“Listen, Vic. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Shoot.” She wasn’t sure she meant that in the fire away sense of the word either. More like oh, crap.
“Do you ever wonder about us?”
Not in the last few months, she hadn’t. But before that? Only every day. “What are you getting at, Graham?”
“You and me? We make sense, right?”
She froze, her glass suspended halfway to her mouth.
“I mean, we must because I always come back to you, don’t I?”
Sure. When it’s convenient for you.
When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I think it’s time we give in to the inevitable.”
“And the inevitable is…”
“That we belong together.”
Slowly, she set her glass down on the bar. “Graham, I don’t think you really want to be with me. I think maybe you’re just feeling lonely.”
“But Vic, we have history. We make sense.”
“Do we? Because it seems to me that if we made sense, we’d be together. But it never sticks.”
“I just don’t think I’ve been ready until now.”
“Really? Because you had no problem committing to Tabitha. You were ready for her a long time ago.” Seeing the hurt confusion on his face, she gentled her tone. “I don’t think you’ve ever had an issue with commitment, Graham. I think the issue was with me.”
His blue eyes widened. “Vic, that’s not true. You know I think you’re great.”
“A great friend, sure. But you and I both know that I’m not the girl for you.” She slid off the barstool.
“That’s not true.” He grabbed her arm when she started to walk away. “Victoria, I love you.”
There was no triumph in hearing his confession. Only sadness that it had taken her so long to see their relationship clearly. “No, you don’t. You like that I’ve always been there for you. I’m safe. Dependable. But you’re not in love with me. Sometimes I’m not sure you even like me.”
It was amazing, this clarity, this knowledge that all those years she’d secretly pined to be his one and only, she’d actually been better off without him. Graham didn’t love her. Not really. Not the way she wanted to be loved.
“Of course I like you.” The hurt in his voice tugged at her heart, but it didn’t change anything. “How can you think otherwise?”
She kept her tone gentle. “You hate my that’s-what-she-said jokes. You hate that I get competitive over board games. You don’t want to run with me because you hate that I’m faster—”
“Vic, you’re being silly. None of that shit really matters.”
“No, Graham. That’s the shit that matters most. I don’t want to be with someone who loves me in spite of those things. I want someone who appreciates me for those things. I want to be with someone who values me.”
“And you think Meadows values you?”
“I know he does.”
“Well, you might want to rethink that. If he valued you so much, would he have sent me out here to get you back?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I ran into him in the bathroom and asked him if it was serious between you two. And he basically gave me his blessing to pursue you. Does that sound like a guy who values you?”
Flopping back onto the stool, Victoria’s thoughts swirled and collided in her brain. She took a second to sort through the chaos. “What exactly did he say?”
“I asked him if he’d fight me for you, and he said you were a big girl, that you make your own choices.”
Choices. Oh, God.
It’d never been a secret how she’d felt. Jason knew Victoria had wanted Graham. And he was giving her the power to choose.
After years of tagging along after someone who’d held all the control in their relationship, Jason had done for her what Graham never had. He’d given her all the power. He’d stepped aside and let her decide what she wanted.
And she loved him all the more for it. Because how difficult must that have been for him—for the person who’d never belonged?
Jason had never been chosen. Preston’s mother had sent him back to Family Services. He’d run through a string of families and after his mother died, the distant relatives who’d adopted him had sent him off to boarding school. And if Victoria knew her man, he was fully expecting to be cast aside again.
She jumped off the stool again. “I have to go.”
“Go where?”
“I need to find him.” She needed to tell him that she chose him. That she would always choose him.
“He doesn’t love you, Vic.” Graham’s words pulled her up short. She stopped and turned.
“You don’t know that.”
“Has he ever said the words? Because I’m standing here, telling you that I love you. Has he ever said that?”
“No…not in so many words.” She raised her chin, trying to squash the doubts that rose up and took hold of her throat. She always had been good at seeing things that weren’t there, hadn’t she?
“So that’s it?” he asked. “You’re choosing him anyway? Over me?”
“Yes,” she said, trying for a confident tone she was no longer sure she felt. “I’m sorry, but I choose him.”
*
Jason held his breath, feeling like a total ass-hat for coming back. He knew—or at least he thought he’d known—what Victoria would say when Graham finally came up to scratch. And he’d wanted to be long gone when it happened too.
But like a stray dog, dying for some affection, he’d come slinking back after Pete had made his deposit.
He’d come in the rear entrance and stayed out of sight in the back hall, shamelessly eavesdropping as Graham confessed his love.
His last words hung in the air. “So that’s it? You’re choosing him anyway? Over me?”
Jason closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the wall. He couldn’t see her from where he was hidden, and he willed the other conversations going on between the firefighters to the background, focusing all of his attention on hearing Victoria’s answer.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but I choose him.”
Eyes stinging, Jason drew in a shaky breath. Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to get himself under control.
He pushed away from the wall, ready to go after her, but before he had the chance, she rounded the corner and ran smack into his chest. His good arm went around her reflexively, preventing her from falling back on her ass.
“Jason!” she said, clearly surprised.
He wanted to say something, but words failed him.
“How much of that did you hear?” she asked.
“Enough,” he said.
She backed out of the circle of his hold and folded her arms over her middle. Was it his harsh tone that had her retreating? He hadn’t meant to sound terse, but dammit he was keeping it together by a thread here. What he really wanted was to back her up against this wall and bury himself inside her, but he held his passion in check. Barely.
He devoured her with his gaze instead and she fell back against the wall, eyes widening.
“The thing is…I did choose you, but…”
Ah, fuck. There was always a but. Of course there was. Some things were too good to be true.
“I need to know this is going somewhere,” she said, her eyes searching his face. “I’m not talking marriage. Or even I-love-yous. I just need to know that this is something…” Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper. “I need to know that I’m…something to you.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her none too gently into the women’s bathroom. This place was full of men, not too damn likely any of them would come in here. Besides, Pete was probably shooing the last of the stragglers out right now, having long since turned off the taps.
He positioned her in front of the mirror, so she was facing it, and he stood behind her, his chest pressed against her back. “What do you see?”
She caught his gaze i
n the reflection. “I see me. And you.”
Pressing his lips to her neck, he nuzzled her there until she sighed and dropped her head back on his shoulder. “Good. Now watch.”
He ran his left hand up her torso beneath her soft cotton t-shirt. He stopped for a moment to enjoy the firm roundness of her breasts then continued his way up and pulled the t-shirt over her head.
Catching her reflection in the mirror, he stopped breathing for the space of several heartbeats. She was so damned beautiful, her flat toned stomach, her small but firm tits encased in black lace, color high on her cheeks, lips ready for his kiss.
Not looking at their reflection, her gaze was locked on him, on his lips. “Don’t look at me,” he said, his voice hoarse as he skimmed his hand down her stomach and toyed with the fastening of her jeans. “Watch us.”
Using his bandaged hand, he took her by the chin and gently turned her face toward the mirror. “You want to know how I feel about you?” he whispered in her ear. “I burn for you. Every second I’m not with you, I’m thinking about how I can arrange to see you again. And when I’m finally with you? I’m thinking about how I can get closer to you.”
He slipped his hand into her panties and groaned when he found her hot and wet for him. “Dammit, Victoria. You want to know if you’re something to me? You’re the cool water—the only thing that eases this fire inside. You’re the most important something in my world.”
Kissing the soft spot of skin just under her ear, he drew circles over her center and reveled in the sound of her whimper.
“But those words mean nothing,” he said, returning his lips to her ear. “People say things all the time. They tell lies. They change their minds. If you want to know the truth, it’s in my actions. It’s in that mirror. If you want to know how I feel about you, Victoria, then you need to watch.”
*
Never in her life had she felt so desired. The combination of his touch and his words—words she’d never dreamed he’d say—they were a heady aphrodisiac. So intoxicating that she was happy to let this illicit rendezvous in a public bathroom go far beyond the bounds of decency.
She moved against his hand, unable to resist the sight of him loving her in the mirror. And he was loving her. She could see it in their reflection. It was like stepping outside of herself and observing them as an outsider. The perspective showed her things she never would have noticed otherwise.
Whenever they were together, she was always so overwhelmed by the feel of him. His big body, the bunched perfection of his muscles, the hard length of his…hard length. She never took the time to see what he was doing to her.
But tonight, in this mirror, she watched his hand move over her, his touch reverent. She observed the loving warmth of his gaze as it roamed hungrily over her. She noticed the way his mouth moved over hers as if he were taking communion from her lips.
He worked her to a fevered pitch, his fingers rolling over the exact spot guaranteed to make her fly apart. And she watched the whole thing. Saw what her face looked like in those moments of ecstasy, and the visual took her to new heights. Entire body shaking, she came against his hand.
“Yes,” he whispered in her ear. “Come for me, beautiful.”
She turned her head, needing his kiss to keep her grounded, then turned her body to face his. He lifted her onto the counter, and she braced her weight on her hands, raising her hips so he could make quick work of her jeans and panties.
Not wanting to be the only one completely naked, she reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them while he pulled his shirt over his head. There was no time to get them all the way off with his shoes. She needed him now, so she wrapped her legs around him.
Poised at her entrance, he drew back to look at her. Her breath caught at the fire in his blue gaze. All that heat focused on her made her pulse quicken. She closed the distance between them, kissing him and speaking against his lips, “Please, Jason. Right now.”
He groaned and pushed inside her, then turned them slightly so she could see the side view of their coming together in the mirror. She experienced the out-of-body sensation again, watching him move in and out of her, watching his mouth descend to her breasts where he worshiped them with his lips. His tongue.
This was no quick bathroom fuck. No, this counter was the altar upon which he worshiped her.
She arched under his attentions and cried out when he reached between them to work her over with his fingers. She was helpless against his touch and the erotic visual in the mirror. Unable to breathe, her body tightened around him, the orgasm going on and on, until she finally gave in to the need for oxygen. She sucked in air, trying to recover from being catapulted to another planet, and he held tight and quickened his pace.
He leaned over her, burying his face in her neck, his hot breath whispering against her skin. “Oh, fuck. Oh, Victoria.”
His pace was frantic, as if he was reaching for something that was just outside his grasp. She held him to her and whispered in his ear. “I choose you.”
The moment she uttered the words, he slammed into her one last time, a strangled groan escaping as he came inside her.
His body trembled, and it was difficult to tell if it was the aftershocks of his climax or the intensity of his feelings that shook him.
“You okay?” she whispered against his cheek. She tried to back up enough to see his face, but he shook his head, holding her tight and keeping his face buried in her neck. His breathing was ragged and harsh, like a child trying not to sob. The vulnerability of it absolutely wrecked her, and she wrapped her arms around him, murmuring unintelligible endearments in his ear.
Many minutes later, his breathing had evened out, and he backed up to kiss her lips. Leaning his forehead against hers, he said, “I hope you never have to wonder again whether or not you’re something to me.” He kissed her again. “Because you’re everything to me.”
It was almost as perfect as hearing him say, I love you.
Almost.
Chapter 27
Surrounded by vanilla-orange scented sheets and pillows, Jason slowly came to awareness. He reached for Victoria—something he’d easily grown accustomed to doing in the morning—and found nothing but an empty bed. Staying still, he listened for any sign of her. The shower wasn’t running. There were no sounds or smells coming from his kitchen. He rolled over and squinted at the clock.
6:15.
Goddammit. She’d already left for work.
He reached for the note sitting on the nightstand next to his clock and then fumbled with his glasses, putting them on one-handed.
It was a late night. Didn’t want to wake you. Don’t worry about me today. I promise I’ll be safe. Forever yours, Toria
Sighing, he rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling.
He was a chicken-shit.
She’d needed to hear something from him last night and he hadn’t had the balls to say it. And why not? He certainly felt it. If he was honest, he’d fallen in love with her long before she’d said the words.
I need to know that I’m something to you…
She was trying to be patient with him, and he loved her all the more for it, but what he should’ve done when she’d said that last night was drop to his knees and tell her he loved her.
Instead, he’d hid behind some bullshit about how words didn’t mean anything, how words could lie.
And that had been a lie.
Because words did mean something. It meant something to him every time she said I love you. He craved the sound of those words from her lips. Felt the loss of them when she signed her note forever yours. Not I love you, but forever yours. And yet, he was holding those coveted words back from her.
Why? Why was he doing this?
Because he’d allowed some sick, twisted superstition to rise up and put the squeeze on his words. Some ridiculous notion that if he admitted it, he’d lose her. Just as his foster family had fallen apart within days of saying I love you to them.
Wha
t he realized today though, waking up to an empty bed, was there was one thing worse than saying I love you and losing Victoria.
And that was not saying it and losing her.
The idea that something could happen to her today and she’d never know how he felt—it burned a hole in his chest.
He rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand but immediately tossed it aside. He wasn’t going to say it over the phone or in a text. It had to be in person.
He sat up and let his legs hang over the bed, taking a second to lower his injured hand and let the blood rush back into it since he’d slept with it over his head. Waiting for the pins and needles sensation to subside, his gaze landed on the periodic table that Victoria had leaned against the wall when she’d put up the butterfly painting.
He could name the elements from rote memory, but he read them anyway. When he got to carbon, he jumped up, picked up the framed poster, and threw it on the bed.
“Son of a bitch.”
As if they were highlighted with neon yellow, four sets of numbers popped out at him.
6 2 4
7 2 5
8 2 6
9 2 7
Picking up his phone, he dialed Preston.
On the second ring, Preston’s voice came on the line. “You’re welcome.”
“Huh?”
“For kicking you out. You went back to her, right? And now you’re calling to say, ‘Thank you, Preston, for helping me see that I was being a total douche.’”
“Yes, all of that. But more importantly I need your research skills.”
“Shit. It’s the twenty-seventh, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and I think I’ve got something. Are you near a computer?”
“Yes.”
“Pull up a periodic table.”
There was a pause while Preston put him on speaker and then the sound of typing. “Okay, got it.”
“Now look at the atomic numbers in the upper left-hand corner for carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and fluorine.”
“Six, seven, eight, and nine,” Preston read.
“Exactly. Now look in the upper-right hand corner at the two numbers representing electrons per shell.”
Burn for You Page 29