by M. A. Grant
With every movement, she shatters me. I bury my face in her neck, tasting her skin, hugging her tighter to my chest, unable to let her go. This is real. She is real. Alive and vibrant and here in my arms.
The back of my eyes prickle. I squeeze my eyelids closed. I kiss her neck, listen to her ragged breathing and soft moans as she uses me for her pleasure. I feel her hands slide over my shoulders and her arms tighten around my back, hugging me back.
She’s close. Her muscles tighten around me and my spine straightens as I fight for whatever control I have left. She notices.
‘Even now?’ she pants in my ear.
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ I never want to hurt you again.
‘You won’t.’
That’s all it takes. She’s on her back and I’m pounding into her, desperate for something I can’t even name. My fingers dig into the carpet above her shoulders, my forearms bracing her in place. I can’t bear to look her in the face, not when I’m being so needy—
Her hand curves around the side of my face. My pace falters despite my best intentions. I keep my eyes closed, even when she forces my head to turn back toward her. ‘Jake,’ she whispers. ‘Look at me.’
I open my eyes. Something drops on her cheek, splashing against her skin. That’s impossible. I don’t cry.
‘Damn it,’ she says. But her voice is gentle and her eyes are soft. ‘Why’d you have to be a good man?’
I come violently, orgasm exploding through me and destroying what muscle control I’ve clung to. I collapse onto her, groan of satisfaction still fighting its way out of me. But the next breath I suck in transforms, twists into a gasp. My throat’s tight and I have to suck in another breath when a sob wracks me and steals the air in my lungs.
She stops me from crawling off her. She sits up. Her arms band my shoulders, her legs wrap around mine. She doesn’t say a word when I lay back down and bury my face in her hair, cheek pressing against her temple, and cry for the first time in nearly a decade.
She just holds me as my world falls down.
Chapter 7
My arm’s numb. I’m not sure how long we’ve been lying here. Jake’s body is still sprawled over me. He’s shifted in his sleep though so his weight rests on his hip. His face is buried in my hair, his breathing steady, but ragged.
Some dim, quiet part of my mind says I should be worried about cleaning us up, about getting off the floor, but those thoughts are silenced by the memory of Jake’s stoicism breaking. I’ve never seen him like that. Human, I mean. He’s always been this untouchable figure. A broad shouldered, stern-faced presence standing ominously in the background. Not this exhausted man who, even in the height of his raw passion, was most concerned for me.
My fingers trace the length of his arm. He’s functional muscle, biceps thickened from years of use instead of cut from hours in the gym. The light blond hair is soft, missing in smooth patches where burns or scars mar his skin. His hands fascinate me the most.
Long fingers with callused knuckles. Scars and small cuts creating a chaotic pattern. Trimmed nails. A man’s hands. Strong hands that can destroy a building to reach a fire or draft an unconscious woman to safety. Hands that are so tender with me.
He comes to when my fingers brush his. His body heaves with a quick, deep inhalation and his face lifts. He blinks a few times, confused. His hair is adorably mussed.
‘Sorry,’ I whisper, wishing I hadn’t pulled him from his rest.
He doesn’t bother to speak. I close my eyes and relax into his kiss, to that deep melding of mouth on mouth. His hand slides down my side, cupping my breast, while his lips move lower to my neck. He mumbles something I don’t catch.
‘What?’
This time it’s audible. ‘Bedroom. Now.’
I don’t know why the question pops into my head, but it’s out of my mouth before I can stop myself. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk first?’
He rears back, eyes searching my face. If I weren’t already lying down on the carpet, I’d be doing the same thing. That question should not have been asked. It indicates he means … well, more than what I claim he means to me.
But the words keep coming. ‘I don’t know if I can help, but I know something’s bothering you and I don’t know anything about firefighting, but I’m good at listening so if you need to talk so you feel better I’m more than happy to—’
He makes an angry noise and explodes up from the floor. My shock makes me an easy catch. There’s nothing dignified about the way he hauls me up and flings me over his shoulder or my yelp of surprise when he swats my ass. I flail uselessly against his back, but he ignores me and stalks toward the bedroom.
‘I don’t need to talk about this shit,’ he fumes. ‘There was a fire. A woman died. My head was fucked up. I came here.’
‘Why?’ My question turns into a squeak when I unexpectedly swing back down and find myself tossed unceremoniously onto the bed. He turns on the light and I finally see his expression.
I’m fairly positive I get a third-degree burn from his glare.
‘Does it matter, Maya? I’m here.’ He kicks off his boots, undoes his pants, and stands before me, gloriously naked. The furious rise and fall of his chest ruins the moment though. ‘No complications. That’s what you said.’
His hands band around my ankles and he tugs me down to the edge of the bed. I’m wet for him. His cock is erect, thick, and the sight of it makes my inner muscles tighten from need. He’s right. This is what I want. There’s nothing more I want than to feel him inside me, pounding away all these questions and thoughts and horrible inklings of some deep connection I never asked to find with him.
So why does my chest hurt? My throat?
He’s still talking. ‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’
‘I just …’
He releases my ankles and tilts his head toward the ceiling, pulling himself together. ‘Maya—’
‘I want to know you’re okay.’
The words hang between us. When he finally looks back down toward me, his face is set, carved from that implacable stone I never thought I’d look past. I know the battle going on underneath now.
His body sags with a heavy exhalation, his voice weary. ‘Why?’
‘Because you deserve to have someone care about you.’
He lowers himself to the edge of my bed, sitting with his arms resting on his legs, his head bowed, trying to control his breathing. The phoenix on his back furls and unfurls its wings with the movement. My hand only shakes a little when I reach out to touch him.
He jerks, but doesn’t move away.
‘Jake, are you okay?’
‘No.’ Curt. Raw.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
The phoenix shudders.
‘No.’
‘Why did you come here tonight?’
He refuses to look at me, even when I drape myself over his back, our nakedness barely a distraction now. The contact of skin to skin soothes more than arouses.
‘The woman at the fire reminded me of Cat. And you,’ he adds. ‘She was young.’
‘I’m sorry you lost her.’
He shrugs, but it’s more of a reflexive action than a real response. ‘Shit happens.’ I try to think of something to say, but to my surprise he speaks first. ‘She probably had plans for her life. Things she wanted to do. Maybe a guy she wanted to go home to.’
He turns his face to me, his stubble rough against my cheek. ‘The fire was bad. We had a hard time getting her out,’ he says bluntly. ‘And after we were out of the building, all I could think about was how much I’d hate leaving you behind if something went wrong.’
‘Oh, Jake—’
Neither of us is prepared for this kiss. It’s too slow, too tender. And he’s not the one who started it. I’m the one who pulls back first.
He doesn’t move from his spot on the edge of my bed. ‘I should go.’
Every part of my brain screams I should cut him loose and deal with
the fallout at a session with Doctor Blathe later. Instead, I tell him, ‘You don’t have to.’
‘Yeah, I do. Or I’ll do something stupid.’
‘Like what?’
His jaw flexes. His hands clench into fists. But he holds my eyes when he says, ‘Like say I love you.’
***
I don’t give a shit that Maya’s staring at me like I’ve sprouted a dick on my forehead. I’m done with these games. I’m too tired, too confused to keep telling myself to hold it in. She wanted to see me lose control? Well, that’s what she’s going to get.
‘I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know why it happened. I just know that you’re freaking hot, the sex is incredible, and I don’t have time to pretend. I love you.’
She still hasn’t spoken. For the first time in the entire time I’ve known her, she’s silent.
I push ahead anyway. I’d rather get it all out there than try to read her. She’s an actress, for God’s sake. That’s a battle I’d never win.
‘I want to tell Catherine about us. I want to go out on dates with you. In public. Where people can see us together. And I want to have sex on every surface of your apartment and almost every surface of my house. I want you to come to barbeques with the crew and go to your boring performances so I can beat up the guy who gets to kiss you on stage afterward at the cast party. Most of all, I want to figure out what it’ll take to hear you call me a good guy again. Because I swear to God, that’s what I’ll be if you say yes.’
Still no movement. No speech. But no retreat.
Her hand trembles when I take it in mine. I press kisses along her knuckles, savouring the soft, sweet taste of her skin. ‘Take a risk on me, Maya. I swear you won’t regret it.’
‘I … we …’
My hands cup her face and our lips meet. She sighs against my mouth, melting into my embrace. This. Every night from now on. I don’t care how long it takes her to figure that out. It’ll be worth it.
The sunlight’s creeping past the blinds.
‘Come to breakfast,’ I urge. ‘Talk to me. Just give me a chance.’
Her mouth works for a moment, then I hear the word I want. ‘Okay.’
‘Good.’ I release her and stand so I can drag my jeans on. There are 24-hour restaurants around. We can find one. ‘I’ll just call Cat and let her know I’ll be home in a few hours.’
‘Okay.’ Again, the word is soft, but this time there’s a little more strength behind it.
I turn on my phone, bracing myself for the alerts that are bound to be waiting. Maya’s pulling on a lace thong and a soft skirt when the screen finally comes up.
‘Cat texted me about twenty times,’ I mutter as I quickly scroll through her messages. But the notification still remains.
‘She was worried,’ Maya says.
I head back to the message menu and see Maya’s number.
‘You texted me?’ I ask her.
She freezes. ‘What?’
‘I’ve had your number since you and Cat were roommates.’ I tap on her name and the message comes up. I have to read it twice, just to make sure I’m not losing my mind. ‘I can’t see you again.’
I look over at her. ‘That’s the first text you ever send me?’
She’s ashen, horrified. ‘Oh, God. Jake, that was before—’
‘Before I said I loved you?’
She flinches when I say those words. Humiliation burns through me, leaving a sick sinking in my gut. I’m not sure what hurts most—knowing she doesn’t want me, or knowing she’d already decided and still let me spill my guts.
‘Please, let me explain—’
‘Why? What could you possibly say to make this better?’
That familiar stubborn set of her brows warns I’m about to jump into a battle I’m not ready for. ‘I sent that last night. I saw the footage of the fire and I panicked.’
‘Which is why you texted me that you never wanted to see me again. Does that seem a little extreme to you?’ I’m aiming for neutral, but she clearly hears something in my voice that she doesn’t like because her eyes narrow.
‘Not really since I know I’ll never compete with your damn job and you’ll run to it every time instead of me. Even your sister can’t—’
I point at her, fury growing. ‘Don’t you dare bring Cat into this. This has nothing to do with her. And since when did you want me running to you?’
Her hands go up. ‘You’re right, Jake. Like always, you’re right. It’s my fault that you’re obsessed with your job and refuse to act like a normal human being.’
‘Nice job avoiding the question. And thank you for reminding me of the charming nickname you gave me. Tin man, wasn’t it?’ I try to smile, but I’m sure it’s more of a grimace. ‘So I’m not good enough for you to date, but I’m good enough for you to fuck in secret?’
‘I haven’t said I don’t want to date you!’
‘Or that you want to.’
The separation caused by the bed doesn’t seem nearly as wide as the gulf that’s risen up between us. And like an idiot, I still want to be with her. My pride wants me to walk out the door right now, but my feet don’t move. If I don’t try this, I’ll have another regret to add to my list. Time to grab life by the balls.
I take a few deep breaths before I begin. ‘Maya, there’s one thing I need to know. I’m willing to sort through the rest of this later, but I need this answer now. Do you want to be with me?’
One heartbeat. Two. Three.
If I wasn’t watching, I’d swear she wasn’t even breathing. ‘Please. I want a future after Cat graduates. I need a future. You convinced me of that. Do I have any hope that you want to be in it?’
I don’t know how long we stand there staring at each other, but when she finally speaks, the only thing she says is, ‘Jake, please—’
This is why losing control isn’t an option. It leads to moments like this, when I feel like the floor’s been ripped out from under my feet. I’ll have time to berate myself later. For now, there’s nothing left for me to do but turn and walk away.
Chapter 8
I never thought I’d be grateful to have my best friend leave town. But the benefit of Catherine being at her weeklong conference is the smaller chance of running into Jake. Somehow we managed to avoid each other for that painful week and a half before she left.
She’d invite me over to hang out before her trip and Jake would suddenly be called in to work. Or have to go on a run with Dallas. Or some other excuse he managed to make sound convincing. I can’t complain though since he made sure we never even saw a glimpse of each other in passing.
The firetruck parked outside my favourite coffee shop, the one that sits across the street from the college, gives me pause. Yes, I am that pathetic. Just the risk of seeing him makes me reconsider my need for a caffeine fix. But the engine number doesn’t match the ones I saw at his station, so I guess it’s okay.
My paranoia eases a little when I slip inside through the glass doors. The shop’s an eclectic hangout for many of the art students at the college due to its proximity to our buildings. The drone of various conversations mixes with the world beat music happily thumping in the background, occasionally drowned out by the steam venting from the machine or a blender mixing an iced drink.
My fear of firefighters appears to be unfounded. There’s a guy in uniform two people ahead of me. He’s not as tall as Jake, his shoulders not as broad, and his dark brown hair nearly covered with a ball cap. My shoulders relax and I dig around in my purse for my wallet. The line moves ahead quickly, one of the many reasons I like coming here, and I barely have time to pull out my wallet before the barista calls a welcome to me. She already knows my regular drink, but I add a drink for Doctor Blathe. I’ve got a two-thirty appointment with her and I’m hoping a little bribery will keep her from focusing on the reason why I won’t be mentioning Jake as much in today’s session.
I pay and step to the side so the line can keep moving, only to bump int
o someone’s back. ‘Sorry,’ I mumble, still focused on slipping my card back in my wallet at the same moment the other person mutters, ‘Excuse me.’
Oh, shit. Can I scuttle out of here before he realises it’s me?
‘Maya?’
I paste a smile on and turn. ‘Hi, Jake.’
God, it hurts to see him. My mind keeps undressing him, recalling the lines of his body. He’s sex wrapped in a uniform and I am painfully aware of the fact thanks to the covetous glances women in the shop keep throwing our way. Against all reason, I want to bare my teeth at them and snarl. I don’t though.
‘I didn’t see you.’
He tilts his head toward the back. ‘Bathroom.’
‘Ah. What are you doing here?’ It’s an attempt to be polite.
He reads through that like a pro. ‘Regretting my decision to order coffee.’ He huffs a little when I glare. ‘Working at a different station today for overtime. Why are you here?’
‘Just got out of class.’
We stand awkwardly while people’s names are called for completed drinks. After my third inspection of a flyer advertising the shop’s newest gluten-free products, Jake finally breaks the silence.
‘Have you talked to Cat lately?’
‘She called the other night. It sounds like a good conference.’
‘Yeah.’
I shouldn’t ask. I no longer have any right to be nosy. Hell, I never had any right to be nosy. ‘She said you were looking into some kind of class?’
‘I was recommended to a captain’s academy.’
Now that he mentions it, his taking a more active role in his job makes sense. Jake’s good at detail work. He’s respected around town.
I don’t say any of those nice things though. My brain’s been taken over by a petty creature who throws back, ‘Couldn’t handle the flames, huh?’
His only reaction is to raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t retort, he doesn’t insult me back. He just stands there, arms crossed over his chest, and watches me. I didn’t know it was possible to feel worse than when I watched him stalk out of my apartment that god-awful morning. Turns out it’s very possible.