Sara Jane

My eyelids flutter open then quickly close again. The dim light from the lamp is too bright for the dreamy state I wish I could remain in. I roll over and groan. For a few seconds, I was lucky enough not to remember the pain, or the past, or . . . I sigh. The present.

I open my eyes again and stare at the ceiling. Looking right and then left, panic sets in. Where am I? Checking the clock next to me, it reads 6:59. By how dark it is through the blinds covering the window in front of me, I assume it’s morning. It’s not the time or the darkness that holds my attention though. It’s the little plate with a stack of four Oreos and the glass of milk on the nightstand that calms me and fills my heart equally.

Alexander.

Smiling, I carefully climb out of bed, and when I open the door, I realize where I am. I pad softly down the hall to the living room and wonder where Alexander is.

“You’re a terrible patient. You know that?”

I know the voice and smile. Turning to the kitchen, Jason stands in a T-shirt and red and black checked flannel shirt, pulling an Oreo out of the package on the counter. “Why are you eating my Oreos?” I move to sit on a stool, the kitchen bar separating us.

Frowning, he analyzes the cookie. “You sure? They’re here for anyone to take.”

I reach for the package and dig one out. Pulling the cookie apart, I raise my eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure they’re for me, but you’re lucky I’m so nice and like to share.”

With a mouthful of cookie, he winks. “Yes, I am lucky you like to share. Your boyfriend doesn’t subscribe to the same philosophy.”

“Depends on what you’re asking him to share.” Glancing behind me for evidence of his presence, I ask, “Where is he anyway?”

“Out.”

Disappointment mingles with the earlier anger I felt. “That’s all I get.”

Leaning forward, his hands placed firmly between us on the marble, he whispers, “I’m not his keeper.”

“No, you’re just another link in his chain of command.” I struggle to hide my true feelings these days, so the frustration comes out stronger than I intend.

“Tell me how you really feel, Sara Jane.”

My eyes lift to meet his. “You called me Sara Jane.”

“It’s your name. Guess I should get used to it.”

“I guess.” A new disappointment coats my throat, remembering how much lighter things were with Eric. “Jason,” I say his name just to remind myself of it.

This time our eyes look into the other’s too long, though neither of us bothers to apologize or turn away.

The front door opens, and I turn to find Alexander walking in with a carrier of coffees and a box of what looks like donuts. His indigo eyes shine until he spots Jason. He glances from me to Jason and then to the Oreos between us. Ignoring Jason, he focuses on me. “Hey,” he says, “you’re up. How are you feeling?”

“Starved and wondering where you are at this hour?”

He sets the box in front of me on the bar. “I brought you breakfast. It’s from that place you love.”

I mentally kick myself for being upset moments earlier for him being gone when he is being so sweet. “That’s not close.”

“It’s okay. I know you love their donuts.” He pulls a coffee from the carrier and sets it down for me. “Mocha latte. It may be cold now.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” I roll my eyes because my emotions start getting the best of me. So embarrassing.

Alexander smiles and wipes the corners of my eyes. “Why are you crying?”

“They’re happy tears.” Looking at the box and coffee cup, I wrap my arms around his middle. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His hands cover my back as he rubs gently.

“Breakfast in bed? Want to join me?”

“Yeah, you go ahead. I’ll be right in.”

“Okay.” I take my coffee and head back to the bedroom.

The crinkle of the Oreo packaging is heard. I would turn to see what the commotion is, but like he does with me, I think Alexander just staked claim over the cookies too. My smile can’t be stopped, a giggle follows.

Once in the bedroom, I head into the bathroom. When I come out, Alexander is sitting on the end of the bed bent forward. His posture—the way his back curves down, his head a weight, dragging him down—he looks so tired. He looks up, but his body remains slumped. Standing in front of him, I lift his chin with the tips of my fingers and whisper, “That show you put on for him, you don’t have to do that. I can see what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, but that’s in your head.” Kneeling in front of him, I clasp my hands over his knees. “Jason and I are friends. I won’t lie to you, so when I tell you that he and I grew close while I was away, we grew as friends only. Nothing more. No one can replace you, but more importantly, I need you to remember who I came back to.”

It’s just a breath slipping from his lips, but I hear it. “Me.”

“You told me if I ever came back, it would be for good. I came back. I’m here; in all ways, I’m here. Forever.”

“I’m going to screw up.”

“You already have, and I’m still here.”

“I’m going to disappoint you.”

“And I’ll still be here.”

“Why?”

Cracking a smile, I reply, “Because you brought Oreos.” My smile softens as I stare into his needy eyes, the ones I want to take away the need and replace it with peace. “Wherever you are, I am.” I stand, but our hands stay locked together until I place his hand—his strong and warm hand—right over my heart. “Do you feel that?”

“I feel how fast your heart beats.”

“That’s your heartbeat. You own every beat of it.” Touching his chest over his heart, I feel the same fast but steady beat. “And this is mine.”

His breathing picks up, matching the pounding inside his chest. Standing before me, he kisses me. I welcome him and his tortured soul, his battered heart, and his insecurities. I want to heal him like he’s healing me.

He lowers me to the bed and I fall under his spell, into the purgatory that keeps us caught between the future I want and the future he’s creating. With my hands on his shoulder and neck, our lips part, our eyes wide open to what we are—together and separately. We signed a deal with the devil before we read the contract. We’ll take this journey together, because it’s too late to turn back now.

I slide my hands up until my fingers dig into his hair, and I bring him down, our lips meeting again. Moving one hand lower, I drag my nails over the front of his T-shirt and lower until I find the bulge in his jeans. “I want to make you feel good, Alexander.”

His hand covers mine, and he starts to pull me back. “No, you shouldn’t do too much. It’s too soon.”

“Please. I want to be here for you. Let me.”

The moment he stops tugging, he presses my hand down. “It feels so good to have you touch me again. I’ve missed you so damn much.”

Palming him through his jeans, a dull ache starts pulsing between my legs. Ignoring what I shouldn’t be doing, I focus on what feels good, and being with him feels so good. His hands move quickly to the button and his jeans are unzipped right after. “Fuck, Firefly. I’m not going to last. Again. You feel too good.”

“You don’t have to last. Let me please you.” Reaching beneath the cotton of his boxer briefs, I slide my hand along hard muscle covered in smooth skin. I palm the head and take a firm hold, sliding up and down slowly at first then picking up my pace.

Alexander’s hand finds my thigh and slides between my legs. “You don’t have to,” I say, my breath already coming in short pants.

Looking at me, he smiles. “Don’t you know I get off when you do?” The tips of his fingers drag just under the hem of my underwear. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You always were a quick learner.”

He kisses my nose and closes his eyes, his lips parting when I tighten my hold. I bite my lip to keep from moaning when a finger dips into my opening. Sliding in and then pulling out, he adds another before thrusting in again. My hips move with him, and my mind blurs, craving more friction but afraid to wiggle too much. My hand becomes sloppy and inconsistent. When he rubs against my swollen clit, my back arches just enough to remind me to not move too fast, my side flaring in pain. I pause, but when he groans in desire, I ignore my pain for his pleasure and start stroking him again.

The fire inside me spreads, reaching my cheeks and fueling them with heat burning my body and I come. “Alexander.”

“Cruise says we should think about—Oh shit.”

I gasp, and am left cold, coming down when Alexander scrambles to his feet. Jason backs out of the cracked-open door just as Alexander swings it open and shoves him against the far wall of the hall. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Scurrying to push my skirt down, my cheeks flush for different reasons now, humiliation setting in. I check to make sure I’m covered before covering my face with my hands. Oh my God.

I hear a scuffle and sit up. Jason has pushed Alexander, and I yell, “No. Don’t fight.”

Alexander takes him by the shirt and slams him against the door. “You think you have rights when you have none. Get the fuck out.”

Jason glances my way. I feel exposed as his gaze covers every inch of my body. When his eyes go back to Alexander’s, his voice is calm. “You need me, so I suggest you let go of my shirt and back the fuck off.”

“Fuck you.”

“If for no other reason, back off out of respect for your girlfriend.”

Alexander’s body shudders with anger as he holds Jason by the top of his shirt. “What does that mean? How am I disrespecting her?”

Taking a deep inhale through his nose, Jason grabs Alexander by the wrists. He lowers them and then presses his shoulder against him in some kind of macho move. Whispering loud enough for me to hear, Jason says, “Because I can smell her on your hands.”

The fight starts so fast I don’t know who swings first. I just know they’re both taken down at the same time. I jump up as Cruise runs between them. Cruise isn’t small, but he’s no match for them.

I am.

Moving between them before they can throw another punch, I throw my arms out. “No. You will not fight.”

Cruise helps push Alexander back. “Calm down, King. He’s on our side. We need him.”

“We don’t. We were fine before him.”

“Don’t let your jealousy cloud your mind.”

Jason laughs, blood running from the side of his mouth. “Yeah, don’t let your jealousy get the best of you, King.”

I push Jason to the opposite end of the hall. His hands grab hold of my elbows. As if my boyfriend isn’t there, he looks me in the eyes, and whispers, “One day we’ll get that dance we never had.”

I’m shocked by how forthright he is. His intentions are clearly to piss off Alexander, and I think I know why, so I ask, “Are you sure a dance is all you want?”

“One step leads to two.”

“No steps. No dance. I’m with Alexander.”

Our gazes are locked when I hear Alexander’s voice—calm, eerily so—call me, “Firefly.”

Not a question. Not a demand. One word used as ammo against Jason. One word that clearly articulates his love for me.

Cruise yells, “What are you doing, Koster? Stop it. She’s King’s woman.”

Taking a step back, I blink, still surprised by Jason and his actions. He watches me, yet I see no remorse. I take another step, backing away before turning and tucking myself into Alexander’s side. Wrapping his arms tightly around me, he says, “I’m taking you to the manor. I’ll deal with him later.”

While wiping the side of his mouth onto his T-shirt, we head for the door. Once it’s opened, I can’t stop myself. I look back. Cruise is griping at Jason. I can’t hear what Cruise is saying, but I do see the smirk on Jason’s face.

What the hell is he doing? Does he have a death wish?

The door closes, and I snuggle closer to Alexander as we leave, not sure if he needs it more or I do.

What the hell just happened?