Mess You Up (Brooks Crest Book 1)

by Jaxson Kidman

“Not sure,” she says. “I just don’t feel like…”

  Her voice trails off.

  “You need a break from my life,” I say. “But not me.”

  “Something like that, Mac,” she says.

  “Well, sweetie, give me the tour.”

  We go through the back door of the apartment building and take the stairs. I smile the entire time as I follow her. She’s jumpy and nervous. I can’t imagine this is breaking any rules with the building. But it’s breaking the rules she set for herself. All those nights debating about me and here we are.

  We stop on the fifth floor of the building and stand outside a black door with gold numbers on it.

  She opens the door and lets me in.

  It’s big, open, and clean.

  It fits Jolie perfectly.

  Everything is perfect and matching.

  The furniture and pictures on the wall all match.

  It’s a studio style apartment and I definitely dig it.

  The walls have that old, shitty stone like feel to them.

  Like the place is supposed to be rustic and rundown, but it comes with a seven-figure price tag.

  “Take your shoes off,” Jolie says to me.

  She kicks off her sandals and walks barefoot toward the kitchen area.

  I stand there and slowly look down at my feet.

  That’s why she brought me here.

  She wants to control the night.

  I don’t take my fucking boots off for anyone.

  Why the fuck would I?

  And she knows I wear boots, not shoes. But she says shoes just to be… what? Is this her being a bitch?

  I crouch down and untie my laces and step out of my boots.

  There’s an island across from the sink that is the only real divide between the kitchen area and the rest of the apartment.

  Jolie has two bottles of fancy ass water sitting there.

  I look at the water bottle.

  Then at her.

  “Something wrong?” she asks.

  “You’re going to fuck with me the entire night, aren’t you?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I show you my life. The partying. The accidental overdose and saving a life. The wildness. So you bring me here and make me take my boots off and give me water. What’s next? A board game and we talk about volunteering?”

  Jolie opens a drawer and takes out a deck of cards.

  “Strip poker?” I ask.

  “No thanks,” she says.

  “Can’t have fun?”

  “That’s never fun.”

  I grab the deck of cards and dump it on the island and spread my hand to send the cards scattering.

  “Never fun?” I ask. “You’ve actually done that before?”

  “Maybe,” Jolie says.

  “Now there’s a story I want to hear,” I say. “Let me just drink this expensive water and listen to you talk.”

  “You’re making fun of me, Mac.”

  “No, I’m not. I love this kind of water.” I twist the cap off. I take a big drink. “Oh, that’s the best water I’ve ever had.”

  “I don’t think you’re funny,” Jolie says.

  “Want me to go put my boots back on and leave?”

  Jolie stares at me.

  Then she drops down.

  She’s gone for two seconds before standing up and putting a bottle of clear liquid on the island. The label is missing. But I’m not an idiot. That’s not water in there.

  “This is what you want?” she asks.

  “I didn’t say I wanted anything, sweetie,” I say. “But if I touch that, I can’t leave. You know, I have to be responsible here. I can’t get into trouble.”

  Jolie grabs the bottle and then puts her hand to the counter and wipes even more of the cards off the counter.

  She carries the bottle dangling over her shoulder and looks back at me.

  “I guess you don’t want to hear the story of me playing strip poker,” she says.

  She keeps walking.

  I look to my left and that’s where the living room area is.

  The couch. Two chairs. Lamps. The TV.

  But Jolie is walking toward a door.

  She opens the door and I catch the sight of something red.

  The sheets on her bed.

  I make a fist.

  She shuts the door.

  If I leave right then, she’ll be hurt for a day or two.

  If I stay, she’ll be hurt for a lifetime.

  You already know by now what my fucking answer is, right?

  I open the bedroom door and Jolie is sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I step into the room and shut the door.

  I fold my arms and put one foot up on the wall.

  “Mind if I smoke?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says. “No smoking allowed, ever.”

  “More rules,” I say.

  “You don’t have to be here, Mac.”

  “Oh, but I do have to be here. You’re starting to crack, sweetie.”

  “I think you’re the one cracking.”

  She leans back on the bed and twists the cap off the bottle.

  Her lips are pouty around the rim and she stares at me.

  After helping herself to a drink, she stands up and brings me the bottle.

  At the last second, she throws her arm out.

  “Oh, I get it,” I say. “I’m not allowed to drink. Because you don’t want me here all night.”

  “How does it feel to be messed with?” Jolie asks.

  I hurry up and kiss her.

  I taste the vodka on her lips. And her tongue.

  She’s delicious.

  She steps back, surprised by my move.

  I grab her wrist and steal the bottle from her hand.

  Now her cheeks are red.

  I drink from the bottle like it’s water.

  When I’m done, I smack my lips together.

  “Aaahhh,” I say.

  “Hope you don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” she says.

  “Not at all, sweetie,” I say.

  I hand her the bottle and move closer to her.

  She swallows hard.

  She’s losing her power over the night.

  “I’m not as innocent as you think I am, Mac,” she says. “Maybe I don’t have a gun in my car, but…”

  “I don’t have a gun in my car right now,” I say.

  “You don’t?”

  I reach behind me and take out my gun.

  Jolie gasps.

  Her eyes are wide.

  I step around her and walk to her nightstand.

  It’s all perfect.

  A box of tissues. Her cellphone charger. A gold lamp with a soft light glowing. A little square box looking thing with some quote about loving life.

  I put the gun on the nightstand and turn to face her.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” I say.

  Jolie puts the cap back on the bottle and drops it to the floor.

  Then she jumps at me.

  18

  My hands touch her skin, cupping over her breasts, making me realize that the fucking sweatshirt is the only thing she’s wearing.

  The look in her eyes tell me this is all just part of the other side of Jolie that she probably rarely or never lets others see.

  Which is fitting because I think she’s found the other side of me.

  The side that cares. The side that makes me willing to take my fucking boots off when told to do so. The side that’s willing to drink fancy water. The side that didn’t light up a cigarette when Jolie told me not to.

  I kiss her, hard, then gently pull at her bottom lip.

  She jumps toward me again and takes a bite at my bottom lip.

  Enough to hurt but I don’t mind.

  She’s never done that before.

  She doesn’t know how to…

  “Sorry,” she whispers as color rushes to her cheeks.

  There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetie
.

  The words are in my head but I don’t say them.

  Instead, I move my hands up, wrestling with the sweatshirt to get it off her because we both know it’s going to look much better balled up on the floor of her bedroom.

  My eyes look down at her body.

  Her beautiful body. Full breasts. Secret and subtle curves that stop time for a second or two. The way those black shorts hug her hips, almost making me jealous. Her hair falls down, some on her shoulder, some to her back, some to her chest.

  My hands touch her sides. I slide up a few inches and Jolie gasps and wiggles.

  Her skin breaks out with goosebumps. Her nipples perk up.

  I grin, remembering that she’s ticklish.

  I kiss her chest and she reaches for the bed with her right hand. I turn her so the back of her body faces the bed. And I keep kissing her.

  Her skin is clean and sweet. She’s honey to my whiskey. The angel to my devil. The rainbow to my tornado.

  I catch myself racing down, an urge and hunger overtaking me as my mouth slips over her left breast. My tongue flicks against her nipple, making her jump and gasp.

  I begin to wonder what it was like for her with others.

  Was it just boring vanilla bullshit? Did she take her own clothes off? Did she hide under the covers and wait? Did she keep her eyes shut and wonder when it will end?

  Again, this isn’t me.

  This isn’t the legend of Mac.

  My hands have traveled down to her shorts. I force my fingertips between her hips and shorts, showing ownership.

  I slide around to the back of her shorts and I realize Jolie has another surprise waiting for me.

  There’s nothing under these shorts.

  It’s just her.

  I growl deep in my throat and gently bring my teeth together. I pull away from her chest. She sucks in a breath and groans. I release my hold on her nipple just before I know it will cause any pain.

  I look at her and her face is flushed.

  Teasing… pleasure…

  I grin.

  I inch down even more, kissing her stomach.

  Her breathing is shaky, her hands shaking even more.

  She reaches back for the bed again and I hurry to grab her hands.

  I place them on my shoulders.

  Just. Relax. Sweetie.

  She’s the one who told me to come over. She’s the one who chose to wear nothing but a sweatshirt and shorts. She knows what she wants from me. And she can stop this at any time without a single question.

  But she won’t stop it.

  My lips kiss just below her belly button as I open her shorts.

  I slide them down her perfectly tanned legs.

  I touch the back of her legs.

  I’m on one goddamn knee like I’m going to ask her to marry me.

  Her fingers pull at the back of my shirt.

  I kiss her soft skin. My tongue begs me to taste all of her desire.

  Just one taste…

  But I know better.

  Jolie is a drug.

  She’s not the just one taste type.

  I kiss back up her body, moving faster by the second. I purposely kiss loud, leaving the sound echoing through the bedroom. I pause at her right breast, knowing I haven’t introduced myself there yet. My tongue swirls around her nipple and I taste her as though she can quench my impossible thirst.

  She digs her nails through my shirt into my back.

  She gives just one tug on the back of my shirt and I smile.

  I stand up and her hands slide away from my shirt.

  My right hand cups her cheek.

  Her lips are gently parted as she takes deep breaths.

  With my left hand, I grab the bottom of my shirt and lift it.

  When I take my shirt off, Jolie is quick to touch me.

  Her hands against my chest.

  She’s looking at my tattoos.

  “Eyes up here, sweetie,” I whisper.

  She looks at me, smiles, then bites her bottom lip.

  She doesn’t blink as her right hand reaches down. Her hand presses against the bulge she’s caused. Her cheeks get redder.

  She uses both hands to open my jeans.

  “Mac…”

  “Jolie…”

  Her right hand slips into the front of my jeans.

  Her fingertips graze my hard skin.

  Then she pulls away.

  Her hands disappear.

  She quickly turns around.

  She hugs herself.

  I watch her take a few deep breaths.

  “I don’t even know who you really are, Mac,” she says.

  “And that means we can’t do this?” I ask.

  “I don’t do this. I’ve never done this. You don’t know anything about me either.”

  This isn’t me.

  This isn’t Mac.

  I don’t have time for this hesitation bullshit.

  I wouldn’t deal with it with anyone.

  My shirt would already be on and I’d be out the door, calling the next one to meet me in my bed.

  But it’s Jolie.

  My heart tells me I’d wait forever for her.

  And my mind is starting to believe it.

  I step toward Jolie and reach for the bed.

  I grab the top cover and pull it off the bed.

  I drape it around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head.

  And I utter words I never thought would leave my mouth.

  “Then let’s get to know each other, sweetie.”

  “What do you want to know about me, sweetie?” I whisper.

  “I don’t even know what I want to know,” Jolie says. “I’m… what am I doing right now, Mac?”

  “Questioning yourself,” I say. “That’s okay. I’ll keep this easy for you, Jolie. I told you that everything you already think about me is true. Why do you think I have a gun? Why do you think everyone is afraid of me? Why do you think I have my own money? Or how I got that money? What I do to make that money? That’s not going to change, sweetie. It’s who I am and what I do. And I know what the end could look like if it all goes wrong. But I don’t think about the end. I think about right now.”

  “And all I think about is the end, Mac,” she says. “I think about everything that comes next. And how to prepare for it.”

  I get closer to Jolie.

  The blanket from her bed touches my body.

  It’s supposed to be her naked body.

  But I’m still hanging around.

  I’m amazed by her.

  I’m… don’t say it.

  I touch her hair.

  I run my fingers through it and gently move her hair all to her right shoulder.

  Then I touch the blanket and ease it away to expose her left shoulder.

  That’s where my lips gently touch.

  “You were wearing nothing but that sweatshirt and shorts for a reason, sweetie,” I whisper. “You had this all planned out.”

  “And now look at us,” she says.

  “We’re talking,” I say. “We can talk all night like this.”

  Jolie looks back at me.

  I kiss her shoulder again.

  Then I kiss her mouth.

  It’s a quick kiss and she sighs into my mouth.

  “I feel stupid right now,” she whispers.

  “Why?”

  “You’re used to certain things, Mac,” she says. “I don’t understand why you want to be near me. Or with me.”

  “Because I fucking want to be here,” I say. “That should be enough. What else do you want to know about me? What else should I know about you?”

  Jolie looks forward again.

  She takes a deep breath.

  She pushes the blanket off her body and my hands do the unthinkable... and cover her up again.

  What the fuck are you doing, Mac?

  “Mac…”

  “No, sweetie,” I whisper. “You don’t need to live in this world of perfect moments. No
matter how you were brought up to think. You should be doing whatever you want, when you want. This isn’t about planning for the rest of our lives. I can’t think that way. I can’t live that way. And if you were wearing a bra and panties, I’d still have you in this position.”

  “The truth, Mac, is that you’re a bad person,” she says. “And I know it. You’re bad for me. It’s simple logic to stay away from a guy like you. There’s nothing good that could ever come from this.”

  “Well… I think there’s plenty good, sweetie. You know what feels good, right?”

  “That’s why my mind is a fucking mess right now,” she says.

  I move my hands away from the blanket and it falls between us.

  Jolie surprises me when she reaches back and her hand goes down into the front of my jeans. She’s got me in her hand. Moving down and back up.

  I kiss her shoulder again and I grab her wrist and pull her hand out of my jeans.

  I keep kissing the back of her shoulder, close to the middle of her back as I push my jeans down and step out of them.

  I press my body to hers, letting her feel what she has done to me.

  My tongue flirts with the back of her neck.

  She shivers and jumps again.

  Another ticklish spot to memorize.

  I stop and put my nose to the back of her neck and I swallow hard.

  The feel of her body pressing against my hardness is almost enough for me.

  And that’s not good.

  That’s never supposed to be enough.

  When it comes to this, it’s the only time I give a fuck about the ending. And the ending is always the same. Feel good. Come. And nothing more.

  But Jolie…

  My hands move around to the front of her body and up to her breasts again.

  I cup her tight and I kiss her neck some more.

  She’s melting into me, pushing back with her perfect body.

  My body pulses, wanting her more than anything I’ve ever wanted before in my life.

  And I already know I have her but I savor the moment.

  My right hand dips down between her legs. Sliding against her honey laced skin…

  Jolie moves again.

  She turns just enough to tease me as she reaches for the nightstand drawer.

  Her right arm covering her chest.

  Something about the sight of her like that… hovering over my gun… reaching into the drawer to get me something…

  She looks at me for a second like she’s nervous about it.