Keeping Score

by Sara Rider

  Jaime nodded, then jumped off the table. She slipped on her flip-flops and ran out of the room. She needed to get out of there before the walls closed in on her.

  ALEX COLLECTED THE PRESCRIPTION and information pamphlets from Dr. Magnusson before chasing after Jaime. When he finally caught up with her, she was in the parking lot, leaning against his truck with her arms crossed and kicking a small pebble with her foot, like she was bored. Except he knew that wasn’t even close to how she was really feeling.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and stroke her hair. Hell, what he really wanted was to kiss her until the worry was gone from her eyes, but that was not the kind of complication she needed right now. She needed time to deal with the diagnosis without him giving her another thing to worry about.

  Her unnervingly quiet demeanor lasted the entire car ride home. She shrugged off his offer to stop for food, saying she was too tired to eat after the long flight. She ignored her phone, too, which was even more unsettling. It was rare to see this social butterfly disconnected from everyone and everything around her. The only stop they made was to fill her prescription, and it was clear she would’ve rather been anywhere else.

  Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to her apartment and set his truck to park, intending to drop her off and drive back to his place. She opened the passenger door and hesitated.

  “Do you want to come in for a bit?” she asked in a voice so soft he could have been imagining it.

  “Yeah, of course.” He killed the engine and followed her down the small sidewalk leading to the basement entrance. The early-evening sun was still out in full force, but the yard was lined with verdant elm trees whose lush branches cast a heavy shadow. Most basements in the area were dank and dark, but the rich scent of coconut filled his nose the moment he walked through her door. A mishmash of lamps stood in every corner to combat the darkness.

  Jaime kicked off her sandals and dropped onto her couch, resting her head on the narrow armrest. She looked exhausted.

  “I’ll make you some tea,” he said, noticing the black plastic kettle on the counter with a box of peppermint tea bags next to it. He searched her cabinets until he found a mug. The chaos of her kitchenette would normally rankle his highly organized personality, but for some reason he found it charming. When it came to Jaime, his perception was completely askew.

  “Thank you,” she said, pulling herself to a sitting position to accept the steaming hot mug. “Wait. You’re the guest. I’m supposed to be doing this for you, not the other way around.”

  “You can make it up to me with a pot roast some other day.”

  She laughed. “Trust me, I’d be doing you more of a favor by not cooking for you.”

  There wasn’t much in the way of seating options in her small living room, so he settled on the far end of the couch, trying to maintain a semblance of professional distance, even though the urge to get close to her was overwhelming. It was the last thing she needed right now. Hell, it was the last thing either of them needed ever. “How are you feeling?”

  “Great.” She flashed him a forced smile.

  “It’s okay to be angry right now.”

  “Sure, but denial is also a perfectly acceptable coping mechanism, right?”

  “For a little while, but you are going to have to face this at some point. That means you’re going to need to make some changes in your warm-up and cool-down routines, and—”

  “No.”

  He reached his hand to her knee. “Jaime.”

  “No.” She slammed her mug on the cheap Ikea coffee table, sloshing the hot liquid onto her hand.

  He grabbed her wrist to see if she had done any damage, but she pulled it away quickly.

  “I’m fine.” She grabbed a glaringly yellow decorative cushion and punched it. “I’m fine.”

  “Jaime, it’s going to be okay,” he said calmly, stealing the cushion. She stood up and paced the room, looking for something else on which she could unleash her anger. He followed her and put his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her before she exploded.

  “No. It’s not okay. None of this is okay.” Her voice cracked. She turned to him with fury blazing in her red-rimmed eyes and shoved him. Not hard, but the surprise was enough to make him take a step back. “My whole life people have told me I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t tall enough, wasn’t good enough. But I believed in myself, and I succeeded in spite of it all. I never doubted myself. Until now. Because now it’s my body giving up on me. How is any of that okay?”

  She shoved him a second time before he could say anything. He caught her wrists before she could go in for a third. She locked her narrowed eyes on his, the heaving of her chest exaggerated by the stillness in the rest of her body. An electric charge pulsed between them, fueled by his irrepressible attraction to her. Even when she was trying to beat him to a pulp, she was the most gorgeous woman in the world.

  “Let. Me. Go.”

  He dropped her wrists. She reached for his neck and pulled him down for a hard, angry kiss. He reacted instantly, burying his fingers in her hair and crushing his mouth against hers, taking in the delicious cherry flavor.

  “I hate you for making me go to that stupid doctor,” she rasped against his lips, digging her fingernails into the back of his neck. “I hate you for being right. I hate you for making me break the one promise I never wanted to break.”

  He pulled back from the kiss and loosened his grip on her hair, stroking gently instead. There was so much pain in her rough whispers. He would tear down mountains with his bare hands to make her laugh again.

  “Don’t. Don’t be gentle with me,” she said in a hushed voice. He let her shove him again. There was no malice in her, just frustration. Her small, pale hands held firm to his T-shirt as she forced him onto the couch, straddling him and kissing him again.

  She ran her hand down his chest and stroked him over his jeans with her lithe fingers. He groaned as all the blood rushed to his swelling cock. Her mouth worked its way along his jaw. Her soft lips left a trail of fire on his skin. Despite every primal urge in his body, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away before she could undo the button of his fly. “If we do this, we do it right. I’m not going to be just some hate-fuck that you regret the next day. We both deserve more than that.”

  She pulled back and placed her left hand on her heart and raised the right. “I swear that I, Jaime Meiying Chen, truly want to fuck your brains out, Alex Martinez. I won’t regret it.”

  “I mean it, Jaime.” He cupped her cheeks. Her eyelashes were wet and stuck together.

  Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded. The anger coiled tightly throughout her body unwound. “Please, Alex. I need to remember that my body can feel something other than pain.”

  It wasn’t an admission that she had any kind of feelings for him, but it was enough. He gripped her sweet hips and ground his rock-hard erection into her. God bless those thin cotton shorts because the sexy whimper escaping her lips drove him wild. He ran his tongue along her neck, suckling her delicate skin until she writhed on top of him. He kissed his way down to her collarbone, savoring the taste of her skin, but he needed more. He needed all of her. He pushed her shirt up over her head and pulled down the cups of her bra to free her breasts.

  “You are so goddamn beautiful.” Her tits were full and heavy in his hands. He drew one small, brown puckered nipple into his mouth. She was so sensitive, his tongue had her moaning with desire.

  “Condoms in the bathroom,” she said between heavy breaths.

  With his mouth still feasting on her breast, he wrapped his arm around her waist and carried her to the bathroom and set her on the small vanity.

  “In the cabinet,” she said while reaching behind her back to unfasten her bra. He grabbed the small black cardboard box from her medicine cabinet and carried her to the bedroom, where a few weeks’ worth of clothes were str
ewn across the floor. He lowered her onto the tangle of bright pink sheets in the middle of the bed and yanked off the rest of her clothes.

  “Here.” He handed her the unopened condom box and stripped off his clothes, taking in the sight of her gloriously naked body beneath him. She had a faint birthmark shaped like a heart at the top of her left thigh and a tiny pink scar above her belly button, probably from an old piercing.

  She tossed a condom wrapper at his chest. “In me. Now.”

  “Not yet.” He settled himself between her legs. There were no guarantees of a repeat performance once this was over, and he wasn’t wasting the chance to taste her again.

  She dug her nails into his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. “I need you inside me now.”

  “Soon, querida.” He didn’t tease, knowing how close she was to the edge. He licked her sweet spot, swirling his tongue and sucking in the tiny bud in the way he knew drove her crazy. She was so wet and ready for him, she came almost instantly, back arching off the bed as she cried out.

  She propped herself up on her elbows and gave him a look sharp enough to carve ice. “Damn you, Alex. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  He picked up the condom and sheathed himself, taking the briefest moment to enjoy the pink flush that settled on her cheeks and neck. She climbed to her knees and locked her hands around his wrist, pulling him onto the bed. He let her flip him onto his back and straddle him. She slowly lowered herself onto his cock with her eyes squeezed shut and mouth parted erotically in a silent gasp. He let out a ragged hiss as he filled her completely, trying to savor the incredible moment he’d fantasized about for months. She raised herself up until he was nearly out of her, then sank down again, bracing her hands on his chest.

  She halted her rhythm, sucking in a heavy breath. She bit her lip, an expression of dismay on her face. Without a word, she leaned forward and reached for something on her nightstand. The angle made his cock sink deeper into her wet core while her breasts smothered his face. He took advantage of the situation to lavish her nipples with his tongue.

  Whatever she had been reaching for landed on the floor with a clatter. She arched back up and rode him hard and rough, building to a breakneck pace that made him appreciate her powerful, athletic thighs. With each plunge on his cock, her expression grew fiercer and more determined. Small beads of sweat formed at her hairline and pooled in her cleavage.

  She was so beautiful in this raw, unbridled state, taking what she needed from him. His arousal twinned with a small pang of disappointment, knowing she probably didn’t care who was under her at the moment. But it felt so good buried inside her slick heat while moans of ecstasy escaped her lips that he pushed that thought out of his mind.

  He could feel how close she was by the way she pulsed around him and her increasingly frantic pace. He’d intended to hold back and let her have all control, but she needed more power. More speed. He gripped her upper thighs and thrust deeply at the same moment she sank into him, making her cry out.

  “More,” she said urgently. “Please, Alex. More.”

  He pounded into her like an upside-down jackhammer and sent her over the edge. She dropped her chest against his as she came, clutching his shoulder and burying the screams of her orgasm in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight as she trembled against him. A second later, he roared her name, shuddering as his orgasm ripped through him.

  17

  JAIME’S BRAIN WAS BLISSFULLY empty in her post-orgasm glow. Her face was pressed into Alex’s neck, filling her nose with his spicy, masculine scent. She didn’t want to let go of him. It felt so sensual to lie on his chest with his cock still filling her deeply and his hand caressing her spine, listening to the sounds of their heavy breathing. So different from the rough, urgent lovemaking minutes ago.

  “Lovemaking” was the wrong word.

  She hadn’t been making love. She’d used him. Taken out all her rage and fear and worry on him. And that wasn’t right.

  Dammit. There she went using her brain again.

  She pushed up on her forearms and tried to roll away from him, but he had her locked in the cage of his arms. “Not yet, querida,” he mumbled languidly into her hair.

  She relented and dropped back onto his warm, inviting chest. “I’m sorry I said I hate you. I didn’t mean it. And I’m sorry I shoved you.”

  “It’s okay.” He trailed his hand to her butt, touch so light it was almost ticklish.

  “No. It’s really not. Just because I’m a girl and you’re a guy doesn’t mean I can take out my aggression on you. It was wrong.” Shame burned her skin and twisted her stomach.

  He rolled them to their side and cupped her cheek. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me and I would’ve stopped you if I wanted to. But for the record, I don’t mind being your punching bag if I get mind-blowing sex in return.” He kissed her gently, barely grazing her lips.

  Warm tingles spread down to her toes. “Are you saying I punch like a girl?”

  “Would that make you mad enough to go for another round?”

  It was so rare that he offered up that mischievous grin, she couldn’t help but feel like the most important woman in the world when he did. She kissed him, long and deep, trying to make up for her earlier harshness. “Maybe in a bit.”

  “Sore?” His eyes turned serious and concerned, looking at her like she was a delicate porcelain doll.

  She wasn’t ready to let him feel that way about her yet, so she lied. “Mostly in the good way. I think I finally worked up an appetite, though.”

  “I could eat, too.”

  “I’ve been on the road so long, there’s nothing left in my fridge but a box of decade-old baking soda. You okay with delivery?”

  “No problem. I’ll clean up while you order, okay?” He pulled out of her, and the emptiness he left behind was more profound than it should have been.

  She took an extra moment to enjoy the view of him walking bare-ass naked to her bathroom before grabbing her robe and heading to her living room to call for Thai food. He wasn’t a professional athlete, but you’d never know from his body. Thick, defined muscles encased his limbs and torso, covered by that deliciously smooth skin. She shook her head as she dialed. She was falling down a rabbit hole, with no idea where or when she would land. It was easier to think about his perfect butt than the complicated mixture of emotions swirling just beneath the surface of her heart.

  After a few minutes of wondering what was keeping him, she went back to her bedroom to see what he was up to. He was sitting at the near edge of her bed, still beautifully naked, looking at something in his hands. Her blood went cold.

  “This is your sister?” He raised the photo of two identical cherubic faces framed by matching kitten costumes, black whiskers painted on their faces. “Didn’t know you had a twin.”

  She snatched the photo from his hands. She’d tried to hide it from him earlier, but in retrospect, she probably just drew more attention to it. “Now you know.” She tossed the photo in the drawer on her nightstand and slammed it shut.

  With his typical meticulousness, he took the photo out of the drawer and set it back up on her nightstand, taking time to brush the dust off the glass. “Chelsea, right? Want to tell me about her?” He pulled her down to sit on his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

  She leaned her head on his shoulder, struggling to hold back the torrent of emotions that rose up every time she thought of her sister. But for the first time, a part of her felt like opening up about Chelsea. “She was my best friend. We were typical twins, pranking our parents every chance we got. Inseparable. Most of the time, the only way anyone could tell us apart was because her favorite color was purple and mine was pink. But there were some small differences. She was the wild one. The one who was always up to something. Can you believe I was actually kind of a quiet kid at one point?”

&n
bsp; “I can believe there are a lot more sides to you than you let on.”

  She inhaled, trying to draw in some invisible strength with her breath. “I think we were eight years old in that photo. It was taken a few months before she was diagnosed with cancer. Some kind of rare brain thing. She died two years later.”

  “That’s why you’re so afraid of doctors.”

  She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. “Yeah, I guess so. My parents and I would go to chemo with her every week. I’d sneak the fashion magazines from the waiting room that we weren’t allowed to read and hide them in this big book so my parents didn’t know what we were doing. We’d look at all the shiny dresses and fantasize about all the pretty things we’d wear when we were older. We giggled so much. I really miss that. Having someone who had the exact same sense of humor as me.” Her mouth was so dry. Each word felt like glue in her throat. “She was supposed to get better, but every week she just got sicker. And then she died and left me all alone.”

  “And you never got sick?”

  She didn’t blame him for asking. Not when the doctors could barely believe it. “It was like Chelsea got all the bad stuff, and I got all the good. But for years, the doctors did so many tests on me. I was in and out of the hospital as much as Chels. I hated it. Once I was old enough to refuse, they had to stop. At that point, I didn’t even know what to do with myself anymore. So I buried myself in sports just to have something to keep me going.”

  “What about your parents?”

  She laughed ruefully. “They tried to be there for me at first, but I think the grief was too much, you know? Every time they looked at me, they saw their dead daughter. Dad drowned himself in work and Mom found comfort in her support groups. She became obsessed with them. Parents’ bereavement groups. Cancer support groups. If there was an opportunity to sit in a church basement full of grieving people, she was there. On weekends, my parents would volunteer at different cancer fund-raisers. Search out cancer walks to participate in. After a while, it was like they forgot they still had one kid left behind.”