by Amity Cross
“Yes.”
I tugged her towel away, flinging it across the room, and before I could take her breasts in my hands, her fingernails sank into the skin of my ass, and she moved against me. Sucking in a sharp breath of air between my teeth, I grabbed her around the waist and turned her around, bending her over the countertop. She couldn’t touch me, but I could touch her wherever I wanted.
“You used me, led me on. You walked out on me after...” I almost choked, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Letting my fingers curl into her wet hair, I tugged her head back. “You destroyed me. I’m nothing to you. You made me question everything. I don’t know who I hate more. You or me.”
I felt her entire body stiffen beneath me, and I should’ve felt bad, I probably would when I had time to cool down, but right now, this shit needed to be said. It had to come out before it chewed me up and spat me out.
Sliding between her ass cheeks, she let out a long moan, quaking against me. “Do you want this?” I asked again. “I won’t take it back.”
“If this is what it takes, then I’ll do it,” she said, her voice muffled by her position. “I’ll do anything to show you how I feel. I need you to fuck me so you can see what you do to me. If it’s a punishment, then I’ll take it. Gladly.”
My fingers curled tighter in her hair as I pressed her harder into the bench, wrestling with what my body wanted and what my head was telling me.
“Do it,” she said, rubbing her ass against me.
Fumbling for my bag, I pulled out a condom, and before I could even begin to think clearly, I slid inside her with a hard thrust, skin slapping against skin. A delicious moan came from under me, bringing back memories of that night back in LA. This felt just as intense, but it was sharpened with something else I didn’t want to acknowledge. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. And it didn’t mean a fucking thing.
Not stopping to let her become accustomed to the feel of me inside her, I pulled back and thrust again and again, chasing nothing but my own release. I didn’t care if she finished. I didn’t care about pleasing her. She wanted this, and I was taking it.
She went to move her hands beneath to rub her clit, but I grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back, not even slowing. Each time we came together, something was drawn out of me. Who the fuck knew, right? This was just dirty, disgusting revenge sex.
She began to tighten around me as her orgasm smashed into her, but I didn’t care. I kept thrusting, wanting to come and come until my brain exploded. Pleasure, pain...revenge. I came hard, my mind foggy and overwhelmed. My hands fell onto the bench either side of her as my entire body quaked in the aftermath of my release. As I started to come back to myself, I pulled out sharply, and an exhausted whimper escaped Jessie’s lips.
It was raw, powerful, intense...seismic. And so fucking wrong on so many levels.
Dumping the condom in the bin, I stormed out into the room, scrambling to put some clothes on. Underwear, jeans, dragging a T-shirt over my head.
“Dee?”
She was fucking crying.
I yanked my boots on and bolted for the door, my fingers curling around the car keys.
“Don’t run away,” she pleaded.
I didn’t look up as I slammed the door behind me and stormed out into the night.
Standing out in the middle of the dark lot, I drew in a shaky breath. Endless stars shone overhead, lights of passing semi-trailers flying down the highway in the distance. Fucking disgusted with myself was what I was. I’d never done something so vindictive in my entire life.
The door didn’t open behind me, and I was glad. I couldn’t face her after that.
Unlocking the car, I slid into the passenger seat and fumbled for the lever to tilt it back. I’d left my jacket in here earlier, and I tugged it over myself. There was no way in hell I was going back in there tonight or ever. Tomorrow, I would drive her home, and that would finally be the end of it.
But even as I made the decision, I knew that it would never be over. She was ingrained into every sense I had like a stain you just couldn’t get out. Even after she’d walked out on me, I was still in that place. The one where I’d fallen for Jessie Ware, and I hated myself for it. But that was my problem. I just dove in headfirst and damn the consequences. Now I was paying for it.
And for the first time since this thing had started, I let myself cry.
Jerking awake, I realized someone had been knocking on the glass by my head. Rubbing the condensation away, I knew it was Jessie.
The steely gray morning light haloed around her tiny frame, her arms wrapped tight around herself. She looked tired like she hadn’t slept at all. That made two of us.
Unlocking the door, I climbed out and stretched. “We’re going,” I said, avoiding her eyes. “Get your stuff.”
I went back into the room, collected my things, and dumped it all in the back of the car, not waiting for her to say anything. When I came back from dropping the key into the motel reception, she was getting into the passenger side.
She was wearing big sunglasses that covered her eyes, but her hair was messy and pulled back haphazardly, and her body was angled away toward the window. I turned the key in the ignition, not looking forward to the next six or so hours that I would be alone with her after last night. The whole situation had imploded in the most dramatic fashion, and now it was irreparable. I didn’t want to acknowledge what I’d done even though I could still feel her around me. My skin still reeked of dirty fucking revenge sex.
Grinding my teeth, I pulled out onto the highway, merging with the early morning traffic. We would get to New York by dinnertime, and then this whole mess would be done. Over. Kaput.
Couldn’t fucking wait.
Chapter 22
Jessie
I sat in the car next to Dee, my gaze firmly locked on the passing countryside out of my window.
The air was so thick it felt hard to breathe. I could still feel where he’d been. There was a dull ache between my legs, and focusing on it made me squirm in my seat. I’d relished the feeling of him inside me, but to him, it was just a punishment. It wasn’t the connection I’d wanted. Desperation had driven me to do something incredibly stupid yet again.
He’d said I’d destroyed him.
Nothing I could have done would have prepared me for those words. How can you fix the smashed heart of the man you loved? I’d been trying for days now, and maybe that was the problem. I didn’t have weeks or months to make it right. I had hours.
Hate. Destruction. He thought I’d used him. He lost who he was because of me. He thought he meant nothing to me. He was everything. My everything.
I felt a tear sliding down my cheek, and I brushed it away angrily. I was forever doing the wrong thing even though I thought it was right at the time. Maybe I was one of those people who was born whole. You know, the screwed-up notion of soul mates? That you were born in half and then spend your life searching for the piece that fits. Some people settled for an ill match in the hope that it worked, the lucky ones find their perfect fit. The leftovers were already whole in the first place.
Maybe I was whole. That was what the universe was trying to tell me every time I tried to find my perfect half, and hurting them was a sign that it wasn’t meant for me.
I kept hurting Dee despite my best intentions, and it broke my heart.
I wanted to love him so much, but it wasn’t enough unless he loved me back. Even after everything, I couldn’t imagine living life without Dee Cosgrove. Any future was bleak without him in it.
Chapter 23
Dee
I was disgusted with myself.
I’d never done something so spiteful in my entire life, and I wished I could take it back. I was the nice guy. I was a protector. I wasn’t some kind of sadist. Jessie had humiliated me and smashed my heart to pieces, but what I did was worse. To top things off, I didn’t have the guts to apologize. Looked like we didn’t deserve one another.
When the New York
skyline finally appeared in the distance, it was a relief. Jessie punched her address into the GPS that I hadn’t bothered to turn on since I rented the car, so I didn’t have to ask her for directions. When we inevitably sat in traffic, I thought about what I was going to do next. I planned to find somewhere to crash for the night, return the car, and get on the next flight outta Dodge. Where to? I wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Maybe I should just book a flight back to Melbourne and be done with America.
When I finally pulled up in front of an old warehouse, which had been converted into apartments, in a small pocket of Brooklyn, I cut the engine and sat waiting. Should I say goodbye? Should I say anything? It was probably past the time for apologies.
But Jessie didn’t move. “Come up,” she said. “I have a computer you can use to book a flight. At least let me do that for you.”
So she’d figured out my plan. Wasn’t half obvious.
I left my stuff locked in the back out of sight and followed her inside and up the stairs. There was no lift, so we trudged up three flights to her apartment.
Despite myself, I wondered what her place was like. If she had a roommate or lived alone in a four-by-two shoebox. I’d thought about it before, back in LA, wondering what CDs she had, if she had any books, what photos she had on the wall. When she unlocked the door and walked in, dumping her bag just inside, the sound echoed into the darkness, and I knew it was a cavern. It had that musty smell from being locked up for the past week, so I knew she lived alone. Reluctantly, I stepped inside, my gaze on the floor. I’d come this far.
The sound of keys dropping into glass echoed around the dark apartment.
“I have a parking permit to put on the dash,” she said. “To stop the car from getting towed.”
I grunted, not able to formulate a response. I jumped when I felt her fingers circle around mine, prying the car keys out of my hand.
“I’ll be back. The laptop is on the coffee table.” Before she went, she flipped the screen open, bringing it to life. “All yours.”
Her gaze didn’t meet mine, but she shouldn’t have bothered. I didn’t really want to look at her, either. The front door closed, and I was alone in her space. It smelled like her.
The apartment was a sizeable studio. A one-room cavern that used to be a warehouse, but it was more like a studio palace. I knew enough about New York to know that it was expensive. And interns didn’t get paid.
At one end, there was a kitchen, and at the other end was her bed. I tried not to look there, but it was impossible. One of those square bookshelves separated the living area from the sleeping, and it was crammed full of books, records, and CDs. Under the window was a beat-up stereo covered in various band stickers, all of them punk. The rest of the apartment was furnished with stuff that looked like it was picked up from the side of the road. A brown leather couch that had seen better days sat in the middle, clothes were crammed on racks along the wall of the ‘bedroom,’ and a worn Turkish rug covered most of the polished concrete floors.
Banks of windows took up one whole side and were covered with heavy, gray blackout curtains, and the wall above was made from exposed brickwork that had been sandblasted and rendered. It was very…hipster. I guess that was Brooklyn’s MO.
I looked at the clunky laptop and the obviously secondhand furniture, and it didn’t add up. She couldn’t earn that much working at a cafe surely. I didn’t have any secrets, but Jessie obviously did. All this time she’d spent trying to crawl back, trying to mend things, and she still wasn’t truthful? I don’t know why I was so worked up about it. Maybe she just liked the vintage thrift store look. Maybe she was a closet hipster. Who the hell cared.
I ran a finger along the books on the shelf, seeing that most of them were music related. A Rolling Stones bio, that Nikki Sixx book, big heavy hardbacks about The Clash and the Sex Pistols. A book about Seattle grunge. Then there was a bunch of classics like Jane Austin and Franz Kafka, then what looked like an unopened copy of Twilight. After our road trip to hell, I still didn’t know who she was.
The front door opened and closed, but I didn’t turn around from the bookcase. I didn’t know what the hell it looked like, me going through her stuff, but at least I wasn’t rifling through her underwear drawer. That would’ve been creepy.
I listened to her move across the apartment and sweep the curtains open all the way, letting in the harsh sunlight. “Have you found anything?”
I knew she was referring to the laptop. “Haven’t looked yet.”
I didn’t want to turn around because I would have to look at her.
To my annoyance, she stood right next to me and pulled out a CD, handing it to me. “That was the first one I brought. I was about fourteen, I guess.”
I looked down at the CD and read the title. The Clash, Combat Rock. “Stop,” I whispered.
“Stop what?” she asked, her voice thin.
“Stop trying to fix it.”
Her breathing hitched, and it was all I could do not to comfort her. This whole thing was fucked up. The only thing I could think of asking her right then was the one thing I didn’t want to know.
“Why did you really leave me?”
She was silent for so long I didn’t think she was going to answer. I was more than ready to walk out when she said, “I was afraid.”
My fists clenched at my sides. “Afraid of what? That someone could treat you with respect? That someone could have feelings for you?”
“Look at me, Dee.”
“I can’t.”
“Look at me.”
I turned my back, running a hand over my face, blood boiling. Goddamn fucking Jessie. She made my blood boil like the fucking lava pits of Hades.
“Look at me.”
I spun on my heel and glared at her with the full force of my anger, but when I saw the tears falling from her eyes, something snapped. I crossed the room in three strides and pushed her back into the wall, then kissed her, devouring, obliterating. My hands were in her hair, then sliding along her waist and underneath her top before cupping her ass, grinding her against me. And she kissed me back just as forcefully, her fingernails biting into my neck, her tongue against mine.
I tore myself away and took a step back, my split lip stinging, and for ages, the only sound that broke the silence was our labored breathing.
“I want you, Dee.” Jessie was the first one to make a move. “All of you. Every part. I don’t want you to leave.”
I looked into her big brown eyes and wondered if I could ever let it go. That feeling of rejection.
“What do I have to do to make this right?” Her eyes were pleading with me to say something.
“What are you afraid of?”
Her eyes widened, and she sank back against the wall.
“Answer me, Jessie,” I said. “That’s the only thing stopping me from walking outta here and not looking back.”
“You’re with the band…” she whispered. “I don’t mix with the bands.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Dee…”
“I could’ve got you fired or worse,” I began.
“But you didn’t…”
“Because it was real for me.”
“And it wasn’t for me?” she yelled, her eyes sparkling with tears again.
“You made that clear when you ran away.”
“You terrify me, Dee.” Her words cut through me like a knife. “This whole thing terrifies me. The feelings I have for you… Don’t go. Please.”
I stood there frozen to the spot and so fucking confused. I didn’t want to leave, but I wanted to save myself from going through more shit. I wanted to stay and fuck her senseless and tell her that...
“I quit Galaxy. I quit to come and find you.”
My gaze snapped up to hers. “What?”
“I quit the label. Georgie wouldn’t let me go, so I quit.”
I shook my head.
“I quit my dream to find you. To win you back, don’t you see?”
She was in love with me. The realization hit me so hard I wasn’t sure I knew how to breathe anymore. So that was what this crazy thing was.
“Dee?”
Her voice snapped me out of it, and I stepped into her again, covering her mouth with mine, teasing her lips with my tongue. She let out a whimper as my hands cupped her face, fingers tangling in her mousy blonde hair.
“I’m staying,” I murmured between kisses, and she sank against me in relief, exhaustion, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was letting the fire consume me once and for all.
Chapter 24
Dee
“I just wanted you to see me,” Jessie whispered against my lips.
Pulling back, I ran a thumb across her cheek, brushing away her tears. “I see you.” A tired sigh escaped her lips. “I can be a stubborn bastard, but I see you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her hands pressing into my waist. “I’m sorry I left you.”
“I know.”
“It was a mistake.”
“I forgive you,” I said again. “I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt like hell, but I forgive you. I can’t fight it anymore.”
Holding her like I’d wanted to ever since she knocked on that motel room door in Denver, I ran my fingers through her hair, savoring the feel of our bodies pressed together. The attraction between us was what I thought would destroy me, but it was what made us epic. It wasn’t just her body and the things it could do to me that tipped the scales, it was her being. Her ability to overcome her fear and face it head on. The drive she had toward her work. The way she saw the little things and found beauty in them. I didn’t know if she even realized how amazing she really was. How stupid was I to have fought it for so long?
“I’m sorry, too,” I said before I chickened out again. We’d both done shit things, and she’d just taken it on the chin. An apology was the least I owed her.
“For what?”