Chapter Fourteen
I’d begun to measure my life in Wednesdays. Every episode of my inner television show revolved around them. I filed the titles in my head: The Wednesday I Fell Asleep. The Wednesday He Canceled. The Wednesday He Canceled Again. The Wednesday I Tried the Butt Plug. That episode was broken into two parts—the second was called The Wednesday I Snuck Out.
This one was The Wednesday I Stayed Home. It wasn’t a decision made on a whim. I’d pretty much known as I walked out of the Four Seasons in the Snuck Out episode that I wouldn’t be back. On Monday, I’d given a note to Alyssa to deliver to JC. It felt shitty and gutless, but he’d set the precedent.
The worst part was Alyssa’s smug expression. “You’re going after him with a note?”
I’d thought of several comebacks after—Wouldn’t you like to know? Or Please, I don’t have to go after him. But I’d felt too guilty, so I’d lamely said, “Just give it to him.”
Then I spent the next two days curled up in a ball in my bed trying not to cry. On Wednesday night, Norma stuck her head in after work. “You still not feeling good? Are you not going out tonight?”
She’d been so happy the last week, going on and on about Boyd now that she could finally talk about him with me. I hadn’t wanted to kill her buzz with my stupid boy drama. “Yeah, I’m no good. I canceled.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I was planning on staying with Boyd tonight since you weren’t going to be here. But I can tell him I need to stay home and take care of you.”
Her kindness was salt in a wound. My days off were salt in the wound too. Basically, I was an open wound and everything pressed against it and rubbed against me in a way that made my breath trip and my chest spasm. Maybe Norma could make it better—distract me with a hot bath and instrumental music and make me peppermint tea like she used to when she’d come home from college and find me bruised and sore from my father’s latest rampage.
Except this pain was in the inside. And instrumental music would only make me think of JC at the piano, giving his soul away to an empty room. And I didn’t want to ruin her date with the person who finally seemed to take care of her.
“No, Sissy. I’m fine. I’ll probably sleep the whole night anyway.” I wouldn’t sleep. I’d toss and turn and relive every minute I’d had with JC. It was exactly what I hadn’t wanted with him. I’d wanted freedom and fun and a reason to feel alive.
Instead, I was restrained and confined.
I’d get over him. Of course I would. I was tough like that. But that would be another episode. This episode I would wrap the chains around me like a blanket, clinging to the corners of my prison like an animal that had yet to realize that its cage door had been left open.
* * *
I’d half expected JC to show up at the club on Thursday night. Especially since the last time I’d seen him, I’d left without a goodbye. It seemed reasonable that he’d wonder what was up and come looking for answers eventually.
When he didn’t, I swallowed the lump in my throat and took it as a sign. He’d fought for my interest before. Now he was done. It made it easier to give the note to Alyssa the next Monday. And the next. The problem was trying to decide when notes were no longer necessary.
When Alyssa’s vacation came around and I had no one to deliver my message, I figured it was time. It had been the fourth Wednesday, anyway. He should have gotten the hint by now, but if JC wondered at all whether or not we were finished, he’d know when I didn’t show up this time. Without a formal cancellation, he’d know we were over.
That became my mantra, in fact. It’s over, it’s over, it’s over.
It’s over, as I went into work that Thursday night.
It’s over, as I checked out cash bags to the bartenders for their registers.
It’s over, as I finished my opening tasks and climbed the stairs to the Viper to set up for that night’s bachelorette party.
It’s over, as I opened the door to the room and found him sitting in the same pose as when I’d first seen him. His legs stretched out in front of him, his arms casually at his sides.
I froze in my tracks, but my blood…my blood ran hot. Like I’d suddenly walked into a sauna, except the steam was on the inside. It was hard to get a breath, and when I did, all I could smell was him—half real, half remembered scents of sandalwood cologne, sweat, and sex. With my heart thumping and my stomach swimming and my senses on overdrive—yeah, this wasn’t over.
This wasn’t over by a long shot.
He’s here.
Through the lust-inspired haze, excitement spiraled through me that had less to do with his ability to carnally intoxicate me and more to do with the empty pit in my chest that was only filled by his presence. That center part of me that recognized him as the guy I wanted. As the guy I loved. That hum was harder to silence than the ache between my legs. And oh, how I wished for that hum both to quiet and to crescendo. How I wished I could simultaneously drown out even the faintest whisper of the emotion and yet sing it full out at the top of my lungs.
I needed to be strong. I needed to not want him. I needed to not get sucked back in.
I needed to jump in his lap and beg him to let me ride him.
No. Not that. Not ever that again.
Besides, what if he wasn’t there to claim me as I secretly yearned he was? What if he was there to make our ending official and final? I clung to the disappointment that bubbled up at those thoughts and let that be my guide in our interaction.
I suppose I didn’t cling quite enough, because my voice was coated with desire when I found the strength to speak. “I wonder if I’ll ever stop being surprised at your ability to show up in this club when the doors have yet to be opened.”
Actually, I was pleased with my greeting. I thought it made me sound laid-back even though every muscle in my body was tense.
He smiled, and I swear I went wet.
“I hope you’re not. I like to be able to surprise you.” His eyes narrowed. “Your surprises though…I’m not really sure I like those.”
I swallowed, not sure I wanted to go where he was going. “My surprises?”
“First surprise was an empty bed after I’d left you in it. The second surprise came when you no-showed on me last night.”
Yep. Definitely didn’t want to go where he was going.
Which was admittedly naïve because what did I expect? More to the point, what did I think I wanted him to say? That he wasn’t bothered by my brush-off? That he hadn’t noticed I’d ducked out on him? That everything was hunky-dory?
No, I wanted him to be bothered because it meant he cared. So I’d have to take it, whether I liked confrontation or not.
“Okay, well.” I bit my lip as I gathered my words. “The first time shouldn’t even count because you left the bed before I did. Excuse me for thinking maybe my presence was no longer wanted.” I’d come off a little bitchier than I’d meant to, but I didn’t regret it. He needed to know I was bothered by what he did too.
“Yeah. Because I’ve made it so obviously clear how much I don’t want you.” His sarcastic retort made me scowl.
But it also made my heart trip. Silly, really. I already knew he wanted me. Of course I did. Hearing him say it, though, when he wasn’t seconds from pushing inside of me and I still had all my clothes on—it felt different. It felt like he was saying something more than he was. It messed me up.
Feeling out of control, I turned away from him. “You disappeared. I took it at face value.” I busied myself with making sure the chairs were arranged around the tables the way the party had requested instead of with studying JC’s expression and trying to analyze its meaning.
Behind me, he let out a frustrated sigh. “I was downstairs. You fell asleep. I figured you needed your rest, so I went down to play a bit. It hadn’t ever been a problem before.”
I spun toward him. “You’d abandoned me before?”
“Don’t make this bigger than it is.” He pulled his legs in and leaned over, his elbows resting on his thighs. “I’d slipped out a couple of times before, yes. Like I said, it’s never been a problem.”
“You couldn’t leave a note?”
“I could say the same to you.”
He had a point. At least when he’d left, he’d intended to come back. I hadn’t.
But I was hurt. I was mad. I was self-righteous. “Hey, I’m not going to feel bad about leaving that night. You were closed off from the minute I walked in the door.” My words were heavy and bitter on my tongue. “Really, I guess you didn’t abandon me since you were never really there.”
I despised everything coming out of my mouth. They threw blame, and worse, they gave me away. I preferred that he didn’t realize I had feelings for him. There was no way I wanted to be accused of breaking our deal by falling for him. In fact, if he confronted me about it, I’d probably deny it. And I’d look more foolish than I already did because it was so obvious that I felt a lot.
Yet I couldn’t stop myself. I kept saying the girly, emotional blackmail-y shit that I hated saying almost as much as I hated feeling.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gwen. I was there.” He didn’t meet my eyes, though, and I felt justified. Because it reinforced my belief that he’d been closed off on purpose.
Didn’t that mean he really had felt something for me? Why else would he try to hide himself? And if he’d felt it for one day, why couldn’t he feel it again?
Maybe I was being too obstinate. If I gave him time, if I was patient with him, perhaps he could become more comfortable with the emotion.
On the other hand, what if I just got further wrapped up in him and he never came around?
His gaze found mine. As always, he saw right through me. Saw me debating. He took advantage of it. “You remember. I know you do. Or should I remind you what happened that night? Should I tell you what we did?” His eyes were dark now. “We had a pretty fantastic time, if you’ll recall.”
I didn’t want to talk about the fantastic time we’d had. I was already wavering, and for whatever ridiculous reason, our argument had only elevated my desire. My core was wet and tingling and thoughts of fantastic times were not what I needed.
I turned back to the chairs, shifting them gruffly. “You know what? Forget I said anything. I left because you were gone. You didn’t try to reach me after, so I assumed it hadn’t been an issue.”
“I figured you needed your space. I’d pushed you that night. Sexually.” He was still teasing, trying to push my buttons. Trying to get my thoughts where he wanted them—on our physical connection. On how good we were together.
It didn’t work. That he’d thought it had been about sex actually made things worse. Fucking asshole. My irritation notched up, when I should have been relieved that he hadn’t called me out on emotional involvement.
And if I really hadn’t been fine with the kink, as he said he’d suspected, then shouldn’t he have been more concerned about checking in on me?
“Whatever,” I said, more to myself than to him. I couldn’t talk about that night anymore. Thinking about it was starting to rub at me like the itchy fabric of a wool sweater. It looked good, but it also scratched, scratched, scratched.
I had to get rid of the sweater.
I spun back to him with false bravado. “Anyway, the second surprise shouldn’t have been a surprise either. After three weeks, I figured you’d get the hint.”
His posture tensed. “Get what hint?”
With his eyes on me, it was harder to say it. Even though I’d practiced it all day. It’s over. I opened my mouth to say it. Nothing came out.
JC bolted out of his chair and closed nearly the whole distance between us, his face hard. Harder than I’d ever seen it. “Get what hint?” he asked again.
I shrunk back, unable to speak or look away. Doubt trembled down my spine. I’d done this wrong. In this moment, I realized my actions had felt shitty because they had been.
He read the guilt on my expression. “Are you ending our arrangement, Gwen? Because I think that I at least deserve the courtesy of getting that kind of news face-to-face.”
I pushed past the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You did.” God, I felt small. And tired. And out of my league. “I thought that…” That if I’d shown up to break things off face-to-face, I’d never go through with it. I couldn’t tell him that. “I don’t know what I thought. I was wrong.”
He held his arms out to the side in a grand gesture. “Finally. We’re getting somewhere.” His hands fell to his side. “Now. Why?”
“Why what?” I should have prepared myself for this conversation. I’d been stupid to think I would never have to have it, and I didn’t have believable answers at the ready.
“Why do you want to end things? Did I hurt you? Were things not working out? Have you found someone else?”
“No!” I had to pick a lie, but none of those were fair. “No, to all of that.”
“Then what?” He exhaled as he asked, his relief evident. “Come on. We’re good together, Gwen. You can’t say that we don’t have chemistry.”
“It’s a lot of things.” I went back to the chairs, using my movement around the table to distance myself from him.
He followed. “Like?”
“Like work. It’s been busy.”
“You still have Wednesdays off. Don’t say you don’t. I stopped by last night looking.”
He looked for me. It hit me in the gut. While I’d sat at home convinced he didn’t care in the least about our end, he’d come to the club to find me. Had he wanted to see me that badly? Was he giving himself away too? Was this proof that he was also emotionally involved?
I couldn’t let myself think that way. It was a slippery slope, and I was already close to saying fuck it all and that I’d be there next week. “Yes, I still have Wednesdays off. But I have other things to do with my free time.”
“Like what?”
He stayed at my heels. I could feel him like a wall of warmth. If I leaned back, let my body fall into him, would he put his arms around me? Would he help me feel secure? Would it make up for the other things he couldn’t give me?
“I don’t know…th-things,” I said, stumbling over my words. “Family things. My sister needs me. And my brother. My father is being released from jail in a few weeks and that had a big impact on—”
JC cut me off. “So you’re a little stressed. So what?”
I swung toward him, unable to decide if I was more peeved at his disinterest or his condescension. “If you’d let me actually tell you something about myself, maybe you’d see why I’m more than a little stressed.”
“That’s not us. That’s not who we are to each other.”
In his straight inflection, I heard the truth. I heard him convincing himself as much as me, and again I saw the potential relationship we might have if I only had patience. If I only had the grit to stick it out and wait for him, one day possibly we could be that to each other.
But I was gutless.
“That’s not us,” I said. “You’re right. We have an arrangement to be carefree and fun. And now we’re arguing. Over our commitment-free relationship. Over sex. That’s not what I signed up for.”
My throat tightened, and I had to clear it before I went on. “Anyway, my point is I don’t have time for this right now. I have other things going on.”
Back to the chairs. Focus on the chairs.
JC hesitated, and I thought I’d finally gotten to him.
But then he was at my side again, his demeanor light and yet tenacious. “And that’s exactly why you need what we have right now. You need the release.”
You need, you need, you need. It struck me as a strange argument. You should because you need. Why did he care what I needed? What did he need?
I spun toward him. “Why are you even here, JC? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”
“I moved my flight.”
“Until when?”
“Tomorrow night.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, and while I liked that pose on him, I recognized it was one of his less confident stances.
It was my turn to take advantage. “Why?” I could play the same game he had with me. The push, push, push. It wasn’t that hard when I was motivated. “Why did you change your flight?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t ready to leave town.”
“Because of me?”
He ran a hand through his hair, unable to look at me. Unable to answer.
I had him on the edge, and it thrilled me. Because I could only get to him this way if I already got to him in other ways. I pressed on, sidestepping a chair so there was nothing between us. “Why can’t you say it? Because of me, right?”
Abruptly, he grabbed my upper arms and pulled me to him roughly. “Yes, because of you. Of course, because of you. I need…” His lips hovered above mine—tempting, taunting—and I couldn’t decide if I wanted him to kiss me or to finish his thought.
He exhaled, his breath dancing across my mouth, his body relaxing as he pressed into me, hot and inviting. “I need a distraction. I have things on my mind. I want my mind on you. I want my hands on you.” He brushed my arms with long strokes. “I want my mouth on you.”
I was the addict again, on the brink of giving in to the sweet pull of his temptation, not caring if there was anything real behind his drug. Eyes half-closed, my skin burning up from his touch, I gave a last-ditch effort to save myself. “There are a hundred girls out there who could be your distraction.”
“No, there’s not. There’s only you.”
My breath caught. I would have sunk to my knees if he weren’t still holding me up. And yet, he still wasn’t kissing me, his lips still flitting only inches above mine.
I lifted my eyes to his. He regretted saying it. I saw it plain as day, his face having fallen with the slip. Or the wrong choice of words. I didn’t know which. Only saw that he wished he could erase it.
It gutted me.
He shut his eyes tightly, and in those next few seconds, all I could think was why doesn’t he let me go? When he opened them, I expected he’d take it back. I waited for it. I prayed for it because while I cherished his admission, whatever it was he meant by it, I couldn’t bear it. It didn’t make it better. It only made it worse.
When he spoke again, it was carefully. Controlled. “I don’t want to push you,” he said. “You’re right that we agreed this was going to be casual. It still is, for the most part. But you’ve come a long way. You seem happier. And I…I like spending time with you. I’d hate to see our arrangement ending just when I think you need me most.”
Every other word he said made me melt. The words in between pissed me off. And he needn’t worry about losing the ability to surprise me because none of what he’d spoken had been expected.
He trailed his hands down the length of my arms. “I know you have to work. I’ll let you get back to it.” He laced his fingers through mine. “But I’ll be at the hotel tonight. I’d love it if you came by after your shift. Think about it.” He let me go, and after one last lingering look, he headed toward the door.
I glanced at where he’d held me, sure I’d see burns on my skin from his touch. Sure that he’d left some sort of a scar.
I wondered if I’d marked him at all in return. “And what about you, JC?” I asked, my words landing on his back. “Do you need me?”
He stopped, but he didn’t turn to me. “That’s not us, Gwen. That’s not what we have.” His statement wrapped its cold arms around me as he started out again. In the threshold, he pivoted back to face me. “But I came here tonight, didn’t I?”
* * *
When I slid my key card in the door lock, I could no longer say what was going on between us, nor what I thought would happen next. I only knew I had no other choice. I had to be there. Even if he never said anything more meaningful than, “There’s only you,” even if he never fought more than he had by showing up at my club, I would be there for him.
He was dozing in the armchair, but his eyes flew open when I walked toward him. As if he could feel me as he slept.
He cleared the sleep from his voice. “You came.”
“Not yet.”
His lip curled up slowly into a wicked grin that was both familiar and arousing. “Is that a challenge?”
I barely had a chance to nod before his hands were on me. Within minutes, he’d released his cock, removed my panties and pulled me into his lap. I was wet but still tight as he ground into me. I screamed from the mixture of pleasure and pain and wrapped my arms around his neck while I begged him for more.
He delivered, pounding into me at a feverish pace. He was hard. He was merciless. He was punishing me for having stayed away, handling me rougher than he ever had as he bit at my nipples and dug his fingers into my hips.
He spoke as he fucked me. This time, instead of asking me how I felt, he told me. “I make you feel good. You like this. You love the way I feel inside you, Gwen. You feel me now. Feel me.” He was reminding me. Making sure I didn’t forget. Making sure I would remember this before I thought of ending us again.
I came. More than once. By the time he’d released, my voice was hoarse and my thighs ached. My dress felt hot and heavy on my sweaty skin. And though my center continued to hum with thoughts of more, I was content. Even when he gently pushed me off. Even when he didn’t meet my eyes.
I knew then, and I accepted. This was how it was going to be between us. We’d meet. We’d fuck. He’d put up walls between us. And I’d love him.