I freeze mid-stride at the thudding sound of boots climbing the staircase off the balcony. I’m across the room in half a second. Yanking the door open, I’m ready to throw myself at my man, but I’m drawn up short.
“Cecco,” I say, hoping the weight of my disappointment isn’t written all over my face. “What’s up?”
Holding up a small plastic container, he grins. “I need to borrow some sugar.”
“Sugar?” I arch a brow at the man known for torturing his enemies.
“Now, JD,” he says, “I hope you’re not implying that a man like me can’t enjoy the domestic simplicities of something like baking. I’m sure you’ve benefitted from the Captain’s magical culinary skills, am I right?”
My cheeks flush. I’ve benefitted from a lot more of his magical skills than the ones involving food. “Nah, man, nothing wrong with baking. Just caught me off guard is all.” Trying to hide my reaction, I discreetly clear my throat and head for the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll grab you some.”
“Captain around?” he asks, following me into the loft.
I pretend like that observation doesn’t shoot another stab of worry through my heart as I grab the sugar from a cabinet. “Nope,” I say casually. “He comes and goes a lot, but it’s not like he tells me shit about what he’s doing. I’m just the temporary roommate he barely puts up with.”
Cecco hands me the container, then folds his heavily tattooed arms on the breakfast counter. “Don’t worry, man. Once we get Starkey back, the boss will be back to his old self, you’ll have earned your spot in the Pirates, and we’ll get you your own cabin like the rest of us.”
“Looking forward to it.”
I walk around the counter and give him the container filled with sugar. He squints his eyes at my shoulder, an earnest expression on his face. I freeze as he reaches up and picks something off my shirt. But then he smiles and holds up a couple of my hairs. “Looks like you’re starting to lose your hair, JD.”
Relief washes through me and I chuckle. “Maybe Smee will stop hitting on me if I’m bald.”
He laughs, too. “Doubt it. Catch ya later, man.”
“Later.”
We bump fists and then I attempt to look busy as Cecco makes his way back to the door with his sugar. As soon as he’s gone, the emptiness of the loft and worry for James rushes back in. It’s fucking stifling. “I gotta get out of here.”
Five minutes later I’m changed into my running gear, and for a solid hour and a half, I punish my body, pushing its limits, using the burn in my muscles to distract me. By the time I make it back, it’s dusk and my shaky legs barely hold out long enough to get me up the stairs. I let myself in and head toward my room with the goal of collapsing on the bed, sweat-drenched clothes be damned.
I almost don’t hear it over the rush of blood pumping in my ears: the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. He’s home. The immense gratitude that he’s okay is quickly replaced by the urge to throttle him for making me worry. He’s got a lot of nerve pushing me away and bailing on me like I’m just another person in his life who won’t stick around, who won’t fight for him. Who won’t fight for us.
Stalking to the bathroom, I open the door to give him a piece of my mind. But my indignation dissolves along with the air in my chest the second I see him.
Oh, James…
Standing under the shower spray, his head hangs between his shoulders with hands braced on the tiled wall in front of him. He’s the picture of desolation, weighed down by a thousand and one betrayals from people who were supposed to care for him, to stand up for him, to love him.
He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m the man who’s going to stop the cycle. Not only will I stop it, I’ll set that bitch in reverse until he’s literally surrounded by people who love him and he spends his days rolling his eyes in disgust and growling complaints at us. And we’re going to keep on loving him until those eye rolls and complaints are few and far between, and more still, until eventually they turn into easy smiles and unguarded laughter. It might take years for that kind of a transformation, but I don’t care. From this day on, it’s my number one mission in life.
I enter the bathroom and quietly close the door behind me. As I shed my sweaty clothes and drop them on the floor, I notice his right thumb moving and my stomach clenches. But instead of grinding the tip against the grout, it’s lying flat and rubbing back and forth in jerky motions—like he’s trying not to hurt himself. Like maybe he doesn’t want to let his past continue to rule his present.
And that possibility, however small, is what gives me hope.
I open the glass door to the large enclosure and step inside. “Get the fuck out,” he says, his voice sandpaper rough.
“No.” I wrap my arms around him and press my front to his back. He tenses up, and I brace myself for an attempt to throw me off. When it doesn’t immediately happen, I press soft kisses to his wet shoulder and along the side of his neck. When I get to his ear, I say, “I love you, James.”
Growling, he spins around and stiff-arms me in the sternum, forcing me back until the shower spray separates us. He glares at me, his outrage slicing through the curtain of water. “I told you never to call me that. I even told you why and you still fucking do it! If that’s the kind of love you have to offer, Darling, I don’t want it.” Dropping his hand, he shakes his head. “I don’t want anything you have to offer anymore. You can bunk in Smee’s cabin until this is over. Leave me the hell alone.”
“I have no intentions of leaving you alone,” I bite out, stepping through the water and bracing my hands on either side of him. “I’m also not going anywhere—not out of this loft and not out of your life—so pardon my disobedience, Captain, but you can take that command and shove it. As for your name…”
I angle my body and crowd him into the corner, using my larger frame and added muscle to enforce my rare moment of dominance. I’ll be damned if I let him use our natural roles to keep me at a distance. He has to learn that while I have no problems getting on my knees for him, I will stand and go toe to toe with him when I have to.
“I understand why you left it behind, but that fucker doesn’t deserve to have any part of you, not even your name.” Cupping his bearded jaw in my hands, I hold his gaze. “Let me help you take it back.”
He swallows thickly. “I can’t get it back.”
“Yes, you can.” I know James will eventually need counseling, but I’ve learned basic psychology as part of my training, and if I can help him with this one thing, I have to try. Maybe then he’ll see that he’s not a lost cause. “We’ll work on it a little at a time, and only when we’re being intimate and affectionate, so there’s no chance of your mind confusing us with the past.”
His lip curls up in a snarl. “So now you’re a fucking shrink who knows how my brain works?”
God, even when he’s pissed, he’s so damn beautiful. Jet-black hair slashes across his face in tapered strips and drops of water cling to the tips of his spiked lashes. But it’s his blue eyes swirling with banked fire that pull me in. They’re warning me to stay away, but all I want is to be consumed by their flames.
“No, James,” I whisper, hope surging through me when he just barely stiffens. “I’m the man who loves you and knows how your heart works.”
Before he can argue, I press my lips to his in a long, sweet kiss. There’s no heat behind it. It’s a declaration, a promise. I love you. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere. He doesn’t move, doesn’t return my touch or even the kiss, but none of that matters because he also doesn’t push me away. And that more than anything tells me we’re going to be fine.
I start to pull back, but I don’t get far before he grabs my face and growls, “Goddamn you,” then slams his mouth on mine.
Holy fuck, this kiss. This kiss has so much heat that it sets me on fire. He’s ruthless and demanding, his tongue dueling mine in an ageless battle of dominance and submission. But I’m not ready to give him that power yet
. Not until I’m satisfied he understands I won’t back down on this. If he wants to communicate through sex, then I’m not above making him so mindless that he agrees to let me stay.
Pressing him into the corner again, I slide my hands over his slick chest and abs until they reach his thickening cock. Ignoring mine for now, I grab his shaft in one hand and his heavy balls in the other. He breaks the kiss to suck in a sharp breath. Dropping his head back, he releases it on a low moan as I squeeze and stroke, but I want those blue eyes back on me where they belong.
“Look at me,” I command gruffly.
His jaw clenches, and I realize too late that his dominant side might be more than just a kink. There was a time when he was given orders, and because he chose to follow them instead of fight, it made him—in his mind—complicit in his own abuse. Nothing could be further from the truth, but perception is reality, and James has a lot of healing to do before he’ll believe that.
Taking a deep breath, I release him and force myself to reset. I didn’t come in here for sex. I want to comfort him and fix this rift between us, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Settling my hands at the base of his neck, I gently caress him with my thumbs. Then, softening my tone, I try again. “Captain, please. Will you look at me?”
After a few endless seconds, he does, and that tiny seed of hope plants itself in my heart. “Damn. Yeah, just like that,” I say encouragingly. “When you look at me, it feels like you’re staring into my soul. That’s what I want you to see when I say your name. That it’s me touching you, me loving you. That it’s me when I say… You are so damn beautiful, James.”
His nostrils flare and the cords in his neck stand out in sharp relief above my hands as he draws in measured breaths. Remembering the care he takes with my safety, I do the same for him. “I’m going to keep saying it. If it gets to be too much, tell me to stop, and I promise I will. Okay?”
I don’t demand a verbal acknowledgement like he does with me; I don’t need to. He has the out if he needs it. He can tell me to stop right now.
But he doesn’t.
Leaning my forehead to his, I continue staring into those ocean-blue depths. “James,” I rasp, speaking his name like it’s my prayer and he’s my religion. He remains a statue except for the rise and fall of his chest, so I go on. “I’m so gone for you, James, you know that? From the first time I saw you, you drew me in; I was the moth to your flame. I think part of my heart has always been yours, even way back then. Now?” I pull back to study his gorgeous face. “Fuck, James, now you have the whole damn thing.”
“This changes nothing,” he grates out. “Whatever we had is done. I’m done.”
I shake my head. “That’s only because you don’t think I’ll stick around now that I know everything, but you’re wrong. I’m not going anywhere.” He opens his mouth, but I cut him off, my temper rising enough to make my tone sharp. “And it’s not because I pity you or any of that other bullshit. Do I hate what happened to you? You better fucking believe it. I’ve never known the taste of bloodlust until now, and the temptation to act as judge, jury, and executioner gets stronger every time I think about it. But that has nothing to do with why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?”
I can’t stop the sigh. “Did you not hear me all the times I told you I loved you?”
“Just because you say or believe something, doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“This is—”
“No, it’s not!” Pinning me with his flinty gaze, he points angrily behind me. “That wasn’t real life, John,” he says, his booming voice echoing off the tile. “We were living in a bubble, pretending to be two normal guys, but nothing about this is normal and we don’t work outside this loft.”
“What are you talking about? Why the hell not?”
“For such a smart guy, you’re doing a shit job of thinking about this rationally, so let me break it down for you. I’m always going to be the fucked-up bad boy on the wrong side of the law, and once this case is over, you’ll go back to being the golden boy of the Task Force who saves the world, one fucked-up bad guy at a time.”
He shoves his hands through his wet hair as he visibly tries to calm down. When he speaks again, his tone is resolute. “Everyone knows oil and water don’t mix, Darling. We had fun in a situation that allowed us to fuck freely and often, but that’s all it was. There’s no room for feelings in this arrangement, and you’re way past that already, so I’m calling it. We’re done. Now get the fuck out and let me shower in peace.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Hook
I force myself to take steady, even breaths so I don’t hyperventilate at the idea of John walking out of my life. I thought I’d had enough time the past twenty-four hours to come to terms with it.
I was wrong.
I’m also a fucking hypocrite.
I might be incapable of the L-word, but there’s no denying I caught serious feelings for John Darling. As I laid in Starkey’s bed last night, my mood swung like a pendulum from anger, arcing through frustration and misery, all the way to regret, then back again. I’ve never been so fucked up over another person other than my brother. I need to end this before I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Once he leaves, I’ll drink myself into oblivion until I’m too numb to feel a goddamn thing, and then I’ll move the fuck on.
Except he’s not leaving. He’s studying me with those eyes that are like old souls. They look past what I show the world and see all the things not fit for public consumption, things I keep hidden for a reason.
Fuck it. If he’s too stubborn to leave, I’ll do it. But as soon as I move to go around him, he blocks my path. “Not so fast. Since you’re putting our ‘arrangement’ on trial, I have the right to a counterargument.”
“Jesus, everything’s a cop analogy with you. I didn’t put it on trial, Darling. I executed it.”
He arches a brow and brackets me in with his big arms.
“Fine, say your piece so we can be done with this already. I’m tired of this game.”
“This is no game,” he says, his tone solemn. “I told you before why I went into law enforcement. I hated that you and the others had no one to fight for you, no one to protect you. Helping to protect those who can’t help themselves is my calling; it gives me purpose.”
John pauses to gather my hands in his. He dips his head to press a kiss to the tip of my scarred right thumb—the one I almost ruined again today until I thought of how upset it makes John when I hurt myself—and I have to swallow around the lump in my throat before responding.
“Thanks for proving my point. You can go now.” I try to pull my hands from his, but he’s strong as a damn ox. With his muscle and skills, if he wanted to overpower me, I wouldn’t stand a chance. It’s a painful reminder of how special his gift of submission to me really was. A gift that’s killing me to return like some ill-fitting shirt, because no one could be a more perfect fit for me than John. Too bad I’m nowhere close to being the same for him.
“You didn’t let me finish,” he says, steel in his voice. “I know that what I feel for you is love—true love, not some temporary thing born of circumstance—because I would give it all up for you. I would turn in my badge and gun tomorrow and never look back if that’s what you needed. I can find other ways of helping people that don’t put us at such odds. But what I can’t find is another heart that beats in time with mine. You’re it for me. I want to help you heal, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you—even when you push me away.”
If my throat gets any tighter, I won’t be able to breathe. Swallowing hard, I force the brick back into my stomach where I hope it crushes those stupid fluttering things taunting me with a future I can’t fucking have. His golden eyes are the pathway to my undoing, so I drop them. My gaze slides past his neck tattoo that’s flaking off at the edges to settle on the curved one along his collarbone. No Shame, No Mercy. Such a harsh motto for such a gentle soul. Harsh for him. Perfect for me.
I should’ve known lying to him wouldn’t work. He’s like a human bullshit detector. Gathering what’s left of my shaky resolve, I play my last card and give it to him straight.
“I’m not worth that kind of trouble, John. Not that I would ever let you throw away your career, but I’m not worth any kind of trouble. That’s not self-deprecation, either; it’s simple truth. You haven’t even scratched the surface of the shit going on in my head. I’m no good for someone like you. You might not see it now, but it’ll only be a matter of time. And every night, as you fall asleep in my arms, I’ll wonder if tomorrow will be the day you finally walk out that door.”
“Then every morning when we wake up, I’ll prove you wrong, one day a time, until all you wonder about are mundane things like what we’ll have for breakfast.” Erasing the space between us, he presses his chest to mine and cups my jaw in his strong hands. “I’m not saying we won’t have bad days—we’ll have fights like every other couple on the planet—but when we’re done being pissed off, we’ll apologize and fuck each other senseless. And I’m not afraid of the shit inside your head, so you can push me away all you want because I’m not going anywhere. Not today, not next year, and not fifty years from now.”
My body trembles from the strain of holding itself together against the crashing tide of emotions inside me. “Damn it, Johnathan, you can’t save me.” Vision blurring with unshed tears, I plead for him to understand. “I’ve lived in the dark too long. You can’t drag me into your light just because you want me with you.”
Conviction shining in his golden depths, he whispers, “If you can’t come into the light, then I’ll live with you inside the dark. You don’t need to believe you can be saved, James. I’ll believe it enough for the both of us. You only need to let me love you.”
I close my eyes, letting the tears spill over and his words sink in. Let me love you. It sounds like such a simple request, but for me, it feels insurmountable. Accepting love from someone means trusting them enough to let them in—truly in—and the thought of being so vulnerable terrifies me.
Hook (Neverland Novels Book 2) Page 23