Dead Pretty

by Samantha Towle

  Nope. I refuse to let my mind veer down that path tonight.

  I’ve had a nice time with Jack.

  I’m not letting my past take that from me as well.

  Jack steers his bike into his usual parking spot outside of our building and turns off the engine.

  Holding on to Jack’s arms, I clamber off the bike and manage to undo and get the helmet off for the first time on my own, pulling the beanie off with it.

  I retrieve it from the inside of the helmet and offer it back to Jack.

  Climbing off the bike with his usual grace, he takes it from me and puts it in the helmet bag along with his own helmet.

  “What should I do with this one?” I ask him.

  “Keep it,” he tells me.

  “Keep it?”

  “Yeah. It’s yours. I bought it for you.”

  “But …”

  His hand cups my cheek, his thumb resting over my lips. “It’s yours.” He smiles. “It’s my way of making sure you ride with me again one day.”

  I’ll ride you if you want.

  Jesus, Audrey.

  Since when did I turn into a sex-starved nympho?

  Since Jack, apparently.

  “Okay.” It’s my turn to smile. “Well, thank you.”

  “No thanks needed.” He stares at me. His eyes darken. It … looks like he wants to kiss me.

  I want him to kiss me.

  I already know what it feels like to have Jack’s lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, and I want to feel it again.

  So very frigging badly.

  I would normally lick my lips, giving him the indication that I want what I think he wants, too, if it didn’t mean I would lick his thumb still resting against my lips. And licking his thumb would just be way too weird, even for me.

  So, I try to convey with my eyes that I want him to remove his thumb and replace it with his lips.

  Snowflakes start to fall again.

  Jack blinks and then glances up at the sky. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  He removes his hand from my face, and my skin instantly goes cold.

  I try not to sigh at the loss of both his hand and the kiss that never happened.

  Why didn’t he kiss me just then?

  Did I get that moment wrong?

  Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me at all, and it was all in my head.

  Or maybe I did actually manage to put him off me throughout the course of this date.

  Well, talking about death over dinner would do it.

  The pang of disappointment that hits my gut is hard, and it tells me everything I need to know about how I feel about this fact.

  Well, I have no one to blame but myself, and it’s probably for the best.

  And I’ll be sure to convey that message to my libido when I’m lying in bed later tonight. Horny and alone.

  For a girl who doesn’t want to feel anything anymore, especially not for a man, I’m doing a shit-as-hell job of keeping my hormones and emotions in check.

  Jack holds open the door to our building, allowing me through first. We walk up the stairs in silence.

  The quiet between us is beginning to put me on edge. Not knowing what he’s thinking. Not knowing what he’s going to say.

  Is he just going to walk me to my door, thank me for a nice evening, and then walk away?

  Ugh. Getting given the good-night handshake is going to be the worst.

  But in the end, it’d be the right thing.

  This thing with Jack would be a disaster.

  I’m a disaster. Hence the reason that I’ve spent the last six months distancing myself from everyone around me. Having a person in my life would not be a good idea. Especially not a man like Jack.

  I’m pretty much resigned by the time we reach my apartment door.

  I tug off my gloves, get my keys from my pocket, and unlock the door.

  Facing him, my fingers curled around the handle, I say, “So … thanks for today. I had fun.”

  “Me too,” he says, holding my stare.

  I press down on the handle, opening the door. “Well, good night then.”

  “Audrey.” The low baritone in his voice sends a shiver hurtling through my body.

  I turn back to him.

  “That’s not how this date ends.”

  My heart starts to pitter-patter in my chest. “No?”

  “No.”

  He steps into my space, and I suck in a breath.

  “So … how does it end?”

  Jack takes my head in his hands, tilting my face up to his. “It doesn’t. It starts with a kiss.”

  He covers my lips with his.

  It’s like a bomb detonates around us, the force shoving us together.

  There is something electric between Jack and me. Something confusing and scary and exhilarating.

  Something I don’t know how to control. How to stop. Or if I even want to.

  I have never wanted anyone the way I want him.

  My fingers thread into his hair. He groans against my mouth.

  I press my body to his in response.

  His tongue slides between my lips, into my mouth, and all of my synapses fry.

  Distantly, I hear the click of a door opening. Then, I’m moving backward.

  Jack picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist.

  The door shuts, and my back is pressed up against it.

  The kiss is raw, electric. It has the sweetness of anticipation and the sharpness of desperation.

  We’re tongues and teeth. Nipping, biting, sucking.

  We’re on a whole other level from our first kiss yesterday.

  Because I know, this time, Jack and I are going to have sex.

  His hands flex restlessly against my ass. Fingers gripping, grasping.

  I’m panting into his mouth, needing more of him. Wanting to feel him.

  There are too many clothes between us.

  I reach for the zipper on his jacket, yanking it down. I shove his jacket off his shoulders.

  Jack stops kissing me, putting me to my feet. I push his jacket the rest of the way off, hearing it drop to the floor.

  It’s only then that I register my apartment is dark. Only the moonlight coming from my living room windows gives a muted glow.

  It is surprising to me that I haven’t turned the light on yet. Being in the dark is not something I can usually cope with.

  But still, I don’t reach for the switch.

  Maybe having Jack here is comforting to me. Maybe he makes me feel safe.

  Or maybe I’m just so damn horny that all my other senses, fears, and worries have taken a backseat.

  Jack unwinds the scarf from around my neck. Then, he unzips my coat, taking his time. The sound is erotically loud in the silence of my apartment.

  Then, my coat is gone from my body.

  Jack stares down at me in the dark. Not touching me.

  My body is thrumming with anticipation. My breaths uneven.

  He lifts a hand. Fingertips gently skim the bare skin on my shoulder, revealed from my off-the-shoulder sweater.

  One of his fingers hooks on the straps of my tank and bra, curling around, tugging me even closer.

  My breasts crush up against his hard chest.

  Then, our mouths go at it again. Fusing together.

  The kiss goes from zero to sixty in less than a second.

  My hands fumble for his jeans.

  Jack grabs my hands, stopping me, pinning them and me back up against the door.

  He kisses my neck, his tongue sliding down along my collarbone, leaving a hot trail of desire in its wake.

  He releases my hands and takes hold of my braid. Winding it around his hand, he tugs me to his mouth, kissing me briefly but firmly.

  Then, he pulls the tie from the end of my hair. His fingers make quick work of freeing it.

  My eyes drift shut at the feel of his hands as they move over my head, my hair loose and flowing over my shoulders.

  He fingers a l
ock of it. “This is the first time I’ve seen your hair down.” His voice is thick, laced with desire and some other unnamed emotion. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps softly.

  I can tell that he means what he says.

  I know that even if nothing sexual happened with Jack and me tonight—well, aside from the fact that I might cry with frustration—I would know that he meant what he said in this moment.

  And it causes an ache in my chest.

  Because he hasn’t seen me.

  Not all of me.

  He doesn’t know the real me.

  And if he did, he wouldn’t think that I was beautiful anymore.

  I have scars.

  Ugly scars that I can never get rid of.

  On my skin.

  And inside of my soul.

  I’m damaged.

  Physically and mentally.

  I am not beautiful. But right now, I so desperately want to be. For him more than myself.

  But I’ve seen the worst side of life, and I can never come back from that.

  There is no happy ending for me.

  But maybe I can have just this one moment with Jack.

  This single moment of peace.

  Where my mind is full of only him and the way he makes me feel.

  Jack pulls my sweater over my head, leaving me in my tank.

  He kisses me again, wrapping his arms around my waist, bringing my body back to his.

  My hips are restless, shifting. I need to feel him against me. Inside me.

  His hand moves lower to my ass. Grabbing hold, he yanks me against his erection, giving me the contact I so urgently need.

  I hear a hot gasp and realize it came from me.

  Jack sucks on my tongue, and I am putty in his hands.

  He circles his hips against mine, and I moan into his mouth. My fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands.

  I’m stuck between a solid door and a rock-hard body, and there is nowhere else I want to be right now than here.

  My hands roam, needing skin. I grapple with his sweater, tugging it up.

  Jack gets the message, letting me go so he can pull it over his head in that sexy way that he does.

  I admire him in the muted light. The hard lines of his chest. His hard-earned abs. The strip of dark hair that follows the sculpted V down into his jeans.

  I reach for his jeans, wanting them off. I tug open the button. Dragging the zipper down, I slide my hand inside, desperate to touch him.

  The part of him that I need inside me more than I need my next breath.

  My fingers slide into the waistband of his underwear, seeking.

  When my fingertips make contact with the head of his cock, Jack hisses a breath in between his teeth.

  My fingers graze down the soft skin of his rock-hard shaft before curling around his cock and giving it a squeeze.

  “Fuck,” Jack curses.

  His hand grabs the back of my head, bringing me back to his mouth, and he kisses the hell out of me.

  I start jacking him off, loving the low groans he makes into my mouth.

  The kiss moves from hot to frantic in seconds.

  His hands find my breasts, cupping them over my tank and bra beneath it.

  My nipples pebble against the drag of the fabric of my bra as he runs his thumb over one of them.

  The back of my head hits the wall. A sigh of pleasure escaping me.

  “You like that?” His low voice makes me hot in all the right places.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  The next thing I know, his hands take hold of the hem of my tank top, trying to lift it up, and that is when everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

  “No!” I yell, shoving his hands away from me.

  Jack practically jumps back from me, a look of surprise on his handsome face.

  And I can’t blame him. We went from sizzling hot to freezing cold in less than a second.

  “I’m sorry,” he starts, his hands going up in the air. “I—”

  “It’s not your fault,” I cut him off. Shame is coating me like thick black oil. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me … I can’t …” How the hell do I say this? How do I tell him that I can’t get naked with him from the waist up and not explain the reason?

  “You can’t what, Audrey?” His voice is soft, calm, measured. Like the way you would speak to a frightened animal.

  It makes me feel as pathetic as I know I am.

  I don’t know what to say. I stare down at the floor, trying to find the right words.

  But there are none.

  Jack takes a step closer, but he doesn’t reach for me.

  And I won’t lie. It hurts.

  I hate that I put this distance between us.

  That my past put this distance between us.

  “Nothing has to happen tonight. Not until you’re ready.”

  I look back up at him. “I am ready. I want you, but …”

  “Talk to me …” he urges softly.

  “I can’t …” I press a hand against the area just beneath my breasts, at the top of my stomach, where the ugliest physical part of me resides.

  I close my eyes and pull in a strengthening breath.

  Why didn’t I think of this before? That getting naked with him would be par for the course before having sex with him?

  Because I’m stupid.

  I was so blinded by lust because I wanted him so very badly that I didn’t think this out at all.

  Moron.

  “I can’t get naked with you. Well, the top half of me can’t.” I curl my fingers into my tank top, hating the feel of the lumpy skin beneath it. “My bottom half is fine.” God, I sound like a total fucktard. “And I can’t tell you why, so don’t bother asking me. I know that sounds harsh and weird, but it’s the way it is. And if you can’t deal with that, with the way things are … the way I am, then it’s fine. I totally understand, and I won’t take it personally. We can still be friends—if you want to be, of course,” I’m quick to add.

  Silence hits the room. The weight of my words settles into the distance between us.

  “Audrey … I can’t be friends with you.”

  Ouch.

  I was expecting it, but it still hurts.

  “It’s fine. I totally get it.” My eyes start searching out the location of my sweater. I need to cover up. Which is stupid because it’s not like I’m actually naked right now. If I were, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

  “No, you don’t.” The firmness of his tone brings my eyes straight back to his. “I can’t be friends with you, Audrey. Because it wouldn’t be possible. Not with the way I feel when I’m around you. Fuck. It’s been a struggle this far, not to touch you … kiss you. So, no, I’m not doing it again. You have something you can’t share with me? Fine. I accept that. Because honestly, Audrey, I will take you any way I can have you.”

  My heart is in my throat, trapped there along with any words I might say.

  All I can do is stare at him. My chest heaving up and down.

  I’m not sure who moves first. Him. Me. Who really cares?

  All I do know is that we crash back into each other. I’m in his arms. Our lips devouring. Hands roaming. Bodies melding.

  Jack and I seem to have two speeds only. Zero and sixty. We jump from one to the other in the blink of an eye.

  But I’m determined that we stay in the fast lane until zero is our only option because we’re both too blissed out to move.

  I’ve never had this type of passion with anyone ever. Sure, I’ve had lusty sex in my past. But nothing like what I’m feeling right now with Jack.

  I want him with the kind of hunger that could starve a whole goddamn city.

  Jack carries me through to my bedroom. He sets me down on the edge of the bed and comes down to his knees in front of me.

  Reaching for my bedside lamp, I turn it on, wanting to see him.

  The light glows off the golden skin of his chest. His eyes look so incredi
bly blue right now.

  “You’re stunning,” I tell him.

  He cups my cheek with his hand. “You’re stunning,” he says, voice raspy.

  I feel shy all of a sudden, my face heating.

  Jack rests back on his haunches and takes hold of one of my legs. Lifting it, he pulls my boot off and then my sock. He does the same with the other foot.

  His eyes meet back with mine.

  Then, his fingers begin unfastening my jeans.

  Pressing my hands to the bed, I raise my hips to allow him to remove them.

  He peels the jeans down my legs, leaving me in my panties.

  They’re black and lacy.

  I might have put a pair of my sexy, old-life-Audrey undies on—you know, just in case this moment with Jack did arise. I might have shaved every square inch of my body too.

  “Jesus,” he breathes. His eyes fixed on the spot between my legs.

  His hand runs up my smooth leg, reaching the top of my thigh. His fingers trace an invisible line to where I need him most. The tips of his fingers only just touching the edge of my panties.

  My body starts to shiver with need.

  Jack looks at me, and the expression in his eyes is … undiluted lust.

  No one has ever looked at me in such a way before. I feel like, right now, the only thing he sees is me.

  “I know … this stays …” His fingers give a light tug on the hem on my tank.

  Immediately, embarrassment and shame start to cover me.

  “Don’t.”

  I give him a confused look. “Don’t what?” I whisper.

  “Be self-conscious or whatever the fuck it is you’re feeling right now. It’s me, Audrey. You never have to feel either of those things with me. I just need to know the boundaries. Where I can and can’t touch you.”

  I lick my dry lips, swallowing. “You can … touch me everywhere … just not here.” I press my hand to the marred section of skin that sits beneath my breasts and above my belly button.

  “Okay.” He nods. “So, the boobs are mine.”

  The glint in his eyes has my own lips tugging upward.

  “All yours.” And to prove the point, I unsnap my bra through my tank. Pull the straps down my arms and tug it free from its confines.

  Jack leans forward and presses a kiss to my mouth. Then, he moves down, planting a kiss in the center of my chest.

  His hand comes up, cupping my breast through my tank. The contact is amazing. But I wish I could feel his skin on me.