Poison

by West, Jade

  She gave it, but she had mine right back.

  Jesus Christ, she had mine right back.

  We were both fucking doomed, finding each other in one unholy mess of pure life carnage with no way on this earth we’d ever negotiate the fallout. Ghosts of a former life that consumed us both amongst a shitstorm of pain, and regret, and bullshit.

  If only there was just a sliver of light left between us – a chance to fix that beautiful spark we’d had so strong, so long ago. But I didn’t feel one. Not from Anna. Not as that song played loud.

  I spun her away from me with a grunt and wrapped my arm snug around her neck. She rested her head back against my shoulder and breathed heavy against my grip, and I moved for the both of us, rocking to the pulse of the music and sliding my fingers right down to her sacred spot.

  Again.

  She’d come for me again.

  She shuddered and tried to buck away but I wouldn’t let her. I kissed her temple and held my mouth pressed tight.

  She stumbled on trembling legs, and her hands reached back to steady herself, her weight holding itself up with mine. And as the song reached its climax, she did too.

  It was pure fucking magic.

  My filthy little minx lost every tiny scrap of restraint her body had left and cried out for me, her throat humming against my arm as her nails dug into my hips.

  I loved her like that.

  I’d always loved her like that.

  I’d always loved every little scrap of her soul with every scrap of mine, I’d just been too much of a prick to ever deserve her.

  She came down as the music changed, and she didn’t start up again, just moved away from me with ragged breaths and took a cigarette straight from the pack.

  The song was real to her. The pain was real to her. I could see it all over her face.

  I opened another prosecco and took a swig from the bottle, then turned the volume down on the stereo and waited for her to speak.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she said, stating the obvious.

  “I shouldn’t be drinking wine from the bottle,” I replied, stating the obvious. “But I want it.”

  She took a long drag and turned away from me.

  “Shall we talk about it?” I asked. “Cover some damn fucking ground that’s been churned up for a decade?”

  She held a hand up. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t want to talk about shit with you.”

  I chanced it. I closed the distance and wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, but this time there was no quest for her clit in my motives, just the solid press of my skin to hers.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and she tensed. “I’d have said it a thousand times already, but I couldn’t.”

  “Stop,” she hissed, and tried to tug away from me, but I held on tight.

  “Just let me say it.”

  “I don’t want you to say it,” she snapped. “I don’t want you to say anything, I just want your fucking dick.”

  There was an unwarranted pang in my gut at the coldness in her voice. She wrenched herself free until her eyes were on mine, then carried on.

  “Believe me, Lucas. I like your dick a hell of a lot more than I like you.”

  I took a cigarette out of the pack. “Fine. Have my dick all you like, just know that I’m sorry.”

  “A one off,” she said. “This is a one off, remember?”

  I laughed. “This is already a two off, remember?”

  She didn’t laugh along with me. “It’s a very long one off. This weekend and then it’s see you later. Farewell. Enjoy the next decade.”

  I don’t think either of us truly believed that, but she wanted to. I didn’t fight her resolve, just shrugged.

  “Sure thing. We’d better make the most of it then, hadn’t we?”

  But she was done. Spent and bristling and fighting off whatever burst of hurt was blooming down deep. I’d no doubt there would be a lot of it.

  “Take me home, please,” she asked, but I shook my head.

  “Sorry, but I can’t take you home after a fuck ton of wine.”

  “Call me a taxi, then,” she pushed, but I shrugged again.

  “It’s expensive and pointless. I’ll take you home in the morning, I’m on my way in anyway, just rest up a few hours.”

  “Ah, yes,” she said. “Some massive high flyer at GCHQ now, aren’t you? You must be there for about four a.m.”

  “I’m a director of security and cryptography. Hardly some massive high flyer, and hardly four a.m.”

  She stubbed her cigarette out and filled her sports flask up with water. I watched her fingers fumble with her bag from the floor and pull out a tray of tablets.

  My gut struck up with another pang, and my words kept on coming.

  “What’s going on with your epilepsy?” I asked her. “How long have you been having it?”

  She smirked but shook her head. I didn’t get the humour in it.

  “Like you give a shit about my epilepsy.”

  But I did. I gave one hell of a shit about her epilepsy.

  She was guarded to the max, that thick shell of her, and I hated it. I hated every scrap of protection around the most beautiful parts of Anna Blackwell and her stunning, addictive soul.

  “Fine, don’t call me a taxi,” she cut off before I could carry on with my thread. “Let’s just fuck off to bed and you can drop me home in the morning before the world is awake enough to see us together.”

  At least she’d be in my bed for the night.

  She took her meds and I let the dogs out, then grabbed myself a water and got the lights on the way upstairs.

  I noticed how she turned her head to stare for a few seconds at one of Millie’s Daddy paintings stuck to the wall and cursed inside that she wouldn’t let me open up to her about the whys and the wherefores, not even a little.

  I washed up in the bathroom, hoping she would join me, but she didn’t. She held back until I was finished then took her own turn. I was already sitting up in bed when she came through, armed ready with her bottle of water for the bedside table when she threw the covers back on the other side and climbed on in.

  “Goodnight,” I said, but she said nothing, just settled down with her back to me.

  I flicked the lamp switch off, then couldn’t sleep, churning over things to say and staring at the ceiling like a total moron, lost. I despised myself for my fucked up life choices, and despised the universe along with me for how one fucking mistake can cost you everything, snowballing like an acorn on Everest until your whole existence is smashed beyond reason.

  Fuck me, how that snowball had kept on rolling.

  Fuck me, how I wished I could really apologise for it and have her listen.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, quietly, knowing full well she was still listening, bristling just as hard in the darkness as I was.

  “Sorry means shit,” she said back. “It will never mean anything from you. Not to anyone else anyway, even if it ever did to me.”

  She was right on that front. I couldn’t imagine anyone in her entire circle ever doing anything but spitting in my face before trying to stab me.

  I heard her sigh. “Not that it will ever mean shit to me, either. It won’t.”

  She must have finally been half asleep when she inched her way closer and laid her head on my chest. I was anything but half asleep as I shuffled down and pulled her closer, pressing my lips to her hair and breathing her in.

  “I’m sorry, Anna,” I said, one last time, but this time it was a whisper.

  And this time she was breathing so deep and so steady there was no way she’d ever hear it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna

  The room was barely lit – just a dull orange glow of light shining through from the landing. Still, it was enough to make out the obvious. There was no sign of Lucas.

  The other half of the bed was empty, covers tossed back in my direction, just me alone in his silent bedroom before sunrise.


  I didn’t expect to be alone in his silent bedroom before sunrise.

  Along came a flood of dread that him bailing from the bedcovers was due to a flood of piss between my legs, but no. I patted down the sheets underneath me and found them dry. No seizures in the night. At least I could hold on to what tattered scrap of dignity I had left around the man who’d destroyed it in the first place.

  I found him downstairs making coffee at the kitchen counter with a cigarette in his mouth, already suited and groomed for the day ahead, and seemingly immune to the hangover from the decent volume of wine he’d guzzled the night before.

  I felt anything but immune to anything as I stared over at the creature who’d torn my heart to shreds and yet still managed to get me off ten times in a row.

  “Breakfast? Coffee?” he asked, but I shook my head, wrapping myself tighter in the robe I’d taken from behind his bathroom door.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, and took a sip of his drink.

  Silence.

  We both stood in stupid silence, his stare on me, while I cast my eyes around anything in the room that wasn’t him.

  He didn’t try to make conversation to ease the tension. Small talk wasn’t high on his agenda seemingly. Just as well since it had no place whatsoever on mine.

  “We need to be out of here soon,” he said, finally, and gestured to the wall clock. “Monday morning is calling me loud and clear.”

  “Ditto,” I replied. “I’ve got plenty to be doing, too.”

  But I didn’t move as he got on with kitchen duties, glued to the spot like a stupid mute fool, blindsided by the way that stunning creature went about his regular life.

  I watched him pet his dogs and grin at them, then put some toast in the toaster. I watched him clean down the countertops and shove a few plates in the dishwasher, and there he was. The man I’d fallen in love with. Mannerisms, and breaths, and expressions. The bounce in his step as he crossed the kitchen to the back door and let the dogs out into the garden.

  I knew this man.

  I knew his usual bright-eyed morning brilliance.

  I knew the way he clicked his tongue and whistled to call the dogs back inside again once they’d done their business.

  I knew the way he wriggled his tie into position and smoothed down his jacket once he’d laced his feet into his brogues, ready for the outside world.

  I knew everything about him, because I’d known everything about him. He was still him. The same Lucas Pierce who’d captivated me from the beginning.

  With that realisation came a nagging little twist in my belly – a gust of something far deeper than words. Something way beyond my control. Way beyond anything I’d ever want to feel in a thousand years.

  Please, universe, no.

  Please, brain, get a goddamn grip.

  But I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t even hide it from the part of myself screaming for his blood and his tears and the battering retribution for all the tears he’d given me.

  That twist in my belly was stating the very damn obvious.

  I didn’t want it to be time to go soon. Not from Lucas Pierce and his stunning dick and his stunning countryside bolthole. Monday morning could get stuffed, because I wasn’t ready.

  I wasn’t ready for this one off to be over.

  “Sure I can’t tempt you with breakfast?” he asked again, when he noticed I was still standing there staring over like an idiot.

  It was enough to snap me out of my immediate stupor.

  “No, thanks,” I repeated. “I’m not hungry.”

  I wasn’t lying on that score. I wasn’t hungry, and I didn’t want any breakfast from that asshole. I should never have taken anything from him in this place, especially not his cock. It was my own fault for being led so easily by my bleating little clit.

  I should have told him he was a prick all over again and come to my senses, but I didn’t. In the cold light of morning, as it dared to peep its face through the kitchen window, I forced a smile at his hospitality. Manners cost nothing, after all.

  He flashed me a smile right back, both of us hovering there with this awkward hint of a grin on our faces. Paper thin on both sides. A pathetic little veneer hiding a whole churn of bullshit highs and lows.

  So much unspoken.

  So much that would never be spoken in this lifetime.

  It was time to end this shitstorm for good.

  I told him I’d get my things together and bolted away upstairs. Collecting my crap was an easy mission. There was only a stupid scrappy tennis outfit minus the lace thong to dress myself in, and a bag crammed with makeup, and my meds, and a sports bottle I filled back up with water in the bathroom. I popped my lamotrigine pills from the packet and washed them down, then cursed myself as I realised my phone was dead to the world. Flat out of battery.

  Clearly, I hadn’t entirely planned on being here overnight again. If I had, I would have packed my damn charger. And my toothbrush.

  I didn’t bother with makeup, but I did smooth my hair down as well as I could before getting set to step back into my regular life. I cast myself one final sigh in the mirror, then trekked back down to my nemesis with a newfound determination that this was really it. Party over.

  He’d finished up his coffee and dumped the mug into the dishwasher by the time he noticed me in the kitchen doorway wearing the same skimpy shorts as the day before.

  “Nice,” he said, and gave me a smirk. “Fancy a rematch?”

  “Don’t even go there,” I replied, and he shrugged.

  He sorted the dogs and grabbed his coat, just a regular morning for a regular guy heading into the office. But it was anything but a regular morning for me.

  My heart was aching fresh for the life I’d been devastated to lose, but was now crying out to a whole new tune along with it.

  The scribbled daddy pictures taped to the wall upstairs had slammed me deep and hard.

  Knowing he’d put a ring on someone else’s finger was still enough to make me feel queasy now that he was right beside me in person.

  I hated it. I hated that I gave even the slightest shit about any of it.

  “Ready to go, then?” he asked, and I nodded.

  I didn’t say anything as he said goodbye to his dogs and headed on out to the truck, just followed him and clipped myself in. I stared out of the window when he put the radio on, assuring myself that this was really still a nothing whatsoever. Just a stupid sex splurge. Just me seeking out a decent orgasm and not a scrap more. My mind was firmly churning on that when his voice cut over the radio.

  “You do know I jerked one off in those dirty white panties this morning, I hope. Very nice.”

  I shot him a glance to find him smirking, That usual filthy stare of his eating me up like a whore.

  “You’re welcome to them,” I said, and forced myself to look back out of the window.

  “I’d prefer them considerably more if you were wearing them,” he told me, but I didn’t respond, just gave him a turn left here and pointed him towards the city centre.

  I directed him to my street, gesturing he should park up far enough along from my apartment entrance that nobody would stand a chance of seeing us. He pulled up, then turned in his seat to face me, eyes burning hard with that same filthy stare.

  All he found waiting was another fake smile on my face.

  “Thanks for a great one off,” I told him.

  He tipped his head. “This is really a one off?”

  I dropped down from the truck before I answered.

  “Yes, Lucas. This is really a one off. Enjoy your next decade.”

  I daren’t risk looking at him, just slammed that passenger door shut behind me and started walking. My heart was thumping, belly twisting, but I kept on moving, step by step, determined to get my head straight and leave that asshole behind where he belonged.

  I thought I’d almost made it. I could see my apartment entrance when his voice called out across the street
.

  “Anna, just stop and bloody wait a minute, will you? At least let’s fucking talk about it.”

  But I couldn’t.

  I daren’t.

  I wasn’t sure where that minute would ever stop for me if it started.

  It was a huge relief when I reached my apartment doorway. I let out a sigh and threw myself into our communal hallway, dashing upstairs like the place was some kind of safe haven from Lucas Pierce cravings.

  It wasn’t. I still felt them every bit as strongly as I ditched my bag onto the coffee table and opted to head straight through to the shower. If only I could scrub my brain down in the same foamy wash as the rest of me and get him away from my thoughts as well as my skin.

  As it turns out, I didn’t make it that far.

  Vicky was already up and in the kitchen, dressed in her work uniform with her blonde curly hair swept up in a bun for her checkout duties. She was chomping down on a piece of toast with her phone in her hand as I walked on through.

  Until she saw me.

  Her eyes widened as she clocked my appearance, mouth dropping. Mine widened right back, a shitty pulse of guilt no doubt blooming on my cheeks.

  Horror. All I felt was horror.

  And so did she. I could read it all over her face – she was both mortified and relieved at once, gulping in a breath before shaking her head at me.

  I’d been caught in the act. There was no way this wasn’t caught in the I’ve been fucking Lucas Pierce act.

  “I’ve been worried sick!” she screeched. “Your phone went to voicemail every time I tried to get hold of you last night. I wondered what the hell was happening to you! You could’ve been a total mess, convulsing in a ditch somewhere!” Her eyes searched mine. “Please don’t you dare tell me you’ve been with that asshole all weekend, Anna. Please, don’t.”

  Oh shit. I’d fucked up with the phone thing.

  There was no getting out of it, so I tried to play it down.

  “It was a game of tennis,” I told her. “Just a stupid game that made the one off a bit longer. It was still a one off. It still is a one off.”

  “Fucking hell,” she hissed, and her voice was genuinely strained. “You’ve actually been fucking that prick for two days straight?!”