ELLIE
BLOOD, FISTS FLYING, grunts of pain, shrieks from people around me as the guy who seconds before had pushed money into the waist of my jeans and called me a puta, which I was pretty sure was Spanish for “whore,” slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Stacey’s fingers bit into my arm, trying to tug me backward, closer to her, but my body was fused to the spot as my eyes took in every detail about him. And it definitely was him, even though I’d doubted myself for a couple of heartbeats. But no, I’d recognize that face anywhere, despite the fact that his beautiful features were still twisted with rage, like some sort of wrathful avenging angel come to save me in my hour of need.
He was breathing rapidly, staring down at the guy he’d just beaten with such contempt it practically rippled from his body. Then his head snapped up, and he turned to face me.
The second my eyes met his I forgot how to breathe.
Jamie Cole.
In that moment, everything else seemed to stop. I no longer heard the music that had been thrumming around us; all I could see was him and those eyes, the ones I’d stared into for hours on end, the ones I knew every fleck of color in, that rich chocolate brown that drew me in and melted my heart all those years ago. My lips parted, my throat suddenly tight as I let my gaze wander quickly over him.
His hair was different from the last time I saw him; it was kind of messy, curling out around his ears and the nape of his neck as if it needed a trim. He had scruff on his jaw. Fading bruises were visible on his cheek and the side of his neck. A three-inch scar sliced just above his eyebrow—another to add to his extensive collection. My finger twitched; even after all this time, after all the hurt he’d caused me, I still wanted to reach out and touch that scar, to trace my finger across it and ask him how it happened.
But the thing that was most apparent as I looked at him was that he’d changed.
This man standing before me in his white-collared shirt and black dress pants, with his knuckles dripping someone else’s blood onto the hardwood floor, wasn’t the boy I once knew. Something had altered him, hardened him, ruined him.
His posture was stiff, imposing, aggressive, furious even. An unconscious man lay at his feet, beaten and broken, and I didn’t see one inch of regret on Jamie’s face. I’d never seen him like that. The darkness swirling in his eyes made my stomach clench.
“Get down. Now!” he growled.
I gulped, trying to swallow around the lump in my throat. “Jamie?” My voice barely worked and it came out as more of a whisper, but he heard. His jaw twitched again; he shifted his stance slightly, but his eyes never left mine.
My body was numb, my brain struggling to catch up. He was here. I was face-to-face with the boy I’d cried myself to sleep over for months on end. Seeing him now, so unexpectedly, I had all of those feelings come crashing back at once, swallowing me up and spitting me back out again. Crushing me, throwing me right back into that sea of hurt that I’d struggled to drag myself out of.
This man in front of me was the reason I hadn’t come back home. I never wanted this meeting to take place, I never wanted to look into those eyes again because then I’d have to find the strength to be without him all over again, and I wasn’t sure I could do it twice.
“Get down now!” he repeated, his tone sharp and commanding.
My eyes began to sting with tears and I fought them as memories of us and our good times surrounded me like a smack in the face. I’d loved this boy unconditionally; I’d loved everything about him, even the bad parts that I didn’t understand. He had me, body and soul, and he threw us away because of a stupid mistake. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest.
His posture was tense as he flicked a quick glance over his shoulder. “Ellie, get down from there, will you? Jesus fucking Christ, will you just do as I say?” he demanded, thrusting his hand toward me so he could help me down from the podium Stacey had made me climb.
But as I stared down at him, my feelings suddenly changed. My shock at seeing him suddenly morphed into intense anger. He’s just beaten a guy to a pulp even though I was handling it perfectly fine on my own, and now he has the audacity to make demands of me...after what he did to me?
My hands clenched into fists, and I opened my mouth to say some of the witty things I’d concocted over the years, comebacks I should have said to him on the phone that day instead of begging him to give me another chance, but before I could speak, he stepped forward and grabbed me, pulling me to him effortlessly. And then I was tipping upside down, my body draped over his shoulder, my ass in the air as his arm wrapped around my thighs, holding me in place as my face bumped against the small of his back.
I squealed from the shock, blood instantly rushing to my head, and all I could see were shoes and the injured guy who lay on the floor. I gasped, feeling my face glow with embarrassed heat.
“Hey!” Stacey shouted from the podium.
The surrounding crowds of feet parted as Jamie turned, walking through them with me draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, my body bumping against him with each step he took.
Anger rippled inside me with a ferocity I wasn’t even aware I still possessed. “Put me the hell down, asshole!” I screamed, wriggling, kicking my legs and banging my fists against his back. “Get off me! Jamie Cole, put me the fuck down right now!” I demanded, grasping at anything I could, digging my nails into his back in a bid to get his attention.
He’d made it less than ten steps when one of my flailing legs connected with something, possibly the side of his face, and he stopped walking. I took that as my opportunity and wriggled harder, pushing against his back, futilely trying to get myself upright again so I could shimmy down.
“Take your hands off me!” I pinched the skin at his side, still bucking like a horse trying to get free.
“Ugh, fine! Fucking calm down!” He bent his knees, tugging on my legs so I shifted on his shoulder. His grip on me loosened as my feet touched the floor. I gripped his shoulders, using them for leverage as I pushed myself upright, taking a second to adjust to being back the right way up. His hands were still on my hips, holding me steady as he straightened, standing full height, looking down at me with hardened features and blazing eyes.
He’s pissed right now, seriously pissed.
I pulled back my shoulders, shoving his hands off me and taking a step back to get some personal space. My head was all over the place as I absentmindedly attempted to fix my hair, which was sure to be an absolute mess after that ruckus.
I glared at him. I was pissed, too. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You just storm over and start fighting in the middle of a club like a freaking delinquent, and then you have the audacity to touch me? You don’t get to touch me, not anymore. You have no right!” My words came out harsher than I’d even intended. Years of hurt pooled into them, making them acidic and bitchy.
“Ellie,” he said, his eyebrows pulling together in concentration. His lips moved, but nothing else came out as he huffed out a breath and raked a hand through his hair. The soft caress of his voice around my name made my heart stutter. I never thought I would hear this boy say my name again. Even though I didn’t want it to, the sound of it set butterflies loose in my stomach.
I shook my head. He had no damn right to cause butterflies, not after breaking my heart, and my traitorous body should be with me on this one. Bitch. “Three years of silence, and then you just walk over and think you can pick me up and carry me around like a freaking caveman?” I pointed my finger at him, trying to even out my breathing. The anger was dissipating and I could feel my emotions swelling inside me, threatening to spill out. “You don’t get to do that, Jamie. You don’t get to pretend like nothing happened and swoop in like some knight in shining armor. You don’t get to pretend that you didn’t break my heart. You just don’t.” By the time I got to the last word, it was almost a whisper and my eyes were brimming with tears.
I couldn’t do this anymore, I couldn’t stand here in front of him and hold it together. Tears were imminent, and I refused to show him a single one. Behind him, I could see Stacey climbing down from the podium, making her way over. I turned on my heel, my eyes finding the exit, knowing she’d follow me out. I was just about to take a step when a hand closed around my wrist and I was pulled back, my body colliding with his.
I gasped, looking up into Jamie’s face. His eyes were heated, his jaw set as he stepped even closer to me, his grip on my wrist steely as his other hand came up to cup the side of my face, his fingertips threading into my hair. I didn’t have any time to react before his mouth covered mine.
I squeaked, my body going rigid as he pressed against me. His warmth seeped into me as his lips brushed softly against mine. The kiss was over in an instant, but he didn’t pull back. His nose brushed against mine as his breath fanned down across my lips and chin. He released my wrist, his hand sliding to cover my hip instead, the move giving me the opportunity to step away if I so wished. But I didn’t.
My body reacted of its own accord, my breath coming out in shallow gasps as I arched, pressing against every rock-hard inch of him. His body was so taut, firm, warm, and familiar that my heart raced in my chest. I stared at his mouth, at lips that had explored every inch of my body so lovingly, at the mouth that had whispered I love you while I was wrapped in his arms. A groan of longing built in my throat as I stared at that mouth.
Everything was forgotten: the pain, the heartache, the tears, the club we were in, the people watching; everything was gone in an instant, and I was lost in him.
So when his lips brushed mine for a second time, my eyes fluttered closed and I kissed him back, rejoicing in the blissful feelings a simple kiss from him could create. He groaned against my lips, his hand sliding around to my back, holding me tightly against him. A wave of longing and desperation hit me full force, so I gripped a fistful of his shirt, holding on for dear life as the kiss grew in intensity.
My legs weakened, but his strong hold around my waist kept me in place as the passion inside me spiked to levels it hadn’t reached in years. It was an all-consuming, I need to have you inside me now passion, almost painful it was so immense. It was a passion only Jamie had ever evoked in me.
When his lips parted and his tongue gently brushed across my bottom lip and an ache of longing built in my chest, I realized I hadn’t been kissed like this since Jamie. This want, this absolute need and desperation to be closer to someone, was something I’d only ever experienced with him. Toby had never made me feel this much, not with a kiss, not with an hour spent exploring each other’s naked bodies, not ever.
And as soon as his name entered my head, everything was over.
Toby. My fiancé. The guy who had given me a job and a reason to stay in England when I was so desperate not to go home, the guy who’d fixed me, the one who made me laugh when all I could see was darkness. Sweet, adorable, dependable Toby who absolutely did not deserve this.
The passion was gone in an instant, replaced by an anger so bright it made my palms itch.
Sliding my arms up between us, I shoved Jamie away from me, sucking in a couple of ragged breaths. Rage burned within me, heating my entire body. Without even knowing what I was doing, my hand came up and I slapped him across the face. Hard. The watching crowd gasped, their eyes wide and excited. I could see Stacey behind Jamie, her mouth open, her shock evident.
Jamie’s head whipped to the side with the force of the blow, but other than that small movement he didn’t react at all. Anger made my vision blurry, or maybe that was the tears that I could no longer hold at bay.
“You asshole! I’m engaged! You can’t just kiss me like that anymore. You had your chance and you blew it! You blew it, Jamie,” I shouted. I shook my head, dropping my eyes to the floor because I couldn’t look at his wounded expression for another second. “I honestly don’t know how you have the gall to even approach me, let alone kiss me after all this time,” I said. “Just leave me alone. I have enough shit to deal with without you coming in to complicate things and stir up stuff that belongs in the past.”
I turned and ran through the crowd, pushing my way through the gyrating people on the dance floor who were completely oblivious to any scenes that had happened at the back of the club, my eyes firmly locked on the green glowing sign with the words emergency exit on it. I ran away from him and, I thought, my problems. But as I burst through the fire escape door and into the dark, trash-filled alley at the side of the club, I realized that my problems were rooted deep within me and no amount of running would help.
I stopped and leaned against the cold brick wall, my fury still raging as I struggled to catch my breath. But as the fresh air dried my tears and new ones replaced them, it hit me that my anger wasn’t even directed at Jamie, not really. It was directed at me. He’d just been the scapegoat because it was easier to project it than take responsibility.
I’d kissed him back. That was what I was angry about. I’d kissed him back even though I was engaged to someone else. And I’d loved every freaking second of it. I hated myself for that.