by J. L. Beck
Watching him struggle to find the right words makes my heart beat up into my throat.
Happiness radiates deep inside me, pushing through the broken pieces. Knowing the Hero I fell in love with is still in there gives me hope. I nod, too overwhelmed with emotion to get a word out.
“Stand up,” he orders softly.
I eagerly comply. So eager, I make him chuckle with genuine laughter. With agile fingers, he dips into the waistband of my flannel pajamas and starts to pull them down.
His rough knuckles skim down my legs, leaving a burning trail of lava behind. So caught up in his touch and the fire building in my veins, I don’t even realize he’s pulling down my panties until the cool air hits my wet folds.
“Sit on my lap,” he whispers, leaving my clothes in a puddle by my feet.
I step out of them and climb onto his lap, straddling him so I can see his face. My knees rest against the cold leather and a shiver runs through me.
Hero reaches out, placing his hands on my knees. They remain there for a beat, then he starts moving them ever so slowly, dragging them up my thighs.
His thumbs glide along the inside of my thigh where the skin is so sensitive, it makes me giggle. Back and forth. Back and forth. Leaving one hand on my thigh, he moves the other closer and closer to my center.
My breath hitches as he finally reaches the destination. My body tightens. When the rough pad of his thumb touches my already swollen clit, I almost come.
He adds just a little pressure, and my hips start moving on their own. Grinding into him, wanting, needing more. “I need you,” I confess, looking into his eyes, hoping to see the same want. I need him to know how much truth is in my words and I’m scared to death to admit how much I need him.
“I know.” His voice is low and raw. He moves his hand, keeping his thumb on my clit while probing my entrance with the tip of his middle finger. “Are you sore?” he whispers, his breath fanning against my lips, beckoning me forward.
I think about it for a moment, testing his finger as it slides into me. Rocking my hips forward into his hand a little more, I feel little sparks of pain, but the need for him is too overwhelming, the pleasure he can give me outweighs any pain.
I want him so bad.
All of him—all the time.
“Please?” I whimper.
At my words, I watch his eyes turn a shade darker, then he slips his finger into me all the way.
My back arches, and a loud moan roars from my throat. I grab onto his shoulders, suddenly needing the support. My eyes want to close, but I force them to stay open. I want to see Hero. I want to see him for every moment of this. He keeps thrusting in and out of me while keeping pressure on my clit with his thumb.
I feel like I’m burning up from the inside out. Every fiber in my body is scorching, the flames burning me alive. I’m panting and moaning so loudly, I briefly wonder about the neighbors hearing me.
Hero stares back at me like I’m the only person in the whole world, and I wish nothing more than for him to always look at me this way.
The pressure deep inside me keeps building and building and I come to a point where I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. They squeeze shut as the sensations overwhelm my body. Waves of pleasure drown me, consume me, leaving me behind like a jellyfish washed up on the beach.
I lean forward, resting my clammy forehead against Hero’s as the last tremors run their course throughout my body. I sink blissfully into his warmth, his entire body encompassing mine. I try to open my eyes again, but the stupid things won’t work. I feel comfortable and tired, so damn tired.
Hours, or maybe even minutes tick by, and I’m faintly aware of Hero picking me up and carrying me somewhere.
My head falls into the softness of the pillow, and his manly scent washes over me as he places me on the bed.
He covers me with a blanket, his lips pressing faintly against my forehead. I want to ask him to stay, but I’m too far gone. Half my brain is already asleep, and in the next instant, so is the other half.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake up. The room is dark, and it takes me a moment to regain my bearings.
I frown. I’m in Hero’s bed, but it feels wrong without him here. The room is empty and cold, and I feel alone, so alone.
Remembering how he carried me to bed last night, I almost kick myself for being too tired to make him stay, or at least try to.
I throw the covers back, uncovering my legs, quickly realizing I’m bare from the belly down. Ugh, he must not have wanted to disturb me. Sneaking out into the living room on tiptoes, I grab my pajamas from the floor and slip them on.
Hero is laying on the couch, his eyes pinched closed, his breathing even.
I can’t help but stand there like a stalker and watch him sleep. The only light in the room shines in through the window, and though it's a small sliver, it’s enough for me to make out his well-defined chest as it rises and falls in an even rhythm.
I nibble on my bottom lip, quietly shuffling back and forth on my feet. My eyes never leave his sleeping form.
I wonder if I could lie down without him waking up. I know he said it couldn't happen again, this whole sleeping together thing, but I need him. I need his touch, his warmth. Holding my breath, I crawl on top of him as gently and quietly as possible, just as I did the night before.
He stirs slightly, and I freeze, my muscles tensing, the air in my lungs stilling. I hear him mumble something in his sleep, but can’t make out what he’s saying.
Once I’m sure he’s back in a deep sleep, I lay my head down all the way, until my cheek is pressed flat against his chest.
My eyes close at the calming sound of his beating heart. I take a deep, slow breath. The mixture of Hero’s shower gel and his own unique scent rushes through my nose, filling in the final missing piece.
This is it. I’m home.
Chapter Fifteen
Hero
I don’t dream often, and when I do, it’s mostly nightmares about the night I took my stepfather's life. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I’m dreaming about my sweet Elyse. In my dream, we’re happy and worry-free, holding hands, kissing, laughing…
We’re together.
We are outside, walking on a sunny day. The air is sticky. Her hair shimmers golden in the sunlight, and her skin glows with happiness. I tell a joke, making her giggle, and can’t help but pull her into my arms and hold her tightly to my chest. Closing my eyes, I bury my face into the crook of her neck and breathe her essence in. Her flowery smelling hair tickles my nose as I do.
When I open my eyes again, her giggles have vanished, and the sunny outdoor scenery is replaced with the dull backdrop of my living room ceiling.
The only thing that remains the same is Elyse in my arms. Her small, warm body molded to mine, her head using my chest as a pillow. She must have snuck back in here sometime last night. I can’t believe I didn’t wake up. I should wake her up or carry her back to the bed. This is bad. I’ve already let this go way too far. I need to make her understand we need to keep a distance between us.
Glancing down at her half-covered face, looking like an angel, I can’t bring myself to wake her up. I watch her sleep for almost an hour…and could have watched a few hours more.
Her breathing changes, and she stirs on top of me, stretching her sleepy limbs and rubbing her leg against my already stiff dick.
“I really need you to get off me…” Before I bend you over the couch and fuck you senseless.
“What’s wrong?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
Is she trying to play fucking innocent with me, like she doesn't really know what she’s doing? I push her up with me so we can both sit instead of laying on top of one another. “You can’t keep doing this, okay?” I try to keep my voice calm, not wanting to yell at her first thing in the morning. Hell, if I had it my way, I'd never yell at her, but she keeps pushing me, testing my damn boundaries.
“Why can’t we sleep together in the bed?”
she deadpans, as if I hadn't already told her why.
“I already explained this to you. I told you what this was from the very beginning. Only sex, no cuddling after, no emotional shit. Nothing.” Now, I’m pissed. Why is she making this so hard? Why can’t she just listen to me? I want to throttle her, shake her until it all makes sense to her.
Before I can, she shakes her head at me, dismissing my words as if she never heard them. “Stop! Stop pretending like there’s nothing between us and this doesn’t mean anything to you.” She gestures to the space between us. “Stop pretending I don’t mean anything to you.” Defeat coats her words.
“You don’t…” Saying the words hurts so fucking much, but I force them out anyway and continue digging my own grave. “You mean nothing to me, Elyse. Nothing. How many times do I need to tell you this before you get it into your head? Or are you just too fucking stupid to understand?”
The air between us sizzles. I know I’ve made a mistake the moment I see her tiny hand headed toward my face. I don’t even have a chance to brace for the slap.
The flat of her palm connects with my cheek and the sound of skin slapping skin resonates through the room. My cheek burns and stings upon impact.
Her slap may have hurt, but nothing hurts more than the look in her eyes.
Fury and sadness reflect back at me as the next words fall from her lips. “You think this is what your mom would have wanted for you? You pretending to be an asshole so you can hide your real feelings? You think she would’ve wanted this life for you? To treat me this way?” The tears swim in her eyes, but she’s strong, stronger than I’ve ever seen her.
Well, she’s going to need to be stronger if she wants to win this. “My mother is dead, so I don’t think often about what she would think of me, and even if she were alive, it’s not like it would matter. I killed a man in cold blood, Elyse. I literally beat the shit out of him with my bare hands and strangled him until he stopped breathing. I highly doubt she would bat an eyelash at the way I’m treating you now.” My voice is neutral even though I’m dying on the inside, one single sliver away from breaking down and apologizing.
Elyse doesn’t deserve this treatment, not after growing up the way she did. She needs love, affection, a man worthy of her time, and I am not him. The little shit show with Damon proved that much.
I’m going one way, and she’s going another.
“Well…” she hiccups, and I pray to god she doesn’t start crying. I’m already clenching my fists so tight, the muscles ache. The last thing I need is to fucking lash out and break something, and that will happen if she starts crying.
“I think your mom would expect more from you, and I think if she were here, she’d want you to be happy. You protected her, you were her hero, and now…” She pauses briefly, her chest heaving. “Now, you’re mine. Even if you don’t want to be, you’re mine.”
I can’t do this with her—I can’t. Shoving from the couch, I stride across the room with purpose, my fist begging for something to hit. I walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter, my thoughts swirling...all of them about Elyse.
Do I push her away?
Do I pull her in?
I slam my closed fist on the counter. My body shakes, my nails biting into my palm as I try to get a grip on reality. The sound of my cell phone ringing off in the distance pulls me from my manic thoughts.
I rush into my bedroom and pluck the device up off the dresser, pressing the answer key as soon as I see Damon’s name scroll across the screen.
“Hey. What’s up?” he chimes, his voice casual, cool, calm.
“Hey. You get my message?” I try to hide the anger in my voice.
“Yeah. What’s up?” He’s acting all nonchalant, and it’s only fucking with my temper more.
“I’m going to meet you at the warehouse tonight. I don’t want to talk about it over the phone,” I lie. When I ask Damon about Elyse, I need to look him in the eyes.
“Warehouse? Let's meet at Night Shift instead. I've got business to attend to there, so it will make it easier for both of us.” I don’t know how Elyse will feel about going to a strip club, but she’s just going to have to suck it up. If this is the only place Damon is willing to meet, so be it.
“Cool. See you there at ten.” I hang up the phone and turn to Elyse, curiously eyeing me from across the room. “Ever been to a strip club?” I ask, like I don’t already know the answer.
Chapter Sixteen
Elyse
“Ever been to a strip club?” Hero’s voice mocks in my head all day long. He’s cranky and irritable while he does everything he can to avoid me, which is pretty damn hard when we’re in the same house. I try to forget about my confession, forget about the feelings spiraling out of control inside me.
I force myself to remain in Hero’s bedroom most of the day, my books and homework sprawled out on his bed. I immerse myself in my studies so I don’t start crying—or worse, get into another argument with him.
I’m working on putting study guide cards together when Hero appears in the doorway with a paper plate in his hand.
He looks mouthwatering. His midnight black hair is disheveled, his eyes are a soft green instead of their usual dark green, and he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt—a t-shirt that clings to his perfectly sculpted body.
“Hungry?” he asks gruffly.
I don’t say anything, even though my stomach has been grumbling for the last two hours. “Sure.” I shrug.
He walks into the bedroom, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed, his eyes moving over all the books and papers sitting on it. He pauses for a long time before extending the paper plate out to me.
I eye the contents of the plate curiously. A sandwich and a bag of chips.
“Sorry. I’m not much of a cook, and we don’t have a lot of time. A sandwich it is.”
I don’t complain, food is food. Plus, Hero made it. “It’s fine. Thank you.” I give him a sad smile and redirect my attention to my books. Having him this close makes my heart beat faster, saliva in my mouth pool, and ignites the fire in my belly.
He’s got a hold on me, and it consumes my every thought. The idea that this might be my last night here saddens me more than I care to let on. He’s pushing me away, weaseling distance between us slowly, and I miss him so much, it kills me.
I pick at the sandwich, my appetite evaporating into thin air. I want to cry. I want to slap him and knock the sense back into him. But it doesn’t matter. It won’t work. I think about my options, about the things my parents want from me, about what I want.
Hero interrupts my thoughts by pulling his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the screen for half a second, then shoves it back into his pocket, his eyes lifting to mine. “Hate to cut your eating short, but we’ve got to get going.”
I nod, swallowing the small bite of food still in my mouth. I stack my books up and close my notebook before moving off the bed. Then I look down at my clothes. “Is this okay to wear?” I ask.
Hero’s gaze sweeps over me. It’s possessive, hungry, and I’d bet anything if I touched him right now, he’d melt beneath my touch.
“It’s fine. We’re going for business, Elyse, not pleasure. Unless you’d like me to leave you there and you can work something out with Damon on your own.”
I blink, not sure what Damon has to do with all this. He says talking to Damon will help determine if someone is watching me, but I don’t understand how. Is he with the FBI? A private agent? Why is this guy so special? Then, it hits me. I never once figured out who that guy Hero was helping was…or the guy slumped over in the chair.
The questions linger on my tongue.
“I don’t even want to go, let alone be left there.”
“Well, you are, so get your fucking shoes on and head toward the door.”
Half of me wants to fight him while the other half just wants to comply. I know what’s going to happen after all this is done, and I’m dreading it.
As if Hero ca
n read my mind, he takes a warning step toward me. Am I supposed to be afraid of him? “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Just do what I tell you to. Keep your mouth fucking shut and nothing bad will happen.”
I cross my arms over my chest, staring him down, refusing to let him treat me like dirt. “And what if I don’t, then what happens?”
He remains very still. The air between us sizzles. It’s so hot, I can feel it zinging against my skin.
Hero is tense, angry, and...it turns me on.
“Death. Rape. I don’t fucking know, Elyse. But there is more to this than you and me. If you want to make it out of his alive, you’ll listen to me…”
I gulp around the bubble of fear forming in my throat.
Death? Rape? How deep does this go? What has Hero gotten himself into? I knew he was dark and had a past, that he was hiding things, but now, I’m reconsidering everything. He keeps pushing me, farther and farther away, claiming it’s what’s best for me, and for so long, I’ve told him it isn’t.
But maybe he’s right—maybe he’s been right all along.
***
We pull into the parking lot of Night Shift. I only know this because of the half-lit neon sign that hangs on the front of the building. The place makes bile rise into my throat and my stomach churn. I think I might puke. I fidget with my hands as Hero kills the engine. I’ve never been to such a vulgar place.
He shifts in his seat to face me. It’s so dark outside, it makes it hard to see him.
“I can see your nervousness from a mile away, and they will too. Stop fidgeting, take some deep breaths, and calm down.”
I do as he says, but the air refuses to enter my lungs. It feels like everything is tightening, disallowing to let even a single molecule of air in. “Do I have to go in? I can just stay out here and wait for you.” My voice is filled with worry, my thoughts consumed with the fact that this might be the last time I’m alive. Why would Hero bring me here? Why would he subject me to this?