Twenty-five
Raven
It’s been two years since I’ve seen her. Part of me wants to run to her, hoping the sight of me will make her smile. I want her to tell me she’s missed me and has been meaning to call, as most moms would do with a child they haven’t seen in two years. But I’m frozen in place. Those thoughts are nothing more than the musings of a neglected child—one who wants what she’ll never have.
I study her as she sips her wine, her eyes intent on the john across the table. She tilts her head and smiles. The softness in her gaze makes my heart pinch with envy.
I’ve never been on the receiving end of her smile. Her blank stares, those I know. The way her sparkling eyes go dead when she looks at me, I know that too. And she’s certainly never looked at me with love. Indifference, yes. Resentment, maybe.
Love? No.
She wouldn’t give me that. But here, for the right price, she gifts these things to a stranger. He’s paid for it. He is deserving of it, but not me, not her own daughter.
My breath becomes short. Anger boils my insides. Tears launch their brutal attack without mercy. This time, I don’t fight them. I savor the sting on my cheeks as the salty evidence of my neglect consumes me. I welcome the sadness and desperation as it spurs on my rage.
I’ve been such a fool. Daydreaming about what might be. I have no parents. They used each other to create a sick joke of a human being for their own selfish reasons. I’ve put up with the neglect and abuse for long enough. No more.
My legs begin a journey my mind hasn’t caught up to. Before I know it, I’m standing at their table. My eyes lock on my mom. I sense the curious stare of her date from the corner of my eye, but I wait. I wait to be acknowledged by her.
It doesn’t take long before her face turns to me with a polite smile, probably thinking I’m a waitress, and then falls instantly: blank stare, dead eyes.
No smile for me, mom? What a shocker.
Silently, our eyes locked on each other, my lips curl.
“Can we help you?” says the john.
I ignore him and speak directly to her. “How could you?” The acrid tone of my words makes her shift in her seat.
“Raven,” she whispers my name like it’s a dirty word. Her eyes dart around the room. “I’m on a date. Call me tomorrow and we can—”
“How fucking could you? You smile at him.” I point an accusing finger at the john. “But you can hardly stand to look at me!” My fist slams against their table, shaking the china. “Your own daughter.”
Eyes on the john, she shakes her head and shrugs as if to say, I don’t know what she’s talking about.
Bitch!
“I’m sorry about this, Mark. There must be some mis—”
“You’re sorry, Mark?” My glare swings back and forth between Mark and my mom. “You’re sorry, fucking Mark? You ruined my life!”
Mark jumps from his chair. “Watch your tone! We’re having dinner, and if you know what’s best for you, you’ll turn around and walk out of here. Now.”
I have no intention of walking out of here. Not without saying what I need to say.
“Did you know, Mom? Did you know what his plan was for me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your dad tell you that he . . . that he . . .” I can’t bring myself to say it, but the fear showing in her wide eyes tells me she knew. “He’s come for me.”
Her hand grips at her throat and her face pales. She leans to the side, squinting at something behind me. She wants to avoid what I’m saying. No, not this time.
I get right in her face and point. “You did this to me. Why? You ruined my life. I wish you never had me!”
Her eyes glisten before they drop to her lap.
“That’s enough!” Mark grabs my arm and pulls hard.
Unfazed by Marks tightening grip, I intend on expelling the ugly until they throw me out. “Do you hear me, whore? I wish I was never born!”
“Get your motherfucking hands off her,” a low, but authoritative rumble demands from my back.
Mark’s eyes move to a towering figure behind me before he releases his hand. I don’t have to turn around to know my savior as his strong arms wrap around my waist.
The sound of Jonah’s voice and comfort of his touch trigger a sob from deep in my chest. He’s here. Thank God. I lean into his embrace. I don’t know how much he heard, but his presence reminds me of what I have and dulls the ache of what I never will.
“I’ve got you, baby. Let me take you home.”
Home.
Jonah is my home now. He’s the only one who ever cared enough to fight for me. He’s my family. All that matters now is us.
Jonah turns me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest, and let the emotions overtake me. His soothing words are nothing but background noise to my uncontrollable sobs.
He walks us from the restaurant and back to our waiting limo. The tears begin to dry as I’m placed into the privacy of the car. I’m a mess of nerves, anger, and hurt as verbal vomit flows from my lips like a sorority girl on induction night. Sobs break with roaring words of devastation as twenty-one years of pain finally find release.
Jonah’s eyes are wide, watching me kick and scream, throwing out every curse word that comes to mind. I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, but Jonah flinches as the once foreign words tumble from my lips with ease.
Seconds turn into minutes before my heart rate slows and my muscles relax. Exhaustion sets in. Jonah slides to my side, wrapping me in his arms.
“You finished?” His question is tender and laced with meaning.
Finished crying? Finished with my mom? Finished fighting my future?
Nodding my head into his neck, he holds me tighter.
“I should’ve gone with you. I never should’ve let you leave after that shit with Camille.” He sounds angry with himself, but none of what happened tonight is his fault.
A new wave of anger flickers at the mention of her name, but there’s no fuel left to ignite it. I sink deeper into his embrace.
“Taylor wanted me to be seen in public with her to promote the Female MMA League. I told him I wouldn’t do it, but I guess she didn’t like taking no for an answer.” His lips press against the top of my head. “Don’t think she’ll be hearing no from Blake.”
Camille up against Blake. She doesn’t stand a chance.
“I understand. It just caught me off guard. Del Toro, Camille, my mom . . .”
“Crazy night.”
I nod.
“Feel good? Telling her off like that?”
My face heats, and I’m thankful it’s dark so he can’t see it; although, he can probably feel it through his shirt.
“How much did you hear?”
“Everything. You were yelling pretty loud. I’m proud of you, baby.” His warm hand caresses my arm, reinforcing his words.
“Proud? I acted like an idiot in there. Made a fool out of myself, out of you.”
“You stood up for yourself. Let your mom know what you’ve been keeping inside for way too long. What you did was really brave.”
Once again, he gives, unknowingly filling my emotional cup to the brim. And then some.
“Please tell me no one from your team heard. Your boss? Your publicist? Camille!” My voice grows louder as hysteria returns.
“Shhh, they had no clue. I went to find you and saw you leaning over your mom like a bear about to attack. I told the hostess to give them the message that you were sick and I had to get you home. Did me a favor. I hate those stuffy dinners, everyone blowing sunshine up each other’s asses.”
The limo slows to a stop. I peer out the window to see we’re in Jonah’s driveway. Charlie, the limo driver, opens the door and Jonah gets out. I hear him mumbling something about not talking to the media followed by Charlie’s emphatic agreement. Jonah reaches in to help me out of the car.
“Miss Raven, it’s been a pleasure.” Charlie’s face looks concerned.
I wipe my eyes and smile. “Thank you, Charlie. It was nice meeting you.”
Jonah tosses him a thick fold of bills and a chin lift and guides me to the front door. I beeline it to Jonah’s room to take off my dress and wash my face.
Stepping into the bathroom, I flip on the light and recoil at my reflection. Walking closer to the mirror, I tilt my head and squint.
Holy heck.
Black eye makeup marks channel down my face like a road map of mayhem. Blotchy red marks on my cheeks and forehead highlight my bloodshot eyes. I look like a demented prom queen, minus all the blood. And Jonah held me like this, as I screamed every cuss word I could think of.
My hands fly to my mouth. He must think I’m a lunatic.
Words thrown from my hissy fit come rushing back. The memory of Jonah’s hazel eyes, wide and set on me while . . . While I made a total fool out of myself.
Hysteria swells in my chest. I roll my lips into my mouth and force back the maniacal laughter. A fluttering bubbles up from my chest as I recall my mom’s face when I stepped to her table. Laughter explodes, ricocheting off the tiled walls. Mark’s face when he saw Jonah has me doubled over. The sorry sack looked like he soiled his briefs.
The intensity of what happened sinks in. I muffle my frenzy into a washcloth, hoping its cool contact will ease the delirium. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I check out my blurred reflection. Crazy eyes, bleeding black tears, huge smile. Pure, certifiable insanity.
I collapse into a torrent of giggles, causing rivers to stream down my face. Tears born of laughter feel so much better than those born from pain. My jaw aches, but the howl continues to tumble from my lips.
My side cramps. I press against the pain and try to calm down with deep breathing.
It doesn’t work.
My stomach muscles contract as I cackle without control. The sound fades in waves as I trade oxygen for lunacy. Is it possible to die of laughter?
I sense movement from the corner of my eye. Jonah is standing in the doorway, frozen and staring. Without the breath to speak, I hold up my palm and pray he gets the message. Yes. I’ve officially lost it.
“What the fuck?” he whispers.
I shake my head, pleading with him to stop. If he speaks another word, I’m pretty sure I’ll cough up my kidneys from laughing.
He tilts his head, studying me. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He didn’t listen. I squeeze my eyes shut, and soundless laughter racks my body.
“I . . . can’t . . . stop.” I manage to get out the words before another wave of laughter brings me to my knees.
“Baby?” His lips are twitching like he’s fighting the urge to join me in Crazytown.
He closes the distance between us in two long strides and he kneels in front of me. His face is fixed in a sexy half-grin; his eyelids are low and lustful. He grabs my face hard, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. My laughter dies under the intensity of his stare. Blood races through my veins and my belly somersaults. Heat blooms in my chest and I lean in.
“There she is,” he whispers.
My pulse surges with a furious passion that is anything but funny. Eyeing his full lips, I get closer, pressing my chest against his. My tongue slowly makes a pass along my lower lip, preparing for his attention.
“That’s my girl,” he growls before his lips cover mine.
Exploring his mouth, desire consumes me. I scrape my teeth along the inside of his bottom lip and swallow his answering groan. All the emotions from this evening are spiraling together to fuel the kiss and ramp up my need. I rip through his dress shirt, buttons bouncing off the marble floor. Pushing it from his shoulders, I run my hands down his rippled abdomen, digging my nails in as I go. His hands tangle in my hair to deepen the kiss. The smell of mint and aftershave permeate the air and seduce my senses.
His hand trails down my arm, leaving a wake of fire against my skin. With a gentle touch, he finds the slit of my dress, pushing the fabric aside at my hip. Still on my knees, I spread my legs in anticipation. He grips my hip then slides his hand down to where I need it most. I groan and roll my hips into his hand.
He stills. I smile.
“All night?” His voice is dark and hungry.
“Yes, all night.” My answer is spoken through the satisfied smile that pulls at my lips.
His eyes lock on mine, wide and fascinated.
“What? You didn’t expect me to wear panties with this dress, did you? It’s too low cut in the back. I had to go commando.” Who knew something as simple as not wearing panties could give me so much power? And power over someone as strong and commanding as Jonah is a potent aphrodisiac.
“That would have saved us a whole lot of trouble tonight. If I had known you were naked under that dress, I can guarantee you wouldn’t have seen Camille or your mom. Hell, you wouldn’t have seen much outside of my sheets.”
I place a soft kiss against his lips and stand. His eyebrows drop low as he watches me with rapt attention. I turn my back to him, but peek over my shoulder and wink. He stares at me, a helpless look on his face.
Yes!
I slip a strap off my shoulder, making sure to keep my eyes locked on his. He licks his lips. I turn and glance over my other shoulder before sliding that strap down. His fists flex against his massive thighs. Inch by inch, I drop the dress lower in a lazy striptease. His eyes glaze over beneath heavy lids as I reveal the backside of my naked body in painstakingly slow steps.
Finally, with the dress pooling around my feet, I step out of the silken fabric. I’m left standing in my high heels. And nothing else.
Jonah rises to his feet. Still with my back to him, I’m attacked by a moment of self-consciousness and cup my breasts to hide them from his view.
He steps behind me. I can feel the heat from his body and smell the spice of his cologne, but he’s not touching me.
“Turn around,” he demands gently.
My head swivels his way, followed by my body. The clicking of my shoes against the marble floor is the only sound in the room next to my quickened breath.
His eyes take me in from hair to heels. With a feather light touch, he removes my hands from my breasts. “No hiding.”
He runs his fingers from my hand, to my shoulder. They continue their journey down my spine to my bottom. I suck in a breath as he traces the line down between my legs and back up leaving a trail of heat that pools in my belly. He walks in a slow circle around me, never breaking his fingers contact with my flesh, skating around to my stomach, my hip, and back while he walks.
His gaze is dark and predatory as he stalks me. Gorgeously sculpted muscles painted in brilliant colors catch and reflect the light. I stare at him unabashed, watching his reflection in the mirror when his circle is complete and he’s stopped behind me. His silence speaks volumes while he takes in my form.
“Leave the shoes on.” The jagged edge to his voice sends a delicious tremble up my spine.
I turn toward him and grab the waist of his slacks. The evidence of his arousal is pressing against his fly, pushing the fabric past capacity. I run my fingers along his length, feeling steel beneath wool. His hips flex into my touch.
“Jonah—”
“Step back, baby.”
I move back until the cold granite presses against my backside. His hands grip my waist and lift, setting me on the countertop. The heat from his kiss and warm hands at my breasts erase the chill of the icy rock against my bare skin.
He presses himself between my legs, gripping my hips with impatience. I fumble with his belt and zipper, his breath escaping on a hiss when I finally release him. I gasp as he slides a hand between my legs, forcing a tremble of need to slither down my spine.
“Jonah, the bed. Now.” His barely-there touch and gentle coaxing has me begging for his possession.
A flash of his one-dimple smile and heavy eyelids almost push me to the edge. He works between my legs with magical fingers. With my hands braced behind me, I press against his hand.
“Not going to the bed, baby. I want to watch us.”
His words are confusing, but I’m too lost in the sensations to ask for explanation. My heart races; pleasure coils deep in my belly. A moan falls from my lips. He moves his hand, and I miss it for a second before I feel his heat press against me.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He buries himself deep and captures my mouth. With one thrust, my vision explodes in Technicolor sparks. Tingling shards of ecstasy flood my body. I call out his name, rolling my hips and riding out my release. He covers my neck and shoulder in wet kisses. Caught up in my free fall, I wrap my legs around his waist and rock against him, greedy for more.
“So fucking pretty.” He runs his hands from my hips to my knees and behind him to my calves. “Love your shoes, baby. I want to feel them digging into my back. Wrap me tight.”
A sagging puppet at his mercy, I lock my ankles behind his back. He braces his hands on the counter’s edge, putting distance between our torsos. I watch in fascination as his eyes lower to our connection. I turn to our reflection in the mirror at the end of the double-sink countertop.
The visual of our bodies loving each other in an erotic rhythm has me memorized. His multi-colored biceps contract. Abdominal muscles ripple with every flex of his hips. My body sways in time with each delicious thrust, back and forth in waves.
For the first time, I see myself the way Jonah sees me: sexy, alluring, and even tempting. My long legs, tipped with stilettos, are wrapped tightly around his waist. Our eyes meet in the mirror. No smiles now.
Only scorching fire.
We watch our reflection and the pleasure builds. Our eyes lock in intimacy, liberating us of our need for words.
His gaze drops to my breasts, the driving power making them bounce. He bends forward, taking one into his mouth, and flicking the tip with his tongue. I grind into him harder, desperate for more contact.
A current builds, starting loose in my torso and condensing in my stomach. My lips part to accommodate my labored breath.
He pulls back, locks eyes with mine, and bites his lip. My hands sift through his hair and to pull his mouth to mine. A groan rumbles in his chest. His fingers dig into my bottom, the pinch against the sensitive flesh pushing me higher.
And like a lightning strike, I’m hit. My insides, once liquid, crystalize and shatter in pulses of euphoria. I throw my head back and moan. I fight to stay upright as my body enjoys the blissful indulgence.
He collapses on top of me before I feel his teeth sink into my shoulder. I tilt my head, and he groans against my skin, his body jolting from the power of his release.
My arms shake with the reverberations of my orgasm or from the strain of holding up our weight. He must sense my struggle and lifts his body to pull me to his chest.
Jonah holds me close, running his fingers through my hair while I come down and catch my breath. He places soft kisses on my face before we’re drawn to our reflection.
He smiles. “That was hot.”
I blush and agree. “Blazing.”
“I’m buying you a pair of those shoes in every color they make.”
“They’re 500 dollars.”
“Make that two pair in every color.”
His expression is serious, and I burst into laughter. All of the stress and pressure I’d been feeling from earlier dissolve to a distant memory.
With a small effort, Jonah lifts me from the counter and places me on my wobbly legs. I look down and notice his pants are still around his ankles. He kicks them off and kneels in front of me. One by one, he slips off my shoes so that we’re both standing naked.
He pulls me into his arms. “You doing better?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, remembering the state Jonah found me in earlier. “Guess I just needed the release.”
His body shakes with silent laughter. What is it with his sense of humor? I pull back enough to show him my confusion.
“Guess you got your release . . . twice.”
“Jonah!” I slap his arm and my face flames.
“Ow!” His humor fades and something serious works behind his eyes. “I Hhate seeing you like that.”
“It’s okay—”
“No. It’s not. I can’t wait for this shit to be over. For you to be free of . . .”
I rest my cheek against his chest and sigh. “Me too.”
He reaches over and flips on the shower. The room fills with steam. “Come on. I’ll get you all cleaned up. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Big day?”
His eyebrows hit his hairline.
My hand covers my mouth as realization dawns.
Tomorrow I meet his mom.