Beauty and the Bad Boy

by Scarlett Dupree

  I pushed on his shoulders. “Jake…” But he was too strong. He pushed my hands clear and clutched me harder, his hand grabbing at my breast.

  And then I felt fear. Sitting on the desk with my jeans around my knees, I was way too vulnerable. I had no good leverage. Then he backed off slightly to open his own jeans, and I used the opportunity to raise my bound-up legs. I pushed hard with my hands and kicked out with my legs and knocked him back. "Jake! Stop! Fucking stop!"

  He froze. He looked bewildered. "What's wrong?"

  Shaken, I got up from the desk and pulled my clothes back together. "I don't want this. Rough is one thing; angry is something else, and I don't want it." I crossed my arms over my chest, my hands on my shoulders. "You scared me."

  I might as well have slapped him, he flinched so hard. "I–I didn't… no… Dakota!" He looked stunned and hurt at first; then, as if he were playing back the past few minutes in his head, his expression changed to something like shame. He reached for me, and then just dropped his hand. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I’m so sorry," he whispered. A few drops of tears fell from his eyes.

  There was a lot going through my head just then, snarling into an incomprehensible knot. I didn't know what to do with his apology, but I could see his anguish plainly. I was scared and confused about what had happened tonight, but I didn't have the energy to figure it out. So I put my arms around him and said only, "Okay."

  He wrapped his arms tight around me and kissed my head. "I love you, I. I'm so sorry I scared you."

  Again I said, "Okay."

  Then we got into bed and curled up together, early though it was, both of us glad to close the book on the day.

  Jake fell asleep almost immediately; I assumed he was exhausted from the emotion and stress of the day. I, on the other hand, lay awake for a long time and slept only fitfully when I finally did. Jake was a complicated guy. He was the dangerous bad boy. Every time I thought I'd come to really understand him, he'd peel back another layer and there'd be a new puzzle to solve.

  I'd expected his visit with his daughter to be difficult, but nothing about the way he'd talked with me about Ellie before, nothing in the way we'd discussed the visit itself, not even his reluctance, had forewarned me that he'd deflect his inner conflict onto me. In fact, his driving need to protect me made this aggression towards me even more confusing. So I lay awake and factored the new information into my understanding of the man I loved.

  Despite the sleeplessness, I sat up not long after dawn with the intent to take a run. It would clear my head and shake off the malaise of the long night. I looked over at Jake. He was sleeping on his back, his arms curled over his head. He'd kicked the covers away, but this night he'd slept in his boxers. I took in the view, admiring the broad, inked expanse of his muscular chest, the regular ridges of his abdomen, the swell of his biceps against his face. He was so fucking beautiful.

  His face was relaxed; he seemed at ease. Not for the first time, I thought about how rarely his face looked so smooth and calm when he was awake. He looked years younger when sleep allowed him some respite from his cares. I wanted to be the source of that respite when he was awake. I didn't want to add to his worries. I knew I did; just by being there for him to love, I'd added to his worries. I wished I could solve that conundrum, but our love caused him pain.

  The rose and the thorn.

  I leaned over and lightly kissed his stubbly cheek. Then I turned the covers aside and slid carefully out of bed.

  ***

  I ran barefoot along the surf for about half an hour, then turned around and ran back. I was warm and loose and invigorated when I stopped, but I was no closer to working through the tangle in my head. I walked a couple of steps into the water and stood looking out into the blank expanse of sea, the tide rolling out, swirling around my ankles, the sand under my feet shifting gently.

  I loved Jake. A life without him seemed unfathomably empty. I knew how much he loved me. But we were bumping up against troubles that we could no longer pretend to ignore. Buried stuff we'd been content to leave underground was rising up between us. And, it was tearing us both apart.

  Some part of him had wanted to hurt me last night. That was not okay. I couldn't let it be okay. It was a line I would not let him cross.

  But what did that mean? Were we over? He hadn't crossed the line last night. He'd come right up to it, it had been close and I had been scared, but he hadn't crossed it. As soon as I told him to stop, he did. Okay, then. Did that mean I was willing to tolerate the threat, as long as he didn't follow through?

  That didn't feel right. I didn't want to be in a relationship in which there was even a thought that a fight could become violent. I shouldn't have to be on self-defense alert to speak my mind with the one person I loved and trusted above all others. We already danced around in enough grey area.

  Every time he came home upset from some gang thing and needed rough sex, we danced in the grey. I was happy to let him have what he needed. But I needed a very clear boundary, and we apparently hadn't established one. Last night proved that.

  I understood, too, that Jake fought with his fists in just about every other relationship in his life. Almost any conflict with a Fire Bird, big or small, was resolved with some kind of violence. Expecting him to control that when he fought with me meant expecting him to build a whole new response just for me. Especially since our fights came up from such dark places.

  I realized that I had no idea whether he'd ever hit Tina. Until last night I would have said with utter confidence that he absolutely had not. I was still almost certain he hadn't. I knew little about Tina–she was part of his past about which he didn't volunteer and I didn't pry–but I couldn't see the gentle, sensitive man I knew beating a woman he loved.

  So, then, had there really been a risk last night? Would he have controlled himself even without my promise hanging over his head that I would leave him?

  And how did the gentle, sensitive man I knew match up with the outlaw he was? He spent almost every day waist-deep in real violence. Like action-movie violence. He'd killed. Repeatedly. To save his brothers, or his loved ones, or himself, he'd killed without a second thought. Was I really okay with that?

  Yes. I really was. Hell, since the Locos attack, I was a killer, too, not to put too fine a point on it. It wasn’t easy living with the knowledge I’d taken a life but I had no choice and would do it again if it meant protecting children. It was the only question I'd asked myself this morning that I had a ready answer for.

  What he did as a Fire Bird really didn't factor at all in my feelings for him or my desire to bind myself to him. It never had. And he was gentle and sensitive. He was compassionate and empathetic. No question. The man I loved was a kind, beautiful creature.

  As I untangled the strands of my thoughts, I understood that the problem was that the outlaw and the beautiful creature didn't match up. He swallowed whole all the guilt and conflict he felt about the things he had to do as a Fire Bird, the things that had happened because of the Fire Birds, and let it eat him from the inside out. He brought it home. He brought it to me. That's why the dark moods and rough nights happened. It was why he was so anxious, so protective, and always felt so goddamn guilty about everything. It was why his love for me caused him pain and fear.

  Could such a love be a good thing? Could what we had not be a good thing?

  I hadn't moved, but the tide had rolled out, and now I was a couple of feet from the water's edge. I heard the familiar, faint jingle of his wallet chain and looked over my shoulder as he came up behind me and wrapped me in his weighty arms. I grabbed them, and he pressed a kiss to the side of my head. "Please don't leave me," he whispered.

  Without warning, I dropped my head and started to cry.

  "Dakota?" I heard panic rise up in his voice. I was crying too hard to speak; I just shook my head. He turned me and put his hands around my face. He tried to lift my head to look at him, but I resisted. "Oh, God, Dakota. No… I'm so sorry. Please. I love you. P
lease don't give up on me." He was crying now, too.

  He leaned me forehead against his chest and bawled. Until I started crying I hadn't realized how close I was to ending it. But the realization had now come upon us both. I felt his desperation in the way his hands stroked my back. I felt his chest shaking from his own sobs.

  "Please, please, please," he whispered, over and over. I loved him. I loved him so damn much. I didn't want a life without him. I just didn't. I didn't want the life I had before I met him. The life where I didn't live. I wanted the life he offered me, the life he'd already given me. I wanted the tumult and the passion. I wanted the joy and the pain. My love for him filled me up. I loved the outlaw and the old soul. He was the reason I was living again. I lived for him.

  Maybe we didn't match up, but we were inextricable halves of the whole man. He deserved my trust–the trust that he wouldn't hurt me, and the trust that he knew his own love best.

  Still crying, I slid my arms up and around his neck and clutched him close. "I love you. I love you. I'll never give up on you. I love you, Jake Rider."

  Gasping, he pulled me tight against him, lifting me off my feet. He kissed my neck, my cheek, my lips. His knees buckled, and we went down together to the sand. He lay on me and kissed me deeply. I could taste his tears. I slid my hands behind his neck and kissed him back.

  He pulled back and looked into my eyes. "I will make last night up to you. I promise, Dakota…” He looked away from me. “You deserve…”

  I stitched my fingers through his hair, and made him look at my steady gaze. My pulse fluttered at just his eyes meeting mine. They were crystalline blue and hot and radiating life and love as my own spilled out the same. I couldn’t resist one brief kiss, one tiny pucker of my mouth on his that made him groan and grip my waist.

  “I want you,” I murmured. “All of you. Every part of your soul.”

  “How do you think I feel?” He said with a growl. “You have no idea what you do; what you are. No idea.”

  “And, what is that?”

  He was close enough to kiss me again, but he didn’t. His lips moved against mine as he spoke, sending shockwaves through me. “You’re my everything, Dakota.”

  I put my fingers over his mouth. "Hush. Just hold me." He sat back on his knees and pulled me up. Then he settled on the wet sand and shifted me to sit between his legs. He wrapped his arms around me again. I folded my arms over his and lay back into his embrace. We sat like that, quietly, facing the Pacific, his head resting lightly against mine, for a long time.

  Hard as it was to shake off a night and a morning like we'd had, I knew that Dixon and Tiffany were waiting for us in the hotel. Today was supposed to be our one real vacation day. So, eventually, I sat up in Jake's embrace and turned slightly to face him. "We should head back in. Dixon and Tiffany are going to be wondering where we are."

  Jake looped my ponytail around his hand. "You still want to go out with them today?"

  "I do. I think it would be fun. Just what we need. How about you?"

  He looked at me closely. "Are we okay?"

  I combed my hand through his hair, pulling it back from his face. "We do need to talk. There's some stuff that needs attention. But I think yes. We're okay." I pulled his head down so our foreheads met. "And we need a fun day. Don't you think?"

  "I do. I'll never stop loving you, Dakota." He kissed me gently. “Always remember that.” I stood up and held out my hand to him. He took it and stood up. We walked hand in hand back to the hotel.

  ***

  It was a great day out. We took the ferry to Catalina Island and spent the whole day there. We walked around the island. Tiffany and I convinced the guys to tolerate browsing in some of the funky shops. We ate. We drank. We laughed. We played. Jake was attentive and accommodating all day, rarely leaving my side, his hands on me almost constantly.

  As night took its place, we ferried back. We stood in the bow of the boat, Tiffany and I against the railing, our men behind, encircling us. Water and wind whipped around us, but I didn't mind the cold. Nestled with Jake, I was feeling calm and protected. I'd just about packed up my cares from the morning. I knew we still needed to talk. But just now, all felt right with the world.

  It was late when we got back to the hotel. The plan was to be up and on the road early in the morning. An early ride was an easier ride. We said good night and retired to our respective rooms.

  As soon as I locked our door, Jake turned me and pressed me against it. He leaned down and kissed me, his tongue insistent in my mouth. I pulled off his beanie and grabbed handfuls of his hair, holding his head to me. He wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me, sliding me up the door, until my face was level with his. I wrapped my legs around him.

  We stayed like that, kissing passionately, for a long moment. Then Jake pulled away and gently unwrapped my legs, setting me back down. I whimpered and opened my eyes. I tried to pull him back into our kiss, but he held me off. He was breathing hard, but his resolve was written on his face. "I want to talk now, babe. I want us to get clear of it." Reluctantly, I nodded.

  Jake took my hand in his and led me to the bed. We sat down on it, facing each other. For a while, neither of us spoke. I didn't know where to start, or if I should be the one to start. I no longer was entirely sure what I wanted to say. Right now, the idea that I'd almost left him seemed absurd.

  Finally, Jake cleared his throat and said, "Why the hell do you love me, Dakota?"

  "What?" The question shocked me. I knew he knew… he had to know. What was he after?

  "How can someone like you, love someone as fucked up as me? What good do I bring you? What is there in me for you to love?"

  I sat forward and put my hand on his cheek. "Jake..."

  He took my hand from his face and held it. "I mean it. I'm not digging for compliments. I really don't understand. I bring nothing but blood and pain into your life. There's always something I have to apologize for. What could you love?"

  Did he really not know? The thought broke my heart, and my eyes welled. I was quiet for a minute, swallowing back my tears, as I sorted out how to answer him so he'd believe me.

  "You bring me so much, Jake. God, you make me so happy. What is there in you to love? Where do I start? I love your heart. It's big and true. It's been battered, and yet you still love so hard. I feel your love for me in your look, your touch, your words." He turned away from me then, maybe thinking about the night before, and I grabbed his square jaw and turned him back to face me.

  "I love your courage and your strength. You don't back down. You do what you need to do. Without a second thought, you would put yourself in front of any danger to protect your family. You do it all the time. I love your mind. You are always thinking; you're always seeing and making sense of things. You help me see things I would have missed. I love that you love reading. I love your sense of humor. It's quiet and wry and doesn't demand a lot of attention. And, you love my jokes and laugh with me. And, God, I love your smile, your dimples and your laugh.

  "I love your stillness, your depth. I love that we can be quiet together without feeling like we have to fill every second just so it's full. And I love your body and its power. Your hands on me, your body against mine, the way you feel under my hands, between my thighs, inside me… just the thought of you makes my eyes roll back." He leaned in and kissed me.

  We were having the talk, so I might as well say it all. I whispered against his lips. "There are some things I hate, too, Jake." He pulled back, brow furrowed. "I hate your pain. I hate that you still think you have to feel it alone. I hate your fear, and the way it keeps you from seeing when things are good. I hate your guilt and the way it feeds your fear. And I really hate that our love doesn't ease your burden. You told me once that I bring you peace. It doesn't seem like that's true."

  He pulled me close again and kissed my forehead. "It is, Dakota. It is. The only time I ever feel good is when I'm with you. There's so much... I don't know... noise, I guess... in my
head all the time. But when I'm with you, everything goes quiet. I know why I love you. Loving you is easy. Everything about you is beautiful. You've brought so much good to me. You accept me and my life. You ask almost nothing of me. But I ask so much of you.

  “And then I turned around and scared you. All I want in my whole life is to love you and protect you, and twice now–fucking twice–I've been violent towards you. I don't know how it happened. It's not who I am–or it isn't who I was... I don't understand myself. I don't know what to do... I'm ashamed. I'm scared..."

  He laced his fingers with mine and looked down at them in his lap. He spoke the next bit softly, almost under his breath. "I know why you would leave me. The thought of losing you"–he swallowed hard–"But I would let you go, if that's what you want. I was scared and selfish this morning."

  Tears were trickling down my face. I grasped his hands. "It's not what I want. I was thinking about it this morning. I was trying to think through everything that happened last night. And I was on the verge of leaving you." His hands clenched around mine. "But I can't. I don't want to. I love you… I love us too much. I don't want to be without you. I'm not leaving, Jake. I don't want to lose myself so much in love that I become someone who will just take whatever gets thrown at me.

  "I know I shouldn't have pushed you to talk last night when you didn't want to. I wish I hadn't, and I'm really sorry. But I don't want to become someone who can't speak out of fear it could set you off. I know I can defend myself, but I shouldn't need to think about that with you. I was trying to decide this morning if I could live with the threat that you might hurt me as long as you didn't actually do it. My answer is no. I don't want to live like that.

  "But I know you would never harm me because it's you. It’s you and me. Dakota and Jake. I get that your world is dark and at times you reach near rock bottom but I’ve been there too. I don't want to live without you. I don’t want to go back there. Alone." I had to stop talking now; it was getting hard to form words.