Steele
Page 10
Eyebrows furrowed, face drawn tight, fingers tunneling into my thigh, she shakes her head. “Steele …” She glances down at her hand and pulls it back. “I’m sorry.” She touches my thigh and gently rubs it.
I grab her hand and kiss her fingers. “You have nothing to be sorry for, babe.”
“You don’t need to tell me any more. I get it. Remembering something you’d rather forget or keep forgotten.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t talked about it in years. At least, not since I’ve been an adult. It’s good to get it out.”
“You haven’t talked with anyone? What about Stone? Don’t you talk to him about it?”
“No, especially not him. That day …” I press my lips together, remembering. “When he calmed down, I lowered him to the floor. I managed to get her onto her back in the tub. I could tell she was still breathing. I poked her shoulder, but she didn’t even flinch. I told Stone that I would get her phone and call Dad. Told him to stand at the doorway to watch her, and if she moved to let me know. I got the cell and called Dad, but I didn’t know where we were. I had to find the keys, unlock the locks on the door, and go outside to find a street sign. Once I did that, Dad said he knew where we were, and that he was on his way. I stayed on the phone with him, but when I got back to the bathroom, the door was closed. It was locked. I knocked on it, yelling Stone’s name but nothing. I dropped the cell, frantic she had him. Afraid she was trying to kill him again. I kicked the door, screaming and yelling. It went on for what felt like forever.” I stop and take a sip of my beer, recalling the beating of my heart, so fast and so hard I thought it would burst right there outside that bathroom door and kill me before Dad could get there, before he could save us. And if Stone was hurt on the other side of the door, I figured that I deserved it. “Finally, I tried the door, and it clicked free. I pushed it open. Blood …” I shake my head. “All I saw was blood and a lot of it. She was lying in it in the bathtub, not moving, not breathing, and Stone, he was just standing there shivering all over. I grabbed him, checked his body, and when I was sure he was okay, I held him until our dad showed up.”
Hand to her chest, she gasps. “Was she?”
“Oh yeah, she was dead,” I say with a small cynical chuckle.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Don’t care.”
“But Stone, he didn’t say?”
“Never. And Dad wouldn’t let the officers talk to him. It was his right. Stone was a baby. He was four.”
“And Stone never said anything?”
I shake my head. “And I never asked,” I say, leaving out the part where I smacked the razor out of Stone’s hand when I first walked into the bathroom. Something Stone and I never discuss either.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
STEELE
“I don’t know.” Jaylyn taps her foot while watching Joel apply the fire gel over my clothes. Fuck, and to think I had her naked, beautiful body in my hands last night. “I think this scene needs to be cut from the film. It adds nothing to the storyline, and it’s risky.”
“Oh, don’t go soft on me now, boss.” I pull my gloves on, give her a wink, and pick up my helmet. A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead. Damn, it’s hot enough already in all these layers. Not to mention, it’s sunny as shit out. Why’d they pick today to do the damn explosion scene? I swipe the back of my gloved hand across my forehead. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not some rookie fresh out of some twenty-hour course on how to become a stunt man.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen him do it before,” Joel says as he lathers more gel on my sleeve. “He’s been playing with fire for years. Check out YouTube. There’s a video of him when he was younger skateboarding with the board on fire. It’s legit.” Joel laughs, failing any reassurance with his usual looney toon hackle. But hell. There’s no one else, other than his punk ass that I’d want aiming an extinguisher at me while I’m lit in flames. He’s the fire whisperer. “At least, he’s dressed for this scene. The one we did for Flashover was a naked burn. Dude, remember that?” He turns from me to Jay. “You should’ve seen him walking through the explosion with his skin on fire, chest, arms, back. It was wicked sick.”
Jay’s unconvinced eyes roll over to me. “Can we, at least, discuss it?”
“Nuh-uh.” I raise a hand, feeling the weight of clothing needed for the full body burn.
“But⸻”
“No.” I shake my head. “You already signed off on it, Jay. I’m doing the stunt.” Her face conforms into her “ready to do battle” look. I pull the helmet on, shutting her out, and smile behind the mask, aware this win is mine. Joel finishes connecting the oxygen to my helmet, and I take a few meditating breaths as I go over the stunt a few more times in my head.
I got it. It’s mine … and I own it for a few scorching minutes until Joel and the other three guys extinguish the flames. Hot as hell, I pull my helmet off, gasp for fresh air, and make a loop around the set. She’s gone. Wonder if she left before, during, or after the stunt. Fuck. I hope she doesn’t plan to stunt-block me now that we’re finally starting to get it on. Well, closer to having sex.
Last night, she had me hot, hotter than the fire just did. You’d never know by the way she’s been acting at work today. After the orgasm I delivered to her, I came in this morning kind of expecting to see something, maybe a few stranded stars in her eyes or a hitch in her breathy voice, but I got nothing. Then again, I did make her cry. I still feel bad about that. Perhaps, that’s why she’s so distant and how she can treat me like everyone else. Thinking maybe I should’ve listened to Stone and not gotten involved here. I’m not equipped for this shit. I do good with one-night stands or the man-haters. Ya know, the ones who have been hurt so bad by another dude, now they got no problem using you. I like to be used and don’t mind it one bit. I like when there are no expectations. I don’t think Jay wants anything from me; she seems to be sticking with the plan that this is about sex, and that’s it. Helping her get over the hump and learning to let another man get between her legs. That’s the agenda here and my personal challenge. Nothing else. That’s it.
Shit! Why can’t I stick to the fucking plan, then? Every time I think about her leaving in a week—or two, if I’m lucky—my stomach does this out-of-practice flip. It reminds me that somewhere inside, I don’t want her to go back to Chicago. But how would that work? How could she stay here? She doesn’t live here. Her apartment and her job are in Chicago.
It takes me about twenty times the amount of time to clean up as it did to perform the stunt. Showered and shaved, I head in search of Jay, finding her in her makeshift office. I enter the room and kick the door closed behind me, ready to do some mending. I need her body back to wanting me again like last night.
She looks up from the laptop. Her large blue eyes swoop down my body, pausing here and there for a thorough inspection.
“You didn’t stay to watch the stunt?”
“I caught it on replay. Nice job.” She stands up, rounds the desk, and stops in front of me.
“Thanks.” My eyes drop to her mouth. Our bodies vacuum the heat from the room, sucking it all around us. “You left early this morning?”
“Yes.” She places her palm on my chest. My heart beats hard like it’s trying to tap her fingers from the inside out. My eyes remain fixed on her mouth. “I had to go back to my hotel to shower.” Her hand descends my heated body. Her lips sway toward me, taunting me.
Time to stop the tease.
I catch her mouth with mine. Our tongues slide past each other as our lips melt into one. When we kiss, it’s like I didn’t know what I was doing until my mouth met hers. It’s not the kind of kiss you create with just anyone. It feels uncalculated, uncontrolled, yet exclusive.
Her hand reaches into my pants. She wraps her warm fingers around me. “Fuck.” I gasp into her mouth. “Wasn’t expecting this when I came in here.”
“No?” She bites my bottom lip. Damn, that shit
’s hot. “What were you expecting?” Her hand slips down farther, cupping my firm balls. My skin tightens around my boner as the rest of my flesh springs to life with goose bumps. She presses me back against the wall.
“Well, for starters, I thought I’d be handing out some discipline for the way you acted out there about my stunt.”
“Ah, so you were thinking about spanking me again?” She palms my cock and gives it a nice long stroke.
Damn! I didn’t think my dick could get any harder, but hell, it just did, and that shit hurts, the “I need release, motherfucker” kind of hurt.
“Not until now, but just so we’re clear, that little slap I gave you last night? That’d be nothing compared to what I’d do if you were a bad girl.”
“And what”—she cups my balls and squeezes—“consists of me”—she squeezes a little harder—“being a bad girl?”
I’m gonna come. Right here, in her office, in her hand, I’m going to blow my load. Teeth clenched tight, I grip her neck and pull her to me. “Mercy,” I whisper against her mouth.
“What?” Her eyes pop open.
“Yeah, that’s right, missy.” I grab her wrist and pull her hand from my pants. “That word works both ways, and while this might be fun, I’m not going to fuck you on some old metal desk.”
Her brow hitches. “Too daring, Mr. Kane?”
“No.” I chuckle. “Just not gonna take you for the first time on that thing.” I nod at the shitty metal desk.
“Oh … take me?” She smiles with a playful giggle.
“Yes. Take you, I will, Miss Rigsby.” I slip my hand into my pants for a readjust. “The when and where, well, now that’s up to you.” I tap her under the chin with the very fingers I just used to readjust my dick.
“Oh, I get it. Just not now and not on that?” She thumbs the desk, her eyes still stationed between my legs.
“Exactly.” I smile, cock pressing against my pants and begging for her hand back. Damn, I want her.
“Hmm …” She looks up. “You’re not really leaving it up to me then, are you?” She places her palm again on my chest as if she owns it, owns me, and part of me is really digging it. The part, no doubt, that’s going to get my heart into trouble.
“Not true. I could’ve taken you a long time ago, but I’ve been waiting.” We’ve been waiting—me and my cock.
“Foooorrrr?” Her head shifts slightly to the left with emphasis on the word as her free hand slides softly across my chest.
“For you to stop thinking about him whenever I touch you.”
Her hand snaps back. “I don’t think about … I couldn’t imagine …” She steps back from me, and I release her wrist. “You’re not like him. You’re different.”
“Different?” I lean against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. “Now you have my interest piqued. How am I different?”
“I don’t know. He was familiar.” She hesitates, and I wait, watching her rub her arm. Her eyes meet my patient ones. I can’t help it. I know that I’m being a dick here, wanting to know how I compare to a dead guy, but I need to know.
She throws a hand in the air. “Let me see, how can I explain it.” She paces the room for a few seconds, allowing my cock to settle nicely back into the crotch of my pants. “He was like slippers, and you’re like high heels. He was comfortable and normal where you’re fresh and risky. So, when you touch me, I can assure you it is only you that I feel.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. I’m not questioning the way I make you feel. I’m talking about the guilt.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “I’m sorry … it’s just … I … ah,” she says, unable to prompt an excuse.
“Hey, it’s okay. You loved him. I know you’re not trying to find love here, but you do need somethin’ from me, Jay. And I’m more than willing to give it. It’s not that I won’t benefit from our little arrangement, but we both have to be ready. We know that I’m ready; the question remains, are you?”
“I think I just proved that I am.” She smiles.
“Okay.” I nod, inspecting her steadfast expression. “All right, then come to my place tonight, say around nine, and you can show me on my nice soft bed just how ready you are.”
“Fine!” She lifts her chin. “See you then …”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Miranda’s dead …
Three days ago, those two words stole me from Steele in bright and sunny California and brought me back to Trevor in dark and cloudy New York. Damn you, Miranda! Even from the grave, she’s still punishing me for what I did to her.
Standing dressed in a black suit, dark tie, and crisp white shirt, looking ten years older than when I last saw him, Rick has his head bowed, eyes fastened to the casket where his wife of twenty-nine years lays to rest. He’s breaking my heart. He has now lost everyone he loves. Guilt grabs a fistful of my belly, and my eyes well up. I dab them with a crumpled tissue, glad my parents decided to attend the wake and not the burial. I couldn’t deal with them right now. There are enough watchful eyes on me already. I haven’t been to Yorkshire since the last burial I attended here.
“Oh, my God,” Lucy whispers into my ear. “Look, it’s Natalie Dixon.” My eyes follow Lucy’s to our high school prom queen’s small, perfect face in the crowd. With large blue eyes and long blond hair, she still looks good. “Ohh,” Lucy hisses. “Ever since that bitch told everyone that Trev made out with her under the bleachers right after the two of you started dating, I’ve hated her. Remember? It almost split you guys up.” Lucy grabs my hand. “I swear, Jay, every time she comes into the diner, I make sure she gets the oldest piece of pie. Like Auntie Ruth always said, a little mold never killed anyone.”
“What’s she doing here?” It’s a stupid question. Everyone knows everyone in Yorkshire, population 4000. Still, my faithful childhood friend tries to offer me an excuse.
“She’s dating Trev’s cousin, Christian Brown. He’s Miranda’s sister, Annette Phelps’ son.”
“Oh.” I glance at Rick. His lifeless, flat dark eyes glare back at me, so I quickly look away. The fist in my stomach squeezes tighter. Why’d I come? I should’ve just sent flowers or something, but I couldn’t. I was a part of this family. Miranda was like a mother to me until I took everything from her and Rick. Trying to think of something else, I turn to Lucy. “Didn’t Auntie Ruth die from salmonella?”
“Technically, she died from renal failure, but she didn’t get the infection that took her to the hospital from bad pie. No. She got it from Stan Griffin’s dirty eggs. Uncle Peter couldn’t prove it when Auntie Ruth died, but Stan Griffin got his own. Remember, two years later, his tractor ate him up whole?”
“Oh yeah.” I laugh. It’s not funny, but Lucy has a way of turning sad situations into comical ones. I wish she could’ve been there for me longer after Trevor died, but she’d inherited the diner a few months prior. She had to get back to New York and settle her affairs.
The priest finishes with his prayer, and everyone begins to stir, offering words of condolences and sympathetic hugs. Natalie with her perfect hair and big blue eyes pushes through the crowd. Her round, pregnant stomach bounces into the spotlight like a reminder of what I was never destined to have. The hand gripping my belly reaches up to my heart and latches its greedy, selfish, future-destroying fingers around my empty, loveless organ and squeezes a single tear from my burning eyes. When Lucy spots Natalie and that single tear, her hold tightens on my hand.
“Did you use the birthday gift I sent you yet?”
A loud laugh spurts from me, making a few heads turn. I slap a hand over my mouth and look at Lucy. Lips tight but cheeks high, she looks just like she did the time she tossed a roll of toilet paper in English class on the floor, and it bounced off Mrs. Beam’s three-inch heels.
“About that … I ended up in the emergency room because of it.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I twisted my ankle and had to go to the ER.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, attempting to keep a straight face.
“So you hated the gift?”
Trying to pay no heed to the heads that turned from our laughter, I take a moment to think about that night. It was the first day I met Steele.
It’s only been three days, but oddly enough, I miss him and feel bad for not telling him why I stood him up. I was ready. I wanted him. I was prepared to get over the past and move forward, but all that got lost when Lucy called about Miranda. I booked a flight, packed, and headed right for the airport. I called work while I was waiting to board the plane, and they were understanding. I thought about calling Steele the morning after I arrived, but there was breakfast with the parents, then dinner and drinks with Lucy, the next day to recoup from dinner and drinks, and before I knew it … Well, here I stand all eyes on me and the forever laughing Lucy. Nothing ever changes.
I turn to my ever so faithful friend with a smile. “I liked the gift.”
“You did!” Her gray eyes flicker with joy. “Good ’cause next year, I thought we’d go to the Figtree Cove resort for a long weekend.”