a kid. Later, as a teen, she’d curl up with a book or sometimes sit and just watch traffic go by.
She curled into the small alcove, careful not to spill her hot cup of tea. She wasn’t a kid anymore, but the window was still her favorite spot. There wasn’t much going on in the neighborhood after three in the morning. In a few short hours she knew people would be up walking their dogs, pushing strollers, jogging by in skimpy little sports bras and skin tight athletic pants.
Laya took a tentative sip of her tea. It was hot, but not hot enough to burn. She closed her eyes and sighed in satisfaction. Tea was like a ritual to her. It was calming, meditative, relaxing. She’d never manned up and been adult enough to enjoy coffee, but she’d never met a cup of tea that she didn’t like.
The nameless mechanic who had been on her mind for the past couple days now had a name. She didn’t want to admit just how much he’d been there, his image ingrained in her brain. She’d never seen a man who was so… so virile.
She shook her head, nearly spilling her tea. She carefully stilled and watched the liquid sloshing around in the white mug. It was a pineapple with a gold handle. Probably something her mother had just bought on one of her most recent shopping trips.
She couldn’t help that her family had money. Why was she to blame if she had a nice car and lived in a nice house? None of it was truly hers. She knew she’d been born extremely lucky. She knew that she had opportunities given to her that other people didn’t have. She might be like her mom and shop too much, but she was also like her mom and cared about what was going on in the community and in the wider world around them.
Since she was a child, her mother had taken her on more volunteer trips than she could count. Her mom truly believed in what she did, it wasn’t just an act because she thought giving back was the right thing to do. Her dad worked hard for the money he’d made. He hadn’t come from much. He was a good lawyer who fought hard for his clients. The money he made was well earned. He wanted to give his wife and his daughter the things he didn’t have growing up.
Laya also knew she was spoiled because she was her parent’s only child. She almost hadn’t been born at all. Her mom had a terrible pregnancy with more than half of it being bed rest and afterwards, both of her parents agreed that was it. Her mother couldn’t risk the health of another unborn child and her own in the process.
Jay’s words stung all the more for the fact that Laya didn’t actually think they were true. She’d never tried to brag about what she had. She’d never tried to flaunt her parent’s money. She’d never actually thought that the presents her mom and dad bought her could be viewed as flashy.
Why did I never consider that my purse was too expensive or my car cost more than what some people can hope to make in a lifetime?
She hadn’t actually known, until Jay informed her. It was just the car her dad picked out and gifted her on her twenty-first birthday. She’d been driving it for three years and never once realized how much it cost or what it would look like to people on the other side.
I don’t act like a snob though.
Jay didn’t know a thing about her. It ruffled her feathers that he’d got under her skin and he refused to leave. His face flashed through her mind like a film roll stuck on one frame. She wished it would just burn up in the projector of her memory and vanish forever.
She knew it wouldn’t happen.
Frustrated, Laya took a long sip of tea. It was barely warm. She gulped back a few mouthfuls, not wanting to waste what she’d poured.
He doesn’t know me. He just makes assumptions. He’s an asshole.
She didn’t normally swear. Never in front of her mother. Once, maybe in front of her father. Rarely with her friends. She didn’t even think in foul language. Since she’d set eyes on Jay, her thoughts had been on a downward spiral. She’d even spoken to him harshly. She never would have used that tone with anyone else she knew.
He’s already a bad influence and I don’t even know him.
No one would have known that she wasn’t familiar with him if they’d witnessed that brazen touch in the warehouse. Her body heated just thinking about it. The hand holding her mug began to tremble and little ripples appeared at the surface of her tea.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, willing herself not to think about it. It was that touch that had kept her awake for the entire night. Laying there in her bed, in the silent blackness, it was impossible to stop thinking about the heat of his fingers, the rough callouses, the grease and oil stains embedded in the cracks of his skin. She recalled the shape of his fingers in stark detail, the square, blunt ends, the long tapered digits with the rough lump that was the knuckle, the short nails that were black underneath though they were kept trimmed short.
He’d touched her like he meant it. He touched her like he knew her body, knew exactly what it took to set off a raging storm inside of her. He touched her like he wanted her.
Of course he’d been playing with her, proving some lewd point.
The worst part was that he hadn’t been wrong.
She’d seen him at that shop and she had wanted him. It flustered her. It angered her. She wasn’t impressed with the things he said about her, but underneath the foul language and the crude statements, she sensed that there was a depth of longing she couldn’t fathom.
Even in the garage, when their gazes locked, she recognized the hunger in his eyes. It was the same hunger echoed deep in the pit of her stomach, in the secret place between her legs, in the blackest part of her heart.
She’d only ever dated guys her parents approved of. The trust fund, old money, law schoo
l, doctor to be types. They were all the same. Boring. Bland. Stuck up.
They were the kind looking for a trophy wife, a woman to stick up on the shelf. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life being looked on as little more than an object. She didn’t want the most meaningful part of her day to be planning some gala or social outing. She didn’t want to be part of tennis clubs or learn how to sail. She didn’t want to serve fancy dinners or go to parties with people she couldn’t stand.
Her parents had carefully avoided that kind of scene. Though her mom hadn’t worked since she’d had Laya, she was active in her volunteer work. She made it her calling, helping others. She had a good heart, a selfless soul, that she’d tried to pass onto he daughter.
Laya wanted to make something of her life. Modeling wasn’t it. It was just a filler. She knew it, even though she’d told her parents that she was trying to make it. It wasn’t her calling. She enjoyed it, but it was ultimately meaningless to her. She almost wished her time was up and her dad’s ultimatum was a reality.
Jay’s face annoyingly butted into her thoughts again. I shouldn’t have got him fired. She tried to convince herself that the loss of his job was what was really bothering her. She shouldn’t have done it. It wasn’t right. It was vengeful and the worst part was, they both knew it. He hadn’t been that far off in what he’d said about her reacting purely on instinct. She’d been uncomfortable in what she felt. No, she’d been completely shocked, swept away, mystified, stunned… there wasn’t quite a word to describe the depth of feeling that plagued her since she’d set eyes on Jay.
She’d done it to prove a point to herself as much as she’d done it to make a statement to him.
Though he was crass and obviously thought he was god’s gift to females all around the world, probably the worst kind of womanizer, clearly as blue collar as they came, it didn’t make her feel good that she’d cost him a job he obviously enjoyed and was good at it. The fact that he’d arrange a meeting to call her on her bullshit disturbed her.
Forbidden Soulmates_A Steamy Hot Revenge Romance Page 4