I’m on the verge of falling asleep, when my phone rings. Glancing down, my eyes squint as I try to read the name on the screen. Scott. Crap. What does he want?
“Hello,” I answer, tentatively.
“Elle,” his deep voice makes me cringe. “I wanted to let you know you’re off the hook. I don’t want you to be my girlfriend.”
“No, I don’t mind.” I raise my voice, panicked he’s going to go after Josh.
“I’m moving out of town, indefinitely.”
“What about Josh?” I can’t help but ask. I need to know what he plans to do.
“I won’t do anything to your boy. You have my word,” he says. His voice sounds muffled, like his mouth is full.
“Why do you sound weird?”
“I had an accident.”
“Oh.” What am I supposed to say to that? I’m not sorry my...Josh kicked your ass? I’m probably a horrible person for not caring.
“Take care, Elle. Good luck with everything.” He ends the call and I’m left staring at the phone in my hand. What the hell prompted that? Is the world ending and I’m unaware?
Placing my phone on the nightstand, I cuddle under my blanket. For the first time in over two weeks, I feel hopeful.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Josh
After I left Elle’s apartment I immediately returned to my place. Dropping my keys on the kitchen counter, I head into my bathroom. I need to shower off the rest of Scott’s blood and try to put the events of this night behind me.
The shower gets me clean, the whiskey helps me to forget. Five shots in, I realize I need to finish my paintings for the art competition and since I saw the person who inspires me more than any other, I’m going to take advantage of it.
Tearing the t-shirt I put on over my head, I drop it on the hardwood floor and walk over to the two canvases I’ve been pouring all my emotions into. Standing in my black boxer briefs, I pick up a clean brush and study the paintings.
Letting my love for Elle guide me, I add thin strokes where they’re needed and swirls of paint in others. I don’t over think what I’m doing, instead, I allow my paintbrush to go where the emotion takes it.
By the time I’m done, I’m dripping with sweat. Wiping my forehead on my forearm, I step back and do my best to peer at my finished works of art with a fresh set of eyes. I smile, proudly. I love what I’ve created.
* * *
Wiping my damp palms on the pants of my brand new black suit, I pace back and forth along the narrow hallway near the gallery front door. I don’t know which has me more keyed up - wondering if Elle will show or how my art will rank in the competition. I know which one is more important to me - Elle. Hands down. She’s all I think about. I’ve missed her more than she’d believe, but I was busy working and finalizing my painting for the competition. I also wanted to give her a chance to really miss me so she’ll never put us through this again.
Every time a new guest walks in the door, my heart leaps in my chest with the hope it will be Elle’s face I see. Each time I realize it’s not her, my stomach sinks to the floor. She has to come. I need her to be here with me and share in this moment.
Loosening the knot of my tie, I relieve the pressure on my neck. I dislike wearing ties of any kind. The last time I was this dressed up was at Janny and Kyle’s wedding. I sure made great use of my bowtie that night. I’d love to have the same outcome, with my gray and black patterned tie.
Now that the big day is here, I’m relieved it’s all going to be over one way or the other after tonight. I’m ready to know my fate where she’s concerned. Will we be together or not? Will she be back in my arms? Once she is, I’m never letting her go again.
Winning the competition would only be a bonus. If it goes my way, that’s great, if not then at least I could potentially gain new clients for Canvas and for my artwork. As much as I’d love the business, I can’t worry about that right now. All I can think about is Elle and if she’ll be brave enough to show up. Does she love me as much as I love her? Enough to take a chance on me? There’s nothing I won’t do to have her. If she doesn’t show up tonight, then I’m going to hunt her down and make her see reason.
“Josh.” My name is husky falling from her lips. Her voice sends chills down my spine and has my chest tightening in reaction. Turning around, I nervously pull the cuffs of my gray dress shirt down before meeting her eyes.
“Elle...I’m glad you came.” I mechanically get the words out.
“Congratulations. I wouldn’t miss it, Josh. I’m so proud of you.” She wrings her hands together like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She’s as anxious as I am. Seeing her anxiety is strangely comforting to me. It’s nice to know I’m not the only churned up inside about seeing each other.
We’re acting like acquaintances, not lovers and I don’t like it one bit. It’s awkward and frustrating. Gripping her hand in mine, I wordlessly tug her along with me as I make my way to the art exhibit. Her heels tap against the shiny hardwood floors pattering as we weave in and out through the crowd. She follows my lead closely and before we know it, we’re standing in front of my two paintings. She gasps when she first sees them. Watching her eyes trek over every inch of the canvases has my chest pounding. The first one I titled Despair. It’s a painting depicting the night I saved that girl from her abusive boyfriend my freshman year at Boston University. In the painting, her cheek is pressed against the brick building and her eyes are squeezed shut. A trickle of blood trails down the side of her face from her forehead to her cheek. Her expression is filled with fear and heartache.
The second painting is Elle, lying on her back on a paint stained canvas. She’s bare from the waist up, her hands raised, shielding her nipples with her forearms. It’s a submissive pose. This painting was inspired by the night she let me paint her naked body and make love to her. I’ve titled this one Trust, because she wholeheartedly bared herself to me in more ways than one, when it must have been near impossible for her to do so.
What if she doesn’t like them?
Or even worse; what if she hates them?
Art is subjective. What one person likes another might not. Watching her face, I’m not sure what kind of emotion she’s experiencing. She’s got a great poker face and I can’t read her.
“You know, I never did thank you for saving me that night. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted it to be over. That’s why I ran off.” She licks her lower lip. “I never thought I’d see you again. When Janny introduced us, I prayed you wouldn’t make the connection.”
“I couldn’t forget your face, Elle.” My fingertips trace over the pair of matching freckles above her right eyebrow, that I first noticed on that infamous night. “I went back to my dorm room and sketched you for hours. You were part of me from that day on. When I met you through Janny, I was relieved you were okay. I’d always wondered.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention that night? I’ve always wondered, but I didn’t want to bring it up in case you didn’t realize it was me. I never wanted you to see me as weak.”
“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I knew if I mentioned it, you would be awkward around me and that’s the last thing I wanted.” My hand slides down to cup her cheek. “I’ve never thought of you as weak, Elle. Not for a single second.” My hands lower to gently clasp her upper arms. “The tattoo on my wrist was inspired by that night. She walks in beauty, like the night is a line from a famous Lord Byron poem and it’s always reminded me of you. You were beautiful to me then and you’re even more so now.”
“You saved me from Scott that night and now you saved me from him again.” Her eyes are narrowed in concentration as she studies my face for a reaction.
Getting credit isn’t necessary, I only want her. “All I’m going to say is thank you. Thank you for saving me during my darkest times.”
“I’ll always save you, Elle. If you’ll let me.”
“I know you will.” She steps forward, closing the distance b
etween us. Her hands raise, landing on my chest. She slides them up and down over the soft material of my shirt. “I’m sorry I allowed Scott to come between us. I should have told you what was going on and trusted that you’d find a way out of it.”
“I forgive you. You’re here now and that’s the most important thing.” I run the back of my fingers down her cheek.
“That’s not the most important thing.”
“It’s not?” I question, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope. The most important thing is that I love you.” She smiles at me.
I nod, tugging her closer in my arms. “That’s pretty damn important.” I smile. “I love you too.”
Her eyes widen. “You do?”
“You can’t tell? Look at these paintings. Can’t you see how beautiful and strong this woman is? She’s the bravest person I know.”
Tears fill her eyes and she chews on her bottom lip. “Do you really think I’m strong?”
“I do. You’ve been through so much and you still took a chance on us.”
“I’m only strong with you, Josh.” Her hands slide up to rest on my shoulders.
“That’s okay because you’re never going to be without me again. We can be strong together.” My head lowers and I run the tip of my nose over hers before brushing her lips with mine. Kissing the corner of her mouth, I sweep my lips back and forth over hers.
Her mouth forms a smile under mine. “What time does the reception start?”
“Ten minutes ago.” I grin.
“Josh,” she raises her voice and glances around wide eyed as she realizes it’s just the two of us left in the gallery. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I’m right where I want to be.”
“I am too, but I really want to see you walk up and get the award when you win.”
“You want to ogle my ass, right?” I question with a wink.
“You know it.”
One month later
I didn’t end up winning the art competition, but I did gain a lot of new business from it. I’ve been commissioned to do some paintings for a few different businesses around the city and another one for the Massachusetts State House. Canvas has been so busy and with the new demands for my artwork, I’ve had to hire another artist. Caleb, came on board a few weeks ago and he fits right in with Sean and me. Tatum and he are another story. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it was instant dislike for both of them. Judging from the heated stares they throw at each other, they’ll probably end up fucking it out of their systems. It should be interesting to say the least.
I’m glad it’s them and not Elle and me. We’re in such a great place now. Our relationship is solid as a rock. I asked her to move in with me almost as soon as we got back together. I didn’t want to waste another moment being apart. We both have busy work schedules and living together ensures we get to spend as much time together as possible.
Sundays are my favorite day of the week now, because we’re both off for the whole day. We can laze around in bed for most of the morning and then the two of us cook breakfast together. I always fry the bacon so she won’t get splattered with grease and she makes the eggs.
“Any of that bacon done yet?” she asks, using me as a shield as she peers cautiously around my arm.
“I might have a piece or two. How bad do you want it? What’s it worth to you?”
She moves beside me and taps her lip with the tip of her index finger. “I guess it depends on how many pieces I get.” She shrugs. “One piece is worth a peck on the lips. For two I’d add some tongue.”
My lips part in a smile. She’s so fucking adorable. “What do I get if I give you four pieces?” I ask, wiggling my brows. “That’s gotta be worth at least a tug or two.”
She glances down and smirks when she notices the semi in my basketball shorts. Reaching over she plucks a piece of bacon from the plate on the counter, biting it in half. She feeds me the second part and when we’ve both finished chewing she raises up on her toes to press a greasy kiss on my lips.
“Is this your way of telling me you’d rather eat breakfast?” I question, my hands resting on the curves of her hips.
“Well, we’re talking about bacon and you know how strongly I feel about it.”
“I do.” I say, nodding my head. “I think if you had to choose between bacon and me, you’d pick bacon.”
She presses her lips together and looks up to the side like she’s pondering the pros and cons of both. “I’d pick you, but it would be close.” She sniggers.
Shutting off the burners, I turn to her. “Is that so?” I ask, staring down into her playful amber eyes.
“I think I need you to remind me why you’re better than bacon.”
Picking her up, I throw her over my shoulder and stalk toward our bedroom.
She squeals, “Josh,” when I throw her on the bed.
Climbing onto the mattress, I crawl between her open thighs, tearing her panties down her legs. Raising the white t-shirt of mine she prefers to kick around in, I tug it over her head, leaving her naked for my eyes to feast on. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Elle. You take my breath away.”
“Bacon doesn’t talk,” she sassily replies.
Shoving her legs to her chest, I part her lips with my fingers and slick my tongue from the back of her pussy up to her clit. Sucking it between my lips, I flick my tongue against it and she moans. “Bacon can’t do this,” I grumble against the engorged flesh before my mouth resumes its torture.
“Bacon can make me moan,” she tells me, her voice hoarse with passion.
Shoving down my shorts while I work her pussy with my tongue, her head whips side to side on the pillow. Lost in the pleasure I’m driving her to, she doesn’t notice me lining up before I enter her in one hard thrust.
She cries out and I immediately thrust again, one hand busy rubbing on her clit. Slamming into her over and over, I keep up the pace until I drive her to a screaming orgasm. Falling down onto her, my forehead resting on her shoulder, our harsh breaths break through the peaceful morning.
“Bacon can’t do that,” I smirk, proudly.
Epilogue
Josh
One Year Later
“Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you to,” I order.
She immediately complies, a small grin playing on the edges of her lips. “I like the sound of this.”
I grab the folded white drop cloth from the shelf and move to the middle of my studio. Spreading it out neatly, my eyes quickly flick to Elle. I need to make sure she’s not peeking. “No looking.” I don’t want her to ruin the surprise.
Glancing down, I double check that the cloth is how I want it before I return to her side. Taking her hand, I say, “open your eyes.”
She does as I ask, gasping when she sees what’s painted on the cloth. Will you marry me? is in large blue letters at the top and I painted a pic of her and I standing under a curved wooden arch that says happily ever after.
“Elle Johnson,” I say, dropping to one knee. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Staring up at her, I smile at her dumbfounded expression. How did she not see this coming? We’ve been officially living together since the week after the art competition and everything has been fantastic. Why prolong the inevitable? I’m making it official before she can change her mind.
“Yes,” she screams. “I will. Hell yes,” she squeals, dropping to her knees in front of me. She throws her arms around me before our lips lock and we fall to the drop cloth, mouths connected passionately together. We both break apart laughing when we land on our sides. She rolls over to her back, one final giggle slipping out. Propping myself up on an elbow, I lean over her. Raising her left hand, I slide on the diamond ring I chose and then kiss the back of her hand.
“Josh, it’s beautiful.” She stares up at her finger, twisting her hand from side to side, watching it sparkle.
“And they lived happily ever after,” I say with a wink.
&nbs
p; “No,” she says shaking her head. “They lived and loved, painting the canvas of their life and creating a one of a kind masterpiece.” With those words, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling my mouth to hers for what we do best - a little silent communication.
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading The Complete Quake Series Box Set. These were the first books I published and though my writing has grown since then, and I've branched out to other genres, this series will always be special to me.
Some of you have been with me since I published Quake, my first book, and some of you are new readers, but I couldn't do this without your continued support. Thank you for reading my words and recommending them to others. I'm so blessed to be able to do something that I love doing.
About the Author
Jacob Chance grew up in New England and still lives there today. He’s a martial artist, a football fan, a practical joker and junk food lover.
All his books are available on Amazon
THE QUAKE SERIES
QUAKE | QUIVER | DELVE | TIED | DELUDE | QUAKE DUET | DELVE DUET | THE COMPLETE QUAKE SERIES
THE BOSTON TERRIERS FOOTBALL SERIES
PENALTY | DRIVE | COACH | TACKLE | JOCK | SCORE
THE BOSTON TERRIERS HOCKEY SERIES
CHECKED | ICED | BLOCKED
The Complete Quake Series Page 69