Dangerous Exes (Liars, Inc. Book 2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Powerful things.

  Things from that giant delicious man who kept trying to eat his rice with chopsticks even though he was worse than a toddler.

  I finally took pity on him and grabbed him a fork.

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  “Naturally we will invite the whole family,” Goo-Poh said between bites. “I think the community center would be a lovely place, it can house the most people.

  “For a wedding?” Jessie interjected.

  “No, no, for the reception after the ceremony. The wedding, of course, will be a combination of your traditions and ours.” She grinned at Jessie. “Though there is one that I refuse to back down from.”

  “Only one?” Jessie said in a shocked voice. I elbowed him in the ribs.

  “The delivery of the bridal bed.” Goo-Poh clapped her hands together. “It is one of the most important parts of the premarriage ceremony, it must take place on an even month and date, and since next month is March we must do it this month. Tomorrow is the eighteenth, that means we are at a two and eighteen, both lucky numbers. We will deliver the bed at six a.m.”

  “We?” Jessie choked on a piece of rice.

  “I am considered a wise woman, I will be present for the delivery and blessing.” She grinned to herself. “And that means we must have the wedding exactly ten days later. I know a good church and can get us a good deal on Chinese invitations, none of that boring white and flowers, we want something sacred. They will be red.”

  “Wouldn’t want it any other way,” Jessie said under his breath, making my heart beat a bit faster as he reached across and squeezed my hand.

  “See?” Goo-Poh pointed to our joined hands. “Already you are glowing with excitement!”

  “I’m glowing with something,” I said through clenched teeth while Jessie squeezed my hand tighter.

  “Oh!” Goo-Poh touched her face with her hands. “How could I forget? You need your rest. Have your man take you home and you sleep. When you wake up don’t forget to drink more tea, it will make your bones strong!”

  “Isn’t that milk?” Jessie said out of the corner of his mouth.

  I glared and then kissed Goo-Poh on both cheeks. It was rare to show that much emotion, but she’d practically raised me, and since I was only half Chinese, I told myself it was okay to forgo some of the more crazy beliefs, like the one that said we do not hug or touch or encourage.

  We feed our children.

  They grow and have families.

  Then they feed their families.

  Our world revolved around blessings and eating.

  But touching? Not so much.

  Jessie bent down and kissed Goo-Poh’s hand.

  She shivered and then brought the same hand to his face and whispered in the most serious voice I’d ever heard, “You give me boys. Yes?”

  “Yes,” Jessie replied right away. The man didn’t have a choice, it seemed, better he start researching how to do it than say, We’ll see and risk her wrath.

  She slapped his cheek lightly twice. “Good man. I’m tired now, so are you. I’ll call you with more details about the bed.”

  Jessie opened the door to find Stanley standing on the other side with a paper cross and tape midair.

  “Were you about to knock?” Jessie asked.

  “Knock?” Stanley sniffed. “I wouldn’t touch this woman’s door with a ten-foot pole.”

  “And yet you do, Stanley, at least twice a day just to check.” I gave him a smile and grabbed Jessie just as Goo-Poh started spouting curses in Chinese.

  We left with Stanley holding up the paper cross in front of his face like Goo-Poh was a vampire.

  I was surprised he didn’t toss garlic.

  By the time we made it to the car I was exhausted.

  “So . . .” Jessie smirked at me. “Bridal bed? Do I want to know?”

  I groaned into my hands.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  JESSIE

  I was at a complete loss.

  For once in my life, I had no plan other than try to survive the next day without ending up front-page news, going to prison, or losing my mind as Isla showed me a side of her I wasn’t quite prepared for.

  Baking.

  She was a baker.

  And not the clean-up-your-mess sort of baker.

  But the kind where flour filled every crevice of my house.

  The only way I even saw it was because I had blue walls, but that was beside the point.

  The point?

  I went to take a shower with every intention of coming back into the living room, pouring her a big glass of red wine, putting on a movie, and possibly getting lucky.

  But when I walked out?

  It was the exact opposite of what I expected.

  Chaos.

  Complete and utter chaos.

  Isla had covered her red dress with an apron—a lot of good it did her with all the flour on her cheeks. She was rolling out something with such aggression I almost felt sorry for the dough.

  Something that smelled sweet was cooking in the oven. She pulled the dough up and started pounding it with her fist, giving me a little jolt.

  My eyes fell to every dirty dish.

  Every inch of space that was taken up with something gooey, sticky, that didn’t belong.

  The things that had no place.

  A bomb had exploded in my kitchen.

  And she just kept going, pounding, yelling things in a language I didn’t understand.

  Anxiety squeezed my chest as I mentally calculated how many hours it would take me to clean the house. My erratic paranoid thoughts wondered if she was tracking flour with her shoes, if she would clean her dishes or leave a mess.

  My mind was everywhere.

  And then she swiped her right hand underneath her eyes as a tear fell into whatever the hell she was making, and my heart stilled.

  More yelling followed as she pounded the bread.

  A warm sensation gripped my chest, replacing the anxiety as I pulled out my phone, scrolled through some slow music, stopped on “Only,” by Shashi Pratap Singh, and pressed “Play.”

  She looked up as I approached, and then back down like she was ashamed.

  I walked behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, then twirled her in my arms and started dancing.

  Her eyes flickered to mine with uncertainty. “I know you’re pissed, I’ll fix it, I just need some time, and I’ll clean up my mess. I just needed to get lost in something so I could think and—”

  “Isla?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Shut up.” I covered her mouth with mine before she could protest, then wrapped my arms around her, our bodies danced, our tongues did the same as I comforted her in the only way I wanted.

  I forced the world away.

  And concentrated on her.

  The minute I stopped thinking about myself, my own anxiety, the mess, I relaxed and enjoyed the moment.

  I embraced the chaos surrounding me.

  And just let go.

  She moaned against my mouth then broke off. “I feel like any minute you’re going to yell at me for this disaster, or for getting us caught in this horrible position, and I’m really sorry about your car.”

  I flinched. “What did you do to my car?”

  She smirked. “Gotcha.”

  “Oh, you think that’s funny?” I reached for her before she could pull away and punished her with another kiss, then lifted her onto the counter. Flour caked her ass and then my hands as I tugged the apron off and scooted her dress up. I gripped her hips, making flour handprints on her skin.

  I liked the way it looked.

  The way it felt.

  To see my handprints on her body.

  Mine.

  “What are you doing?” She looked so innocent then, with her hair pulled back in a low bun, flour caking her cheeks and pretty red dress, and the few tears that you could still see streaked down her face. God, I wanted to eat her up. I didn’t want to let he
r go. And it scared the shit out of me. “Two hours, how could you forget?”

  “Oh?” She grinned wickedly. “And what are we going to do with our two hours tonight?”

  “Actually”—I made a face—“I didn’t get two hours last night. Being drugged cancels out any sense of time—especially since I wasn’t aware time existed in your arms.”

  I didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  Her lips parted.

  I captured them again, one by one, taking my time sucking as I cupped her face, pushed open her knees, and walked between her thighs. Her heels hooked behind my ass as I laid her down next to whatever she’d been attempting to bake.

  Our eyes locked.

  Hers were hesitant.

  Mine only saw her.

  So when I shoved everything off the counter and it crashed to the floor, I could see her surprise, I could feel her desire and shock.

  And I wanted to be the man to do that to her every fucking time.

  I opened my mouth to tell her.

  To tell her something was changing.

  To tell her that it was me.

  That it was her with me.

  But she didn’t let me, she pulled my shirt over my head and hungrily devoured my mouth until it was hard to breathe. I tried again to speak when she shoved my sweats down with her gorgeous stilettos, and then I was tossing them to the ground while she inched her skirt up higher.

  “No underwear,” I breathed out and nearly lost consciousness as she wiggled closer to me and shook her head.

  “Were you like this at Goo-Poh’s?” Why was my voice so strained?

  She nodded slowly.

  “Shit.” I braced myself on either side of her, then climbed onto the counter, my knees spreading more flour everywhere while her hair made a snow angel with the rest of it. “You’re gorgeous.”

  “I have flour in my ears.”

  I chuckled and blew in her ear, then kissed it and whispered, “Like I said, gorgeous.”

  She moaned when I tugged her ear with my teeth.

  And then she was clawing at me as I thrust into her. Flour went flying like dust as her body moved against the island.

  I’d owned this house since my first marriage.

  I’d never once had sex anywhere but the bed.

  I suddenly wanted to burn my bed and set up camp in every other available space, as long as I had a flour-covered Isla.

  Our mouths met with each crazed thrust, my body was so tight, so ready for her, ready to explode, and I could tell she felt the same, like she was on the edge of sanity just waiting for me to push her off.

  Waiting for me to jump with her.

  “Never want this to stop.” The words rushed out. “I think I like you better on a bed of flour than one of expensive sheets.”

  Isla moaned. “Me too. I like you like this.” She placed a crazed kiss on my mouth and then her flour-caked hand was running down my cheek slowly as dust filled the air around us.

  I moved deeper, I felt her constrict around me as the walls surrounding my heart crumbled further, as something like freedom took over and replaced the bondage that had been my comfort.

  Our mouths clanged together as I pumped faster.

  And then she was there, I could feel it in the way she pulsed, released me, and shook in my arms. I didn’t want it to end. Every selfish part of me cried out with my release, only to beg for more seconds later.

  I refused to acknowledge my feelings in that moment.

  Because I was afraid that hers weren’t the same.

  Afraid I’d pushed the good away.

  Made her leery of my intentions.

  “I don’t want to destroy you,” I whispered against her mouth.

  She sucked in an unsteady breath.

  I just want to keep you.

  That I kept for myself.

  When I should have shared it with the one woman capable of giving me what I needed.

  Chapter Forty

  ISLA

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I laughed as Jessie picked up the Magic Eraser and showed me the proper way to clean a cupboard. “It’s like magic!”

  “It’s the single best invention of all time.” He grinned and tossed it at me.

  I was going to buy stock in those suckers.

  We were both still covered in flour, but at least the dishes were done, the bread was in, and I think most of the flour was removed from the kitchen, though if I knew Jessie at all, he was probably going to do a second cleaning just to make sure.

  I didn’t want to push him too far.

  The hottest thing I’d ever seen was watching that man toss my dough to the ground and climb up on the counter. I would fan myself for years over that vision of him in flour.

  I shivered.

  “Shower.” He directed me to the master bath, not the bathroom I normally used. Something had shifted between us, I wasn’t sure if it was all the marriage talk, baby talk, or maybe just the simple fact that for now, we were stuck together.

  He turned on the shower and grabbed another towel. He pulled off his sweats and walked over to me, then unzipped my dress, careful to pull my hair away from the zipper as he dropped the dress to the floor.

  His eyes raked over me before he hung his head. “Damn.”

  Flour covered his abs. I reached out and wiped some from one of the ridges and shrugged. “Not so bad yourself.”

  He gripped my hand and pulled me into the large tiled walk-in shower. Water fell from the ceiling like a waterfall. I could live in that shower and be happy the rest of my life. I held my hands out wide and laughed.

  “Ah, she likes getting dirty but being clean is better?” His mouth worked mine again before he started rubbing soap down my chest, arms, legs. I watched him wash me and nearly passed out when he reached between my legs.

  “You have the best shower in the world,” I said, my eyes not leaving his.

  He moved the soap up my inner thigh. “I’d say you give it a vast improvement by standing there.”

  “Charmer.”

  “Always, I just try to play hard to get.”

  “Oh, so that’s why you’re such a jackass?”

  “Of course.” He laughed. “It makes you appreciate my kindness so much more, doesn’t it?”

  “Bastard.”

  “You don’t mean it.” He winked and then ran his hands through his hair before grabbing some shampoo, squeezing it into his hands, and motioning for me to turn around. “Let’s just hope this doesn’t make your hair fall out. On the bright side, you’d still be pretty with no hair, so I think we’re safe.”

  His compliments were constant. Fast. Like he’d been keeping them all inside and finally felt the freedom to share them.

  I gulped around the giant knot in my throat.

  Not real. Not real.

  But God, I wanted it to be, so bad.

  I’d never had this.

  The easy camaraderie that comes with knowing someone from the inside out, the flaws, the good, the bad, the ugly, and still wanting to joke with them and take showers with them. Still wanting them despite the bad, because in the end you complete each other. You make each other better.

  A hollow ache expanded through my chest.

  Because this would end.

  I knew it.

  Good things always did.

  And when it did.

  I was going to be devastated.

  His hands worked against my skull and then he was washing the shampoo out and adding conditioner. I moaned when he started massaging my temples, and almost asked if I could take a nap with him doing just that when he was finished showering.

  He quickly washed himself and then turned off the shower.

  The towels were warm, fluffy, luxurious.

  If this was how the other half lived, I wanted in.

  I yawned behind my hand and was immediately scooped into his arms and placed in his bed.

  His. Bed.

  I didn’t show my panic.

  Je
ssie picked up one of his white shirts and tugged it over my head, then grabbed a brush.

  Why was he grabbing a brush?

  Tears filled my eyes as he slowly brushed my hair out, careful to get every tangle. I thought we were done.

  He grabbed a blow dryer. And like a pro, dried my hair.

  I was so shocked I wasn’t sure how to respond.

  We didn’t speak.

  He didn’t seem agitated or bothered, just pulled the covers over my legs and kissed me on the forehead. “Sleep.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t do the thing.”

  “What thing?”

  “The thing where you write down everything about today then highlight the good parts, the confusing parts, the annoying parts, messy parts.” He grinned. “Isla, if today I was able to survive an explosion in my kitchen, you can handle not doing the thing and just letting this, whatever it is, be.”

  I fell a little farther.

  Harder.

  He leaned forward and kissed my mouth then walked out of the room.

  It wasn’t until I was almost asleep that I realized why everything had been so normal.

  Jessie wasn’t a psycho control freak because he was a psycho control freak and loved the color white.

  He’d just reverted to what he could control when his wife didn’t allow him to take care of her.

  To love her.

  He controlled what he knew he could.

  I hated her more.

  Wanted to destroy her.

  Because she’d done something worse than rejecting his love.

  She’d broken his spirit.

  And damn her if she thought I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to give it back.

  Chapter Forty-One

  JESSIE

  She was asleep in minutes.

  My back was against the wall. I inched down, hanging my head. What the hell was I doing?

  I wanted her to stay.

  I wanted . . . God, I wanted it to be real.

  I wanted to tuck her in bed at night. Kiss her as she fell asleep.

  I was losing my mind.

  Or maybe I was finally making sense. Whatever it was, this feeling of satisfaction and excitement in my chest, I didn’t want to let it go.

  Hands shaking, I grabbed my phone and sent Danica another text.

  That was five texts and three phone calls.