by Olivia Chase
“I’ve also never had it rubbed in my face like this before.” Her tone grows sharp as she stares daggers at me. “That was rude and insulting.”
“I can’t control what other people do,” I protest.
“No, you can’t. And I don’t expect you to. But that doesn’t mean I need to keep being okay with this.” She tosses her napkin down. “I’m suddenly not hungry anymore. I want to leave.”
Our plan was to enjoy this dinner and then for her to stay the night at my apartment. Gail already made plans to have her girlfriend crash in their dorm room. “Where the hell do you want to go? You don’t have anywhere else to sleep.”
“I don’t care.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
I toss enough money on the table to cover the wine and appetizer, plus a tip, and we leave. It’s fucking miserable as we get in the car. The whole cab is now filled with our angry tension.
“I can’t believe how you’re acting,” I say as I drive out of the parking lot.
“Oh? And how is that?” There’s ice in her tone, but I don’t care at this point. My own blood is boiling. What is she doing—why is she picking a fight with me right now? What made her choose this to be the blowing up point?
“Are you just trying to end things with me before you graduate next week? Is that what this is about? You know, there are easier ways to break it off with someone.”
“I’m sure you’re an expert at that.”
I pull off the side of the road and put my car in park, glaring at her. “Seriously? That’s how we’re going to play this?”
“We’re not gonna work out,” she says to me. “We’re too different. We want different things.”
“And what is it you want?”
“I want you to…” She stalls off.
“Oh, by all means,” I say, waving my hand in a magnanimous manner. “Please continue.”
“I want you to be someone you’re not.”
“And that’s, what, every other white bread douchebag who settles into a relationship without any reservations?”
Her jaw ticks, and she turns to look away from me. “And what’s wrong with that? That’s how I am.”
“Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not calling you a douchebag. Don’t twist my words.”
We sit in stony silence for a moment.
“I just wanted to have a nice fucking dinner and then have sex. That’s all,” I say. “This was totally unnecessary.”
“Of course it was. Because you don’t do drama, do you. Or complications. God forbid anyone you have sex with possibly has any feelings, right?” She gets out of the car and starts walking away from it.
Fuck that. No, she isn’t. I’m not going to be responsible for her getting hit or kidnapped or whatever. Especially when she’s in…whatever the hell mood this is that’s going on.
I get out and move after her.
I grab her arm and tug her back toward me. “Don’t walk away when we’re talking.”
That makes her explode. She shoves at my chest. “Screw you. I can do whatever I want, right? Just like you can. We’re both free people.”
I’m about at my boiling point. I’m so pissed I want to scream. “You know what you need?” I tell her in a stony tone. “To get your fucking attitude together. You clearly have shit you need to talk about but you haven’t with me. I’m not going to be responsible for that. Grow up, Brooklyn.”
She shoves me again until the backs of my legs hit the front of the car. “You grow up. You’re living like a child, no responsibilities, no attachments. You can’t be Peter Pan forever, Jax. Pull your head out of your ass.”
That does it. I grip her neck and spin her around until her ass hits the hood of the car. The darkness around us is completely silent except for her heavy breathing and the sharp look of anger in her eyes. “One of these days, that mouth is going to get you into trouble,” I growl, and then because clearly I’m insane, and being angry has me all riled up in other ways, I grip her face and tug it to me in a hot kiss.
She sits there for a fraction of a second, unmoving, then she’s clawing at my shirt and ripping it open, buttons popping everywhere. “You’re an ass,” she pants against my mouth.
“You’re too uptight,” I charge right back, tugging down the strap of her dress and taking her nipple in my mouth. I yank her dress up over her thighs and she shifts so I can tug it to her waist. Fuck, fuck, she isn’t wearing any panties, and that pussy is exposed. “Or maybe you’re not as uptight as you pretend. Dirty slut, no panties on, huh? Were you wanting to get a hard fuck?” I press the full palm of my hand to her cunt, and she writhes against it, gasping.
“I…” She bucks and her breathing grows more irregular. “God, yes.”
I’m going to fuck her, right here, on the hood of my car, and I don’t give a fuck who sees. I open my pants up and release my hard cock, and then I’m inside her, and she’s so wet and so tight and I groan and pull her ass forward so I can slam deeper.
“Yes, yes,” she says, widening her thighs and propping her heels on the hood of the car. Her fingertips are digging painfully into my scalp, and I fucking love it, and I’m still so damn angry about this fight but I can’t stop what is happening right now for the life of me.
I squeeze the nape of her neck and force her to bare her throat to me, and I suck on the delicate flesh there. She moans, and I can feel her cunt growing wetter around my dick and I begin to pound her faster than I ever have before. I move my hands to the backs of her thighs and push on them until her entire cunt is exposed to me, and I drill her hard. So hard she stiffens.
“Rub your pussy,” I growl at her.
She draws in a shaky breath and does so, her hot eyes locked on mine, and the sparks are still there, wild, but they’re evolving into something else. Something deep and primal and connected between us.
Then Brooklyn gasps and freezes, and her fingers are flying across her clit, and she’s over the edge, bucking against my cock. “Yes, yes, yes,” she breathes. Her eyes almost roll back in her head as she shakes from the strength of her orgasm.
Watching her take her pleasure, on the fucking hood of my car out in the middle of bumfuck Michigan, makes my balls tighten, and then my own orgasm comes screaming through my body, my dick swelling impossibly hard and my come gushing in what feels like a never-ending stream. Fuck, fuck, I know my grip on her body is too tight but I can’t seem to help it right now.
I’ve never come like this before. Not fucking ever.
After a moment, it dawns on me why.
Because I just fucked her without a condom on. I fucked her and came inside her.
Fear punches me in the gut, swift and hard. I struggle to stay calm and cool. Odds are, one time of unprotected sex isn’t going to get her pregnant. We’ll be fine. People do it all the time and nothing happens.
But it was still a stupid mistake on my part, and she’s probably going to be pissed. Well, more pissed.
“Brooklyn,” I murmur.
Her gaze darts down to my bare dick in my hand, and she swallows. “We…you didn’t use one, did you.”
I shake my head. “Um. We can go to the pharmacy and get you a morning-after pill. It’ll make sure everything is okay. I shouldn’t have done that. With the fight and then the raging horniness I was feeling, I didn’t think straight.” Shame hits me hard.
This isn’t me. This isn’t how I treat people I care about. And I care about her, deeply. More than I even want to admit.
With trembling hands, she smooths her dress down, and I help her off the hood of the car. It’s evident neither of us is angry anymore—we fucked all of that away, though we didn’t really resolve anything. We can another time, though.
Right now, I need to take care of her. The protectiveness roaring through me shocks me with its ferocity.
Brooklyn looks up at me with those big, innocent eyes. “I’m going to be okay, right?”
I bear the weight of the world
on my shoulders as I cup her face, brush my lips on her forehead. “Totally fine, darling. Totally fine.”
Brooklyn
Outside the convocation center, I clutch my diploma in my hand and close my eyes, savoring the moment. All this work, and I finally finished it.
Mom, Dad, Della, and Cam arrived last night at the hotel. I drove over there to meet them and give them their graduation ceremony tickets. After a flurry of hugs and kisses, we sat down, and I caught them up on everything I’ve been up to.
Okay, not everything. I did mention that I met a guy I’ve been seeing, but…I kind of downplayed it. I didn’t want them to worry. We’re supposed to meet Jax in a half hour for lunch, and I wanted them to get to know him first before they judge him.
It doesn’t help the nervous flutter in my gut that when I asked him to meet my family, he kind of got uncomfortable. But ultimately, he did agree. We still haven’t talked about that fight we had the night of the date, and the tension has been lingering there, unspoken between us. Neither of us wanting to ruin the peace.
“Your father’s going to get the car,” Mom says, walking up to me. She has Cam on her hip. There’s a deep line between her brows. Shit. “So, are you going to tell me why we initially heard from you that you were graduating cum laude, but during the ceremony, they didn’t say it? Did they just mess up, Brooklyn?”
My heart stutters. “They didn’t mess up.” I make myself keep a steady voice. “My GPA wasn’t high enough.”
Her lips thin in disappointment. “Really, Brooklyn. When were you going to tell us? And how bad is your GPA? Everything was fine last we talked. Have you just been lying to us this whole time?”
“I wasn’t lying,” I hedge.
“Don’t try to be cute. A lie by omission is still a lie. What happened?”
Cam taps Mom’s cheek with a drooling giggle, and she shifts him to the other hip.
I swallow. “I almost failed one of my classes.” And dropped low in another one, but I refrain from sharing that detail.
“Are you serious? Why? If you were doing that badly, why not get a tutor, or tell us? We could have helped.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, fighting back my irritation. This is exactly why I didn’t mention it. Because I knew when she found out, I’d get blasted. And I didn’t want to deal with it right now. “The professor let me redo a paper, and I passed.”
“Just barely, given how it dropped your GPA. You were already on the fence as it was. I hope this doesn’t impact your scholarship for your masters program.” Disappointment drips from her, and I hate my reaction of shame and guilt. I let myself get caught up in Jax—that’s the truth of it. I didn’t study as hard as I should have, and I paid the price. But I don’t need someone else rubbing it in.
“There’s your father,” Mom says with her chin thrust in the air. Dad pulls up, and she puts Cam in the car seat in the middle. I take my place on the other side of him, glancing at Della over Cam’s head.
She shoots me a frown, and I can tell she’s wondering what’s going on. I shake my head and look forward.
It’ll be fine. We’ll go see Jax, and lunch will be so great because he’ll charm them into loving him the way I do.
Shit.
I love him. It’s true. I love Jax Beckett, and there isn’t a thing I can do about it. Somewhere along the way, I did what I swore I wouldn’t do. I let him into my heart.
I’m both anxious and scared to see him at lunch. Will he be able to read it all over my face? Shit. I press my suddenly damp palms to my pants-clad thighs. Drawing in a few slow breaths helps calm my pulse to a reasonable gallop. I can’t let him know how I feel—today is already going to be difficult enough.
We pull up in front of the casual lunch joint and go in. There’s a free table near the center of the room, and we take it.
Our waitress comes by and brings us water, which we sip. I avoid looking at Mom, and Della won’t stop staring at me—I can feel her gaze flicking between the two of us. Not right now, I will her. I can’t talk about why Mom is mad at me. I’m already on edge.
A glance at my phone confirms we’ve been waiting ten minutes. No sign of Jax. Oh God, why does he have to be late today of all days? I stare at the tabletop and will him to get his ass here. He’s been doing good lately about being on time…well, reasonably so.
“Where is this boy?” my mom asks in a deceptively light tone. “Can he not tell time or something?” Mom is really uptight about people running late.
“He’ll be here,” Dad says as he reaches over and takes Cam’s hand. Cam gives a chortle and swings my dad’s hand around in the air. “Just relax.”
I shift in my seat, preparing a bevy of excuses, when the door dings open and in strolls Jax, his face tense. The lines ease up a touch when he spots me. He comes over and takes the seat beside me, pressing a distracted kiss to my mouth.
“Glad you finally made it,” Mom tells him. I shoot her a warning look to be nice, but she studiously ignores me, sticking out her hand. “I’m Brooklyn’s mom. This is her father, and her sister, Della.”
“Jax.” He shakes her hand, gives each of them an acknowledging nod; now that I’m looking at him, I can see how tired he seems.
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
“Smith was in an accident. That’s why I was late—I came from the hospital.” The strain in his voice is evident.
I feel a shock run through my system. “Is he…”
“He’s going to be fine,” Jax says, shrugging. “Wrecked his motorcycle. My brother loved that thing. Dumbass—he probably wasn’t watching what he was doing.” Jax shakes his head.
I swallow hard and reach into his lap to cup his hand. “I’m sorry. Let me know if I can do anything.”
He gives a quick nod, then releases my hand and picks up a menu. My face burns from the dismissal, but I try to shake it off. After all, I’m a little sensitive right now, and he’s stressed about Smith. He’s not going to be super affectionate with me under those circumstances.
Mom blinks. I can tell she’s unsure what to think of Jax. And his motorcycle-riding brother.
I give a weak smile. “Well, I’ll go by and visit him when he gets home. Maybe I can help Aubrey cook up some meals ahead of time.”
“She’d appreciate that, I’m sure,” Della said. “This kind of thing can’t be easy on a newlywed couple.”
“So what do you do?” Mom asks.
Our waiter comes by and takes our order. Once he leaves, Jax sips his water. “I run a bar with my brothers.”
“A bar?” She gets those telltale frown lines around her mouth.
I interject, “It’s doing well.”
Jax gives Mom a small smirk. “It’s called Outlaws. Probably not your kind of joint, huh?”
She’s not amused. “I’m curious what your parents must think of that.”
“Mom,” I say in a hard tone, right as Jax answers, “Well, considering it was my dad’s gift to us when he died, I’d think he’d be okay with it.” His voice is even, but there’s definite strain in his eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mom says awkwardly. She picks at the corner of her paper napkin. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
God, this is a disaster. I clear my throat. “So, how’s Cam doing?” I ask. Talking about him always gets my parents happy.
Della perks up. She reaches over and strokes his soft hair. “He’s walking really well now. Too well. He’s going to be a terror when he gets older.” She laughs.
“He’s really cute,” Jax says, eyeing Cam, who eyes him back. When Cam starts to randomly scream, as he sometimes does, Jax flinches and eyes me with concern.
“He does this,” I say. I want to touch his hand again, to feel a comfort I only find with him, but the way he pulled out of my grasp earlier makes me feel paranoid and vulnerable. And I’m sure one of my family members saw it.
Our food finally arrives, and we eat. I pick at mine, my stomach too upset to dig in. Jax doesn�
��t really eat his either.
We sit beside each other, and for the first time since I can remember, we’re not touching. I realize how much I miss the absence of his hands on me. My stomach sinks—I’ve become so attached to him, so needy for him.
My parents make inane talk with Della about Cam. My mom is still pissed at me about my grades; I can tell by the chilly glances she throws my way when she actually looks at me. I’m in trouble.
Jax must notice the tension. “Is something wrong?” he asks.
Mom, blinking in shock that he said something about the quiet discomfort in the room, coughs. “I just learned that Brooklyn’s grades dropped this last semester. I don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?”
“Mom!” I say in a sharp voice. “Don’t do that.”
“And why would I know anything about it?” There’s a matching edge to Jax’s tone. He’s offended, and I don’t blame him. My grades are my fault, not his. I was the one who chose to ignore studying.
“Because our daughter was doing great until she met you.”
And there it is. Dropped right out in the open. Anger flashes through me, hot and hard.
Jax stands, digs into his pocket, and tosses a handful of bills on the table. “You know, I should go check on my brother. He might need me.” He gives a curt nod, his ticking jaw showing how much he’s struggling to maintain his composure, then he spins around and leaves.
“Mom! What is your problem?” I glare at her, torn. Should I stay here, or should I go after him? My gut tells me that I need to talk to Jax. “That was so rude.”
“Seriously, Brooklyn? This is the guy you’re seeing? I guess you don’t care about your future at all. That man is no good for you, and I can’t support it.” Mom shoots Dad a glare when he tries to pat her hand. “No, I’m not going to be quiet about it. I was quiet with Della, and I should have said something before this all happened to her.”
Della stills in her seat.
I stand up. “This is messed up. I’m not going to have this conversation with you right now. I have to go talk to Jax and calm myself down. I hope you do too and we can talk like rational people.”