Chapter Five
Jade awoke from a nightmare to the sound of screaming. Panicked, her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room. She twisted awkwardly, her limbs tangling in the sheets as her hyperventilating gasp choked off her shrill cries. The door burst open and there, looking disheveled and fierce, stood Jeremy, aiming a handgun directly at her.
Eyes wide, she whimpered and scurried back the headboard.
His eyes scoured every nook and cranny of the room, landing on her in a hard scowl. “What the hell happened?”
The events of the previous evening came hurtling back to her. Kat’s wedding, driving home with Jeremy, crying, Jeremy kissing her, him carrying her to his bed. Well, a bed. He’d apparently slept somewhere else.
“Jade!” He did something with the gun that made it click before he lowered it. “Why were you screaming?”
It was a dream. She’d only had a bad dream. For a moment, she thought a faceless man was chasing her. Shutting her eyes, she sighed and smiled. Dreaming meant she’d slept.
“What the hell is so amusing? It sounded like someone was murdering you up here.”
He was so cute, all serious and prepared to blow away whatever frightened her. How close was that gun that he had it locked and loaded in the time it took her to belt out a scream? She hoped he kept it in a secure and safe place when Mia visited. She’d mention that to him later.
“Jade!” he snapped, demanding her attention. “What happened?”
Okay, funny time over. “Um, I had a bad dream, then I woke up and I didn’t know where I was.” She gave him an apologetic grin and his shoulders relaxed with a huff.
“You didn’t want to sleep at your apartment last night so I brought you here.”
“I know. I remember, now. I was disoriented when I woke, that’s all. But the good news is I slept. Where’s your bathroom?”
He made an awkward nod and hitched a thumb over his shoulder, rapidly dismantling the gun in the next second. “Through that door. When you’re finished, come down for breakfast.”
It wasn’t a question, or at least wasn’t one where he was going to wait around for an answer. Shaking his head, he turned and disappeared down the hall.
After freshening up, she searched Jeremy’s cabinets. She told herself she was looking for a new toothbrush, but really, she was searching for clues about the man.
Unfortunately, her search revealed nothing interesting, just some over the counter medicine, shaving cream, a razor, toothpaste, floss, aftershave, and regrettably, a partially used box of condoms. She tried not to think about who was using Jeremy’s condoms. Finding an unopened princess toothbrush—probably purchased for Mia—she brushed her teeth.
The delicious scent of coffee and bacon greeted her at the bottom of the steps. Wandering through the unfamiliar home, her nose guided her toward the kitchen.
The house was nice, simple. It was clearly a bachelor pad, white walls adorned with mismatched picture frames surrounding utilitarian furniture. It seemed too vacant, lacking in personal belongings.
Rumpled blankets hung off the couch. In the corner, a toy chest overflowed with dolls. A door in the hall was slightly open, leading to carpeted steps. Jeremy worked from home, doing something with computers. That was probably his office.
Entering the small, eat-in-kitchen, she grinned as Jeremy spooned scrambled eggs onto a plate. His bed head was gone, replaced with damp blond spikes, and he now wore a shirt. Pity.
“Perfect timing.” He carried two plates to the table.
“Smells delicious.” Sliding onto a chair, she kept her eyes on her food and slowly picked up her fork. Sneaking a glance at him, he squared off a bite and shoved it into his mouth as if he were alone. The awkward silence stretched as she slowly nibbled at her food.
This is weird. Just say something. Comment on the weather, or Mia, or the fact that you’re still wearing his shirt.
Here she was, at Jeremy’s house, wearing his clothes, after sleeping in his bed. As she used the last bite of her toast to shovel the remaining crumbs of egg into her mouth, she looked up and stilled. He was watching her.
“What?” She self-consciously wiped her mouth.
“I’m glad you like my eggs. It’s one of the few things I can cook.”
“I was starving. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”
“Didn’t you eat at the wedding?”
“I, uh, didn’t have much of an appetite.” She took a sip of her coffee and immediately regretted it. Grimacing, she swilled the bitter mix around in her mouth for a second, contemplating anywhere other than her stomach to put the putrid brew, and haltingly swallowed.
“Sorry about the coffee. Here, try adding some sugar.” The bowl slid across the table. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mmm, like a rock. Thanks for letting me crash here. Your bed’s really comfortable.”
He didn’t reply, so she assumed it was his bed. Were they going to talk about her disgraceful outburst last night, or more importantly, the kiss?
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” She tipped her head toward the den. “I could’ve slept on the couch.” Or you could have shared the bed… She quickly recalled how skittish she’d been each time he touched her yesterday. Now, in his kitchen, wearing his shirt, she felt braver.
He mumbled something and stood, taking their plates to the sink.
“I’ll do the dishes. It’s only fair since you cooked.”
“I’d rather talk than worry about the dishes right now.” He returned to his seat, all humor gone from his expression.
Shrinking under his scrutiny, she played dumb. “About what?”
“About what’s going on with you.”
It was probably a good idea to talk to someone about what happened and Kat was off limits until her honeymoon was over. She took a deep breath and stood.
“Fine. But if we’re going to have some drawn-out conversation at least let me make some decent coffee.”
She dumped the remainder of sludge down the drain. It looked more like syrup than coffee. When she lifted the filter trap she identified the problem. “Holy shit, Jeremy. How many scoops do you use?”
He negligently lifted one broad shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess it.”
“Well, for future reference, you only need four heaping scoops.” Then, for some stupid reason, she added, “Can’t expect your lady friends to hang around if your coffee sucks.”
He grunted. “I don’t bring lady friends to my home. It’s a place for my daughter, no one else.”
Then what am I? “Oh.” Restarting the coffee cycle, she returned to her seat without making eye contact.
“Why are you acting so different lately?”
Silently examining the surface of the table, she shrugged. She wanted to tell him, but it wasn’t easy to find the words. Her somewhat pleasant mood wilted, her yummy breakfast curdling in her belly.
How did one confess something so horrid? Words darted through her head, simple and unattached to emotions because if she didn’t vocalize them, they weren’t real. But the longer she fumbled for an explanation for her recent behavior the more their meaning set in.
Sinking into her chair, she searched her brain for the right words. Rape. I was raped. Drugged. I think someone drugged me. Someone broke into my house. Or, no… Someone took me home after…
Fuck. She didn’t know what exactly happened to her, but she hated it. Hated imagining it. Hated trying to fill in the ugly fucking holes. She let out a frustrated breath. She couldn’t explain because there was no simple explanation. And the complicated ones made her physically ache to rip off her skin and scream like a lunatic. “I don’t know.”
“Something’s bothering you, Jade. I’ve known you since we were kids and I’ve never seen you lose it like you did yesterday.”
“I had a bad day.” True and concise.
“Why? Kat’s been your best friend since I can remember. You get along great with Tyson from what I can tell. You seemed happy for them at the rehearsal—”
“I am happy for them,” she interrupted.
“Then what’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
She did know, but she wasn’t sure how to frame the reason for him. If she told him, would he launch into a full blown rage, insisting she go to the police, and everyone, including Kat who was currently preparing for her once in a lifetime honeymoon, would be devastated by the disgusting news? Or would he question her, not believe her? Maybe blame her? No, he wouldn’t blame her. But for some reason, she felt to blame.
“You can tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll keep it between the two of us.”
Scooting a grain of sugar over the tabletop with the tip of her finger, she turned phrases over in her mind hoping one slipped out. I was raped. Someone drugged me. Can you teach me how to use a gun? I’m losing my mind.
This time when the term rape echoed through her head it jarred something loose in her chest. A painful ache climbed up her back, pressing through her breastbone and her lungs tightened.
Leaning closer, he stilled her fingers and gently gripped her hand. “Tell me.”
The contact flustered her. She didn’t normally get flustered by men and found it irritating. But then nothing was the way it was before…
“I can’t.” The truth of that statement added to her aggravation.
“Why?”
Just say it.
“Jade?”
“Because I don’t know!” she snapped. Letting out a frustrated breath, she apologized. “Sorry.”
His eyes were vacant of anything other than concern. “What don’t you know?”
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she muttered.
“Are you sick?” he quietly asked.
A humorless laugh slipped past her lips as her vision blurred. Was she sick? She could be. Suddenly nauseous, she pulled her legs to her chest and rested her cheek on her knees.
In a barely audible voice, he asked, “Is that it?”
A tear slipped from her eye and she quickly grabbed the baggy collar of his T-shirt and blotted it away.
“Have you talked to a doctor?”
Overwhelmed, her feet dropped to the floor. This wasn’t Jeremy’s problem. She’d thought she could talk to him about this, but she was wrong.
With what she hoped was convincing assuredness, she said, “I’m not sick.”
What if that was a lie? What if she had contracted AIDS or some other sexually transmitted disease? She was such an idiot for not going to the hospital. She knew better. She worked at one and knew rape protocol. Jesus fucking Christ, that word!
He tilted his head. “Well, then what?”
Gazing toward the door through a wall of an unshed wall of tears, she gave him all the information she could offer at the moment. “I’m just dealing with some things right now and I have to deal with them on my own.” She stood, accepting that she, unfortunately, needed to leave.
He stood as well and frowned. “What’re you doing?”
“I have to go, Jeremy. Thank you for letting me stay last night, but I have to get back to … my life.” The thought of her apartment made her cringe. Maybe she’d stay at Kat’s tonight since her and Ty wouldn’t be there.
He took a hesitant step forward and she sent him a staying—pleading—glance, praying he wouldn’t make her exit more difficult than it already was. How tempting to simply pretend life was a-okay and waste the morning in his home, in his bed.
But everything was different now. She was a risk factor and until she understood the full consequence of what happened, she couldn’t proceed. Not with him or anyone for that matter. More resentment bubbled up inside of her. The inferiority of being physically smaller than the opposite sex set fire to her inner rage and made her want to hit something.
His concerned frown morphed into an intense scowl. “What the fuck, Jade?” He tugged the drooping collar of her shirt away from her shoulder and she instinctively shoved him away. On the tail of being the physically weaker sex realization, she lost it. “Get the fuck off of me!”
But he was too big, too strong, and too in control. He jerked the collar down, exposing the burn. She met his eyes and her lip quivered, her heart plummeting into her feet.
There was something familiar about it, something that pissed her off beyond its link to recent events. She glared at him and yanked herself out of reach. “Back off,” she snapped, covering the wound.
It had become an unattractive scab, resembling some kind of fancy symbol. Clearly not just a scrape. The detail of the burn—she was now certain someone had branded her—was put there for a reason. A fucked up reminded that some sociopath had touched her and she’d never fully wash that truth away.
“What the hell is that, Jade?”
“Mind your own business.” She adjusted her clothing.
“Did you do that to yourself? Why?”
“It’s none of your business!” She turned to escape the inquisition and he grabbed her wrist in a startlingly tight grip. Without thinking, her fist shot out and connected with his nose.
His hold broke. “Goddamn it!” He cupped his face and her eyes went wide.
The instinctual reaction took her as off guard as it apparently took him, but she wasn’t the one bleeding. “Ohmygod!”
“What the fuck, Jade!”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I just did that. I don’t know why I did that. Here, sit down. I’ll get some paper towels.”
She rushed to the counter and yanked the roll of paper towels off the rack, filling his hands with a wad. Racing back to the sink, she wet another gob of paper. She winced at the agitated way he glared at her over the stained mess.
“I’m sorry. Here.” She removed the dry towels and replaced them with the damp ones. “It’s not that bad. I don’t think it’s broken. It’s just bleeding. Tilt your head back.”
She pulled the blood-soaked paper away from his face and wiped away the mess. He looked furious so she gave him a nervous smile. “S-see, it already stopped bleeding. Aside from a little pain and wounded pride, I’d say you’re as good as new.”
He reached for his glass and took a sip as he continued to grimace.
Jade nervously rambled while cleaning up the soiled paper towels. “Yup, looks like your run of the mill anterior nosebleed, which really is the most common kind of nosebleed.” She tossed the used towels in the trash. “It comes from the front of the nose. Capillaries, or very small blood vessels, inside the nose break and bleed, causing the blood to flow and eventually clot.”
Life she couldn’t do, but nursing was as natural as breathing to her.
She moved to take the last towel he blotted at his face and examined him carefully. It really wasn’t a serious injury.
Standing in the space between his knees, she twisted to grab a clean towel from the table to wipe a missed spatter as she continued to babble. “This wasn’t a posterior nosebleed, which occurs most often in older people who…”
Her gaze met his and she shut up. His shoulders were slowly moving up and down as he breathed deeply. He appeared to be holding onto his control by an overtaxed thread.
He was either going to kiss her or strangle her. And being that she’d just punched him in the face, her money was on the latter. Swallowing, she nervously laughed and hastily untangled her legs from between his.
He lunged so fast she gasped. His body blanketed hers against the table as his hand cupped her ass, lifting and sending chairs skidding across the kitchen floor, his mouth crashing against hers.
His tongue shoved between her lips as she gasped, probing, demanding control of the kiss, as he pressed his hips into the cradle of her thighs and backed her to the table. Her eyes widened. He was rock hard.
A sense of victory washed over her, fast and only slightly blurred by unwelcome emotions. She wasn’t sure how this happened, but dear Gawd, the man could kiss. Her legs tightened around his trim hips and her fingers flew into his hair, tugging hungrily.
Gathering the hem of her shirt, he yanked it upward. “Lay back,” he growled between kisses, as he shoved her more onto the table.
Her hands tightened in his gorgeous, sun kissed blond hair as his mouth traveled down her neck. Breathing fast, his fingertips skated along the soft flesh of her belly to the underside of her breast. He whispered her name in a husky voice, pulling her legs around his back as his mouth devoured hers.
This was not the man who kissed her last night. This was a man on the brink of losing control, a wild animal free of its cage. And she wanted more—
Her mind fractured in two as strong fingers closed around her nipple. Her inner hedonist reveled while some deeply devastated part of her cringed and her body locked up.
No! You’re not going to freak out!
For a year, she’d prepared for this very moment and she wasn’t going to ruin it. He ground himself into her sex and she gasped, fighting back the voice screaming in her head. Her conscience recoiled, as she forced all the fear away, refusing to acknowledge the timid shrieks building in her mind. If she could just let go, maybe the fear would go away.
Stop. Get off. I can’t breathe. “Don’t stop,” she hissed, as his hips continued to rock and her mind rapidly unraveled.
“Can you come like this?” The denim of his jeans abraded the thin silk barrier of her panties.
Sure, she could come. I think I can come. Concentrating on her body’s natural reflexes, the precarious tease of pleasure evaded her. His tongue stole deeper into her mouth as his grip tightened. Frustration built as her body lacked any typical response.
What the fuck? Work, damn it!
“I want you to come,” he whispered, cupping her breasts and dragging his thumbs over the engorged tips as he ground his erection against her panties.
So do I!
Eyes squeezed tight, she anxiously waited for that tip of pleasure to send her over the edge, but the elusive orgasm wouldn’t come. Tears stung her eyes as flashes of the other morning clouded her mind.
No! Put that shit away!
If she burst into tears he’d think she was insane and that would definitely scare him off. Biting her lip, she regrettably did what she promised to never do. She had to. It was the only way to hide the fact that she was broken and possibly dying on the inside. Forcing out a sensual moan, she gasped and gasped again.
His lips kissed up her neck as she panted and cried out in artificial bliss. Her thighs clenched around his hips as she made her muscles tremble. Her performance was award-winning but came with an expensive chunk of her pride.
She didn’t fake orgasms—ever. The fact that she’d faked one with Jeremy made her insides curl into shriveled bits of foregone self-worth. More secrets between them…
Easing back, he stared at her with drowsy eyes. Her legs slid down his hips as he lifted her to his chest. Carrying her to the living room, he carefully adjusted their position as he sat on the couch.
Focusing on anything other than how fake she was, she tried to be herself—someone she was rapidly losing. “Well…” She laughed nervously. “That was new.”
A deep chuckle rumbled through his muscled chest as he kissed the top of her head. “Do you object?”
“Yes, I highly object to any earth shattering orgasms before ten in the morning.” God, she was such a fucking phony. If her track record didn’t make her throw up, her lies might.
They sat in silence for a several long moments. The burn of his stubble lingered on her cheeks. She stared at the pile of toys in the corner, so normal and appropriately chaotic. Blinking in the silence, she swallowed. It wasn’t going to go away. What happened to her couldn’t be buried or forgotten—even if she couldn’t ... remember.
She wouldn’t be able to hide it from him forever, especially if this was the direction their relationship was heading. She’d waited so long for him to get his hands on her and she’d ruined it. Their first kiss was over her tears. Their second was on the tail of her assault and battery outburst this morning. And she’d just faked an orgasm. Stunning firsts all around.
Her hatred needed a target, but she only could aim it at a blank spot, so she turned her anger on herself. Ignorance was impossible, even when she knew very little about what she actually suffered.
It was over. Why couldn’t she just forget what happened and get on with her life?
Shutting her eyes, she accepted that wasn’t going to happen. There would be no going back to the girl she was a few days ago. She liked that girl, admired her confidence, took pride in her independence, and drew pleasure from her sexual assuredness. But now that girl was gone, and here she sat, on the lap of a man she lusted after for a solid year, a scared, helpless, sexually frustrated girl who couldn’t find her way home.
A tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn’t do this. It was too hard. She’d rather not have him at all than chance ruining the hope of having something great with him.
This would be the last time she let herself get close to him—at least until she made some sense about what happened and figured out how to cope with the aftermath. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she couldn’t involve him, couldn’t bear showing him this filthy blotch on her soul.
She didn’t want him to know this sniveling person she’d become. She wanted strong Jade back. That was who she’d always been—that was the only person she wanted to be.