Chapter Five
Jona
There’s gotta be a handbook for this.
A, you spent your entire life high as shit, and now you finally got the woman you loved to say yes handbook. Followed by a, don’t blow it, life’s nothing without her manual. Oh, and let’s not forget the, I have no idea how to be a boyfriend guide.
But she’s mine now. She’s mine.
Shit, she’s mine.
I glance over at her in the front seat of my Mustang. I haven’t told her that I have no idea where I’m going because she’s probably waiting for me to do something me-like, like ditch her at a bar for some blond. They didn’t have to be blond, but it helped their cause not to be a brunette. It was hard to use a woman when they looked like the one I lost and the one I could never have.
Or so I thought.
My palms are sweating, and my heart’s wondering what the hell I’m doing.
Boring … what’s boring? I look out my window, scanning the shops on either side of the street. Downtown’s some ways away, but I know one spot she likes. Flutes. An open mic club we’ve played together at by the university.
“Flutes?”
She shakes her head, staring straight. “I can’t sing.”
“Right.” Her throat. My fingers drum on the steering wheel. I get an idea, fishing my cell from my pocket. I stop at a red light and text Jacob. Whatever he says has to be boring.
Me: What’s your idea of the perfect date?
Jacob: Dinner and a movie. They’re playing Honors Bliss right now at the movies by campus. It’s a rom-com. Female friendly. It’s a good idea to make them laugh.
Is he out of his ever-loving-virgin mind? I want boring. Not painful. Noob. “We’re going to dinner. Deal with it. Anything you want? Think normal. Lame. Not the taco and beer runs we usually make.”
She moans longingly. “Mmm, tacos and beer. That sounds so good.”
In all actuality, I only had enough money for tacos and beer. I don’t have the heart to tell her this either. That this is the guy she just let inside. I simply drive to the south end of the coast, pulling up outside Shore’s, a Mexican restaurant and bar. Everything always ends up here, on the beach. In the sand and water followed by the moon.
If we stop now, the momentum of our emotional choices won’t reflect anything we end up doing.
“What’s this?” she asks right before I get out. She’s holding up a hairclip. Blond strands of hair hang ominously from the black teeth. She opens and closes the clip, expression steely.
I sit back down in the front seat, fearing the momentum’s going to stop and send us crashing violently into the wall. We can’t keep crashing. I don’t know how much more of it I can take. “Some weird sex toy?” I shrug. “It’s a hairclip, Jus. We just started this shit an hour ago. You already trying to mess it up?”
She purses her lips. “I don’t like the idea of you with another woman. I never did. It killed me, Jona, every single time. Forced me into bed with so many men it sickened me trying to replace you. I can’t do that anymore. I …” She cringes, and I know she’s about to say something she can’t take back; my ears and heart hold their breath. “I need you.”
My lips lift into a grin. “You need me?”
She glares, dark eyes burning. She looks different. Soft, vulnerable. I imagine being choked by your father can do that to a person. My fist bunches on my lap. I shove it in my pocket to hide it. I’d keep looking for him. I’d make him know that he almost stole my heart and that his will never beat the same way again.
“Let’s go.” She drops the clip on the floor.
My fist unhinges, reaching across the seat for her hand. When she looks back, I don’t know what to do. The pain in her eyes isn’t like it was before. It’s overshadowing her, not strengthening her. “It’s probably Monika’s.” When her eyes burn with fury, I hurriedly continue. “She’s one of the chicks we met on the beach the other night. I bought them booze, and we hung out. I did not hook up with her. At all. She reminded me of Hillary, that’s it. I wanted to make sure she got home safe.”
She holds my gaze, probing me for lies. I don’t know if she believes me—girls like Justine don’t believe—but she has to try now, and I think that might scare her the most.
Finally, she sighs, looking down at our hands. “Not every girl is like Hillary. You can’t spend your life trying to save every girl you meet because they might get hurt too.”
“I can try.” Justine was there when we found her. She knows what I know.
But Justine didn’t throw that party, and she didn’t look the motherfucker who hurt her in the eye and smile. I invited a monster into my house. The least I can do is warn others.
“You have to forgive yourself.” She flicks her gaze to mine and then away, closing my car door softly.
I follow. “How many other women do you think I’ve hurt? How many came to my parties and tried to say no?” I can feel the bile in my throat, burning me with my mistakes. “My mom was raped,” I reveal, ignoring her gasp of shock. “On our way home. First grade. They dragged her away and held me there to watch. She started getting high to deal with it. Heroin. Then she started getting high more than she started taking care of me. I’d go days without seeing her. Days and days of being hungry and lonely. I didn’t know my dad,” I continue, spilling my guts with the darkest parts of my soul and uncaring that it will make me pay later. “She was all I had. And I know, I know, that it was hard for her. I was there.” I clear my throat, pushing the memories of her screaming in the alley from my mind as I fought with all my might to save her. I failed her. I couldn’t save her. “She dumped me off one day at the library. I don’t know why she picked it, but she did. I went inside, and the librarian helped me pick a book after she saw me wondering around. Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs.” I pause to smirk sadly. “I loved that book.” I ignore the tears welling in her eyes and continue. She has to know that I’m done with that life.
“She never came back. She left me there. Probably to save me, but all she really did was hurt me. I hated everyone, Justine, from that day forward. I felt nothing. Not for myself, not for anyone else. Not until I met you. I took one look at you, and my heart pounded—it had never done that. I knew I’d probably never feel anything else like that again, and I never tried. It was always you, from day one, but I’m fucked up. I know it. I’ve been high more than I’ve been down. But I’m trying, baby. Hillary could have been my mom. How many other women did my parties hurt? I can’t forgive myself for that.”
She shakes her head and comes for me, wrapping me in her arms. I don’t like to be held, have never been. I’ve held myself up my entire life and trusting another person to do it only feels like bracing for impact. Although I had help from Whiskey and my good old friend, Ecstasy. They kept me up when Justine wasn’t around, but they’d only hurt Hillary the way my mother had been hurt. I press my face in her hair, trying to find a part of me that can figure out where to go from here.
“Let’s go eat.”
“But—” she starts.
“It’s cool. We don’t need to talk about it.” I drop my arm around her shoulder, ignoring her concerned gaze. “Come on. There’s a taco in there with my name on it.”
“Don’t,” she warns, wrapping her arm around my waist.
I don’t listen. “A pink taco.”
“Jona.”
“With extra sour cream.”
“Gross.”
“Ah, she loves it extra saucy.”
“What’s her name?”
“Justine.”
“Hmm. She sounds sexy,” she purrs.
“Oh, she is.”
“Describe her.”
“She’s got these brown eyes. They’re always bad and gleaming. Like sin and magic. She doesn’t know it, but sometimes after we hook up and she falls asleep, I lay there and look at her. I love her face. Could stare at it for hours. It’s perfect. Symmetrical. Her nose, her soft pink lips, and her lightly tanned skin. She tortures me.”
“What else?” she demands when I stop.
I shake my head. “That’s all you get.” We’re approaching the pier, and our feet pound on the worn wood. I open the restaurant door and urge her inside, ignoring her flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes. Now is not the time. I’d like to bend her over that motorcycle back there and fill her until she was screaming, but I won’t.
The hostess turns around and pauses, her lips lifting in a welcoming smile. She’s cute, I guess. Blond. My Justine-alternative. Most women were an I guess. A second-hand choice I had to make.
“How many?” she asks, batting her golden lashes at me.
“Two,” Justine says coldly, grabbing hold of my hand.
I love it when she gets jealous. I give the hostess a flirty smile and a wink. A moment later, Justine’s nails dig into my forearms. The rush of pain goes straight to my cock. “Harder,” I whisper.
She reaches forward stealthily and knocks her fist into my groin, making me double-over in the middle of the waiting area. “Asshole.” She stomps her sexy ass in front of me as I try not to puke.
The pain is teetering on the other side of sexy, but I still somehow manage to maintain my hard on. I give the other hostess a forced smile. “She’s got a tick.”
She sneers at me. You can’t please everyone. Or lanky acne laden hostesses who can’t recognize a gorgeous bastard when they see one for that matter either.
I catch up in time to watch Justine ease herself down into a booth. She’s wearing a pair of black jean shorts tonight, paired with her hoodie. Her hair’s in a ponytail, and her face is makeup free. I hadn’t grabbed any makeup, but she’d also left her duffle bag at my place the day she came back home. I’d put her things away in my drawers.
I take a seat across from her and pick up my menu.
“Can I get you two something to drink?”
“Type AB positive for my bloodthirsty girlfriend, please.” I smirk at my menu. “And a sweet tea for me.”
“Umm … we only have O negative,” the waitress joins in.
I laugh raucously, peering at Justine to find her glaring furiously. Her boot crashes into my shin, cutting off my laugh with a stab of pain. That’s us. A stab of pain away from happiness.
“Two sweet teas,” I grumble, tucking my legs under me.
“Coming right up.” The waitress scurries away.
I, on the other hand, am stuck with my succubus. And I can’t wait for her to devour my soul. I imagine her feasting on me, my blood dripping down her chin, stuck in her nails. My cock is so hard it’s painful.
“I’m only teasing.”
“This is the kind of shit that blows up in our faces. Now I should tease you. Make you feel like you don’t matter.” She hides behind her menu. “Then you’ll make me feel like I never will. We’ll fight. We’ll separate. I’ll spend weeks, months, with men I don’t want. Then we’ll start all over again.”
In seconds, I feel like an asshole. “Old habits, baby. No more games. I like it when you’re jealous, that’s all. I’m an immature little d-bag with a small cock.”
She cracks a small smile. “Everything’s true except the last part.”
My wink says that I know. “Best thing about me, eh?”
Her gaze shifts from angry and teasing, to soft and open. It’s so new on her face, so fragile. It terrifies me. I’m not sensitive. I’ve broken too many things to be responsible for her heart.
“Not the only thing,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip. The motion sends a rush of heat over me, her teeth biting into her plump pink flesh. I welcome the muggy breeze coming in off the water through the open patio.
Maybe everything I’ve grown used to no longer works. Making her jealous won’t keep us together. It shows she cares, but there’s got to be other ways to know that. I scratch my growing beard, at a loss. Casting a furtive glance around me, I study a couple at the bar. They’re a few years older than us. He looks like a pussy, gazing into her eyes. I snort quietly under my breath when he scrapes his knuckles down her cheek, expecting her to roll her eyes the same way I do. Instead, she blushes.
“Two sweet tea sans blood. Do you know what you want to order?” The waitress sets the glasses down along with straws and then stands there waiting to write.
“I’ll have the taco special. Extra sour cream and guacamole. Steak. Rare,” Jus says snidely, closing her menu with a sharp smack.
They both look at me expectantly when I don’t speak. “I’m not going to make you blush.”
“What?” Justine’s eyebrows draw down.
“That romantic shit isn’t me.”
She doesn’t understand, but she can fathom where I’m at right now. “We’re talking about tacos, Lover. Only tacos.”
I clear my throat and mumble the first thing I see. The waitress takes our menus and doesn’t hesitate to take off, leaving me and my date, girlfriend—I don’t know what we are—alone.
We lock eyes. The bruises on her throat are hard to ignore. I have to. Otherwise, I’ll hunt down her old man, and there won’t even be an us to ruin.
“This is ridiculous,” I manage, running both hands through my hair.
“That’s because we’re trying to be people we’re not.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t have much to pull from.”
She sighs, pulling her tea close and taking a sip. “As long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter how we’re doing it.”
She has a point. For all I know, the gag-worthy couple at the bar is cheating on their spouses. “Fine. Let’s be ourselves.” I settle into the booth and bring my tea with me, pulling in a long ice-cold sweet drag. “I want to eat your pussy on top of this table.”
“Mmm. I’m not sure that’s up to the safety code of the restaurant.”
“I’m not up to any safety codes, but you’ve never been able to resist me.”
“I have a high tolerance to germs.” She shrugs, wrapping her tongue around her straw with her brows quirked. “That’s if I want to sleep with you at all. You think I’m putting out after this cheap date?”
I get an idea suddenly. “How about you don’t?”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t put out for a while. Justine, you drive me crazy. You’re drinking a glass of tea right now, and all I can think about is you wrapping that same tongue you have on your straw around my dick. You don’t need me all over you right now—”
“You’re the only thing I need right now. Jona, would you relax? Please. You’re making me nervous, and I don’t get nervous. Breathe,” she orders.
I take a deep breath, even if that’s a bad precedent to set. Me, on my knees, following her vixen-like demands. Her long curvy body naked save for a pair of red heels, her lips slathered scarlet, her pink pussy waiting for my—shit! I don’t think she understands what she does to me. I couldn’t think about being with her and concentrate on not nailing her at the same time.
“How long do you think you’d last?”
“Without sex?” She nods to my question, already grinning. She knows damn well I couldn’t last an hour. But her complete lack of humility pisses me off. “A month.”
She spits tea all over me, laughing loudly. “Yeah, right.”
I grab napkins and dab at my shirt and face. I have to admit the sound of her laugh is lovely, even at my expense. “I can last a month. I’ve done it before.”
“No. You’ve gone that long without me, but you always have someone. When’s the last time you went more than a week without sex?” She props her chin on her hand, pompously waiting for an answer she knows I don’t have.
I don’t even bother pretending. Sex is living, and I can’t remember I’m alive until I’m inside of someone … anyone. “I could do it.”
“You’d never last.”
“What if I do?”
Her eyes spark. “You want to make a bet?”
“What’s on the line?”
Her lips remain sealed. She isn’t going to give me what I want—she doesn’t know.
“You move into my place. If I go one month without penetration—I say that because there are a million other things we can do besides sex—then you stay there.”
She works her lips, studying me intently. “I move in with you?”
“Yes.”
“We live … like a couple? Sleep in the same bed, kiss each other goodnight?” She looks away for a second after I nod before returning her gaze to mine. “You’re going down, Lover. You can’t have all of this and not touch.” She runs a teasing hand down the front of her sweater over her tits. “You’re addicted to temptation.”
I ignore her goading. Never underestimate a man and his heart. “What do you get if I fail?”
“When you fail, which we both know you will, then you propose.” Her eyes become sinful, delicious dark chocolate orbs.
It’s my turn to spit. “You want me to marry you?”
“I want you to propose. I’ll decide if we’re getting married or not. I’m sticky.” She dabs at her face and sweater indignantly, but her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a hint of excitement back in her eyes.
A different server comes over with our food. He places down two plates with a smile at my woman and then leaves to get her the hot sauce she requests. Once he’s gone, I relax and dig in. All while I force my ass in my chair. If I run now, this is it.
She won’t come back. The walls are down, and there’s nothing to bring us together if we blow this. I sneak a glance at her. She tilts her head sideways and bunches the corn tortillas in her hand, so it fits between her lips. She takes a bite and moans, closing her eyes in bliss. I can’t blow this.
Hot sauce drips down her chin. Her bright pink tongue shoots out to lick it up. I swallow hard. What am I thinking? One month?
“Does masturbating to you count as cheating?”
“You do that too?” Her eyes twinkle.
“Too?” When she doesn’t answer, I swipe my fork through my rice and beans. “Does it?”
“Umm … yes, it does. Because my image is up there with the real thing. No masturbating, period. In fact, no nothing for you period. You can do all you want to me, as long as your dick doesn’t leave your pants.”
“So, I can still eat your pussy?” She nods brusquely, business-like as if we’re not talking about rules and sex. “Kiss you?” Another nod. “What about dry humping?”
“There’s friction. No.”
“What if I come without even touching myself?”
“I didn’t know Jacob and you were that close.”
“Har har.” I shove my own taco into my mouth, finishing it in two bites. “Okay.”
“Okay,” she concedes, licking sour cream from her finger. Her eyes flash to mine. “I am going to own you, Jona Kyles.”
I wink.
Inside, all I can think is, you already do. What’s one more torture-filled month? In the end, I doubt she’ll say yes when I ask her to marry me. She’ll still live with me. She’ll be close—I want her close to me. To feel her, touch her, to know she’s not anywhere else.
“Give me a bite.” I nod at her chicken tacos.
She gathers her last one and shakes her head. “All mine.” Then she shoves the entire thing into her mouth and moans deeply, sending the blood to my groin. “Oh, Jona, this taco takes so good. So spicy and flavorful. Mmm.” She moans looking into my eyes. “You remember that one time we were hold up during a hurricane? Twenty-four hours together. We were eighteen probably. I still think of that.”
I smile, sensing her nefarious plan to torture me has already commenced. “We had sex ten times. I broke your pussy in real good, didn’t I, baby?”
“Mhm, you so did.” She smiles knowingly back at me. “And my ass.”
I chuckle. “You let anyone else in since me?”
Her head shakes. “My ass is only yours.”
“Really?” I can’t help the surprise in my voice. What can I say? There are no flowers here. Only ass and tacos.
“Really. I’d never give another man that kind of power over me.”
I wonder what other powers I have over her. “We’ll, mine is yours too, I guess.”
“You can keep it.” Her husky chuckle is so damn sexy. “I’ve smelled what you do with it.”
I was talking about my power. “Ditto.”
She gasps, reaching across the table to swat me. “No, you haven’t.”
“Two words: baked beans.”
“Grow up,” she sneers, cheeks pink with genuine embarrassment. “Farting isn’t funny. It’s an unfortunate side-effect. How old are you?”
I glance pointedly at her pinto beans. “Gonna be a long night, ain’t it, baby?”
“Yes, because I’m going to ruin you.” Any sympathy she had is gone. “How are you going to make money if you’re not selling dope or throwing parties?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. With her living with me now, that’s also one more body to take care of. “Maybe I can get a job?”
“I’ll get one too. I worked at the diner by the university for a while after high school. Maybe I can get us back in.”
No way am I slinging burgers and pancakes. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure out something. Maybe I can hit up Bach? See if the car dealership he’s working for in Houston is hiring?”
She shrivels up her nose. “No. We don’t need him. We can do it together.” She meets my gaze, holding onto it forcefully. “You and me. We’ve never tried that.”
I wonder if the reason she doesn’t want me asking Bach for help is because they used to hook up. I don’t know why her avoiding our past makes me upset. I don’t judge Justine. I’d made worse choices than she knows. We never promised the other anything until today. She made me jealous, pissed me off beyond belief, but I never wanted to hide from the things we’ve done until this past year. I don’t want her feeling that way. There’s no shame here.
I’ll call Bach, but she and I will still do this together.
There’s something tempting about us being a team for once, instead of sparring partners.
***
Justine
Fool.
Like he’d stand an hour, let alone an entire month. I will draw it out, prolong his suffering—I will decimate Jona Kyles as deliciously as I can.
Even if he looks hot eating his tacos, he still has no right to question my ability to follow through. So clear-eyed and … normal. I didn’t think I’d ever like that. Ever want anything sober and forever. He spoons a bite of rice into his mouth and licks his lips, making me swallow hard. I also didn’t know how quickly things could change.
This won’t be easy on me either. He won’t know it, not when I get started, but I’ve never been more tempted by a man like I am with him. There isn’t only right now with Jona. There may not be later, but there’s still that slight edge over me no other man had that kept me coming back.
As long as he behaves. The slut-bag waitress keeps eying him when she refills drinks. The soda fountain is aimed right at his face. I try and swallow my rage. Rage means retribution, and that means losing a man that is my only reason for living. Thinking about him probably saved my life, gave my heart a reason to keep beating.
I can’t lose him. If I don’t consider it a possibility, that means fighting through the hard shit. I can fight, I can win—it’s trusting that what I’m fighting for will still be there when I’m done that’s the problem.
“You ready?” he asks, drinking his tea down to the bottom. “We can go catch a movie or something?”
“A movie? Okay, but you have to make sure I get home before ten. Daddy will ground me.” I bat my lashes at him innocently. “And no necking. I’m a virgin after all.”
He chuckles warmly, eyes filled with humor. It’s a new sight, to see his eyes full of humor instead of drugs. It’s like every time he looks at me it matters now. Before he may have forgotten so much.
“Hands above the waist, promise. What do you want to see?”
I shrug. “I have no idea.” I didn’t go to the movies; he knew that.
“We’ll wing it.” He waves the waitress over, who’s more than happy to oblige.
She bats her dumb blond lashes at him. “How was the meal?”
His eyes flash to mine. I hold my breath, waiting for him to push me too far. Instead, he gives me a small smile I feel in my heart. “Everything was great, thank you. How about you, baby?”
“It was good, Lover.”
His cinnamon eyes are mirthful, making my breath speed up. Maybe going to the movie and being in a dark enclosed environment wouldn’t be such a bad thing. As he pays, I hang behind him, peering over his shoulder to find that he only has a single twenty-dollar bill left after paying and tipping.
A guilty pit forms in my stomach. If we’re going to be living together, he’ll need help. I tuck myself under his arm and against his side as we head out to his car. I haven’t been to the movies since Jona got into a bar fight and we’d decided to meet up here. Those drugged hazy days, of sex and sweat, make me cringe now. Maybe it was the idea of almost disappearing forever that made me want to be aware, even if the gray of my reality is choking, it’s real.
The smell of buttered popcorn assaults me when we head inside the theater. I study the movie listings as Jona watches me. I can feel his eyes. When I peek, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.
His are soft and pliant, melding with mine so perfectly. My eyes slide shut, and my head tilts softly, giving him my lips so completely at that moment I don’t even mind that we’re not alone. His kiss is so tender, so new. My stomach burns with heat, and my heart is pounding, feeling alive for the first time in her entire life.
He pulls away, eyes shining. “Sorry, you looked cute trying to pick a movie you don’t even want to watch.”
Cute? Who abducted my Jona? He’s a fucking hot kind of guy. And I am anything but cute. Sexy, abrasive—that’s me. Feeling off-balance, I look away, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. I’m the one who’s supposed to be in control. Not him.
My lips still tingle from his as I mumble the movie title I remembered from the list above. Something about bliss and honor. I’m not sure what one has to do with the other.
“You want popcorn?”
I glance secretly at the five dollars he has left to his name. “No.”
“You sure? We can get a large one. Share it.”
“We can’t afford it.”
“Hey,” he says softly, grabbing my chin to force my eyes on his. “I didn’t ask you whether we had the money. I asked you what you wanted. Do you want some popcorn or not?”
I don’t know where to look. His eyes, his mouth, his jaw—everything is pulling me in tonight. I nod unthinkingly.
“Good, Justine.” He presses a kiss to my lips, the tenderness of it sending a flood of heat to my core.
I have to shake this off, but there’s no time. He’s got the tickets and the popcorn, and everything smells and looks so good. I follow him into the theater, up the stairs, and to the middle seats in the middle row. He lifts the armrest so there’s no space between us and sets the popcorn in the middle. His arm settles on the back of my chair. The room darkens, and his fingers start playing with the nape of my neck as the screen comes to life.
I’m screwed.
He smells almost as good as the popcorn, breath thick of sweet tea, clothes smelling of fabric softener and his soap. Like wood and fruit.
My breathing deepens. My thighs press together.
One month? Who’s out of their mind more? Him or me?
“Hmm,” he mutters, when the intro starts playing. “Let’s count how many times this broad says ‘like.’”
I focus on the screen momentarily instead of him. She’s a southern belle walking through a meadow with hanging Spanish moss and an obvious forced southern accent as she narrates.
“Love is like a lot of people in one room, and only one person knows what you’re feeling. Like all your insides are connected. Like everything you want they have. It’s like nothing else matters.”
“And I’m the idiot,” he scoffs.
I smirk, settling against him. “Like an idiot.”
“She’s kind of hot, though.”
“Mmm, I guess.” I study her long thin frame. “Skinny hot.”
“Yeah, no curves, but she’s tall. She could hold on herself if you know what I mean.” He nudges me playfully.
“You like curves.”
“Love them. You remember that one summer you went on that low carb diet?”
I think back, frowning. “Yes …”
“Killed me.”
I roll my eyes. “I looked amazing. I didn’t even wear a shirt all summer. Only bikinis.”
“But your curves went away. Your thighs too. Even your tits shrunk. You were everybody else’s hot. I still jacked off to you in the shower, so no worries there, but I’d prefer you how you are now.” His hand settles on my thigh.
“Fat?” I breathe, watching his fingers skim my inner thigh. Oh no, this is going to backfire. “I hooked up with a guy, and he said I was fat that summer. Said he never would’ve touched me if he wasn’t drunk. So, I got hot, and he followed me around like a puppy dog all summer.” His fingers still on the hem of my shorts.
He surprises me by chuckling. “Good.” His fingers resume their teasing, making goosebumps break out across my thighs. “You’ve never been fat. That’s ridiculous. You’re fine as hell.” His lips find my neck as his fingers find my mound. “Shh,” he hushes when I whimper. “Open your legs.”
There’s a couple right in front of us. People behind us. It’s dark, and I’m not shy at all, but I still don’t want to get fingered in front of everyone.
“Not uh,” he murmurs against my skin when I knock his hand aside. “They can’t see us. I promise.”
His fingers press deeply into my mound through my shorts. His lips kiss on my pulse, drawing mouthfuls of my flesh between his teeth. I so want to give in. It would be easy. Unzip my jean shorts and let him have my pussy. But I set the rules here. He’s lucky I’m not turning the tables around on him.
“Unzip your shorts now, or I’ll do it, and I won’t be quiet.” His low hum of a threat makes my pussy clench.
I love Alpha Jona. He hardly ever makes an appearance—I’m queen here—but when he didn’t take no for an answer, I always tightened in anticipation.
“Who’s the boss here?”
“It’s a mutual exchange of power.” He easily unbuckles my shorts and deftly pulls the flaps apart, revealing my bare wanting pussy. When the screen lets off a blue glow, it shows how my mound glistens. He’ll get my clit if he moves for it, but he won’t get my pussy unless I move my legs apart. “Open your legs. Don’t make me sink to my knees in front of everyone. I have nothing to hide. The only person whose opinion matters is yours, and you’re as much a part of this as me.” His hand leaves my lower half alone to reach up and stroke my neck misleadingly soft for a few seconds. To anyone else, it looks like we’re cuddling, watching a romantic comedy. He grabs a fistful of my ponytail and yanks my head back, baring my throat and lips to him. The pull on my scalp sends a rush of desire straight to my clit. “You really want to fucking test me? I’ll have your clit in my mouth before you can take back this little wager. Don’t make me do it.”
My breathing is too loud. The movie’s louder, and everyone around us from what I can tell is lost in the country accent and saccharine charm. I move my thighs apart, granting him access.
He. Is. Going. To. Pay. For. This.
“Good girl,” he purrs, wasting no time. His arm leaves my neck and wedges between us, leaving him enough room to slip between my wet folds. He strokes me, the proof of my wetness making me even more excited. “We’re going to finger your pussy the entire time we watch this movie. After this, I’m yours. You own me. But right now, you’re mine, Justine, and if you disobey me one more time I’ll bend you over this chair and take your tight cunt in front of all these obviously moral people. Let’s not give them a reason to look over. Wouldn’t want to corrupt them.”
His fingers find my clit. I slap my hand over my mouth and meet his eyes, both glaring and shamefully turned on.
He sits back, keeping his hand where it is. My legs fawn open, swallowing my moans as he massages my hard, slick clit. I’ve never had to smother an orgasm before. The strength it takes not to moan out loud is so draining; I feel drunk when my pussy stops clenching from my orgasm and his fingers slow. My muscles sag.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “I love you, baby.”
“Oh,” I moan, unable to keep it in anymore. That is so unfair. That isn’t even right. To say those three words, followed by baby, after he fingered me in a quiet movie theater, left me on the edge of ravaging him. “You do?”
He snorts quietly, sliding down my slit for my entrance. The pressure of his fingers resting just inside of me has my teeth digging into my bottom lip. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.” He slides himself inside of me, fighting my clenching muscles.
I cover my mouth with my hand again. If I don’t, I’ll scream it back. I’ll shout. I’ll moan at the top of my lungs that he’s the only man I’ve ever loved too. I look down at his fingers as the words tumble out of my mouth. “I’m going to say yes.”
“What?”
“When you propose.”
His fingers still. I close my eyes in mortification. I’m acutely aware of the fact that the man I love is fingering me in the movies, I told him I wanted to spend forever with him, and we’re not even close to the boring shit he wanted to try first.
We’re Jona and Justine, two of the most screwed up people in Crystal Gulf. And I’ve never been more alive, never wanted a different kind of life, if it doesn’t get me him.
He removes his fingers from my pussy. Singlehandedly, he zips and fastens my shorts. Then he wipes his hand off on his jeans before grabbing hold of mine. The heat of his touch is searing. Our fingers interlock tightly; I haven’t pulled in a breath since I spilled my guts.
“The rules have changed. I’m yours now.” It isn’t a statement or even a question. It’s a warning. “I last a month, and I’ll propose. You’ll say yes because I’m going to ask. Let’s watch the movie.”
For the next hour, we sit there, listening to the faux southern belle parade through her life of men and smiles. In the end, she picks the right man, and they drive away in a cloud of dust and wedding veils. It was so easy for her, at least to me. Heartache didn’t equate to being hard for me. Having nothing to break for terrifies me far more than the threat of my heart breaking.
When the movie ends, we both remain seated, waiting for the theater to clear out. We haven’t touched the popcorn. I know I should. He spent his last dime on it. But I’m too stuck, too overwhelmed.
“You ready to go home?” he finally asks.
I know what he’s asking. Am I ready for this? For him? To sleep with the same man every night. To share my troubles and my feelings. To trust a man when I trust none. I don’t know if I’m ready for any of that at all, but I am ready for him. I give him a small nod, staring at the credits on the big screen.
Beside me, he releases his breath. “Let’s go home, baby.” He gives me his hand, pulling me to my feet. Before we leave, I reach back and grab the popcorn. Leaving it behind feels like our pattern. Giving our everything and then letting it go. I’m not letting Jona go this time.
“How’d I do? You okay with boring?” he asks as we drive.
I gaze over at him in the front seat of his Mustang. His strong forearms twitch as his fists grip the steering wheel. His hair is ultra-messy, considering he only ran a towel through it. In the dark, the rich brown toffee hues are wiped dark from the messy strands. His jaw is silhouetted in the dark interior, and the shadows of his growing stubble make him look older and manlier.
I realize in dismay that maybe more of me changed when Wesley attacked me than I thought. I may want safe now, something that won’t put me in a position where I have to find the only thing in my life to live for.
I want so much more to live for.
“It was perfect,” I whisper, fighting the burn in the back of my eyes. “Thank you.”
He watches me closely, probably wondering why I look like I’m breaking, and then nods, giving me one of his soft crooked smiles my heart loves so much. “Say it, you know you want to.”
“What?”
“It starts with L. And maybe I want you to, too.”
My tears win, blurring my vision. “I love you.” My breath whooshes out of me. My heart pounds. I can’t breathe anymore. But I feel aware. Alive. Buzzing with something other than pain. The mix of shock and elation is consuming. I can’t even see his large handsome grin clearly, but I see it enough to know that the only way I’ll ever have more to live for, is inside of him.
He stretches as close to me as he can, his own eyes aglow, they look like two shots of whiskey over ice. So light brown and bright, shining with something we haven’t felt our entire lives. “Say it again.” He kisses me delicately.
“I love you, Jona.” Lust slams into me. I want to straddle him in the front seat and ride his cock as I look into his eyes.
His kiss turns heavy and hot, the heat of his tongue caressing mine. “You still love me if I shatter this one-month deal?”
“I’d love you even if you shattered me.” I wrap my arms around his neck, throwing myself into the kiss as deeply as I can.
“I don’t want to do that.” His hands grip my waist, pulling me so I’m straddling his lap. I settle down on him and cradle his face, moaning from deep inside when his kiss turns into warm hot perfection. “I don’t want to ruin you.”
I don’t think he understands how I feel about him. Saying I love you must’ve been a weak display on my part. When Jona ripped out my heart all of these years, he wasn’t breaking me. He was giving me a reason to live. He was showing me I had a heart to break. “Ruin me, Jona.” His ruin wasn’t the bad kind. It was the only kind I knew.
My fingers delve into his hair as his hands contour my body. Every curve feels the grace of his touch. The depth of his kiss leaves me panting in his arms, wanting closer, to be a little more exposed.
“Jona.” My lips breathe out his name in a longing sigh. All of me wants him. “Don’t let me go.”
His hands never stop, grasping at my sweater, skimming my thighs, tangling in my hair. His lips move down my jaw to my pulse. I don’t realize he’s kissing my bruises until I feel the hand he has on my arm become a tight, painful fist.
“Why would I do that? Why would I ever let you go? I’m an idiot. Not suicidal,” he growls.
Before I can respond—as though I have a response to give—his phone rings, ripping through our lust-live-filled bubble with painful ease.
“Leave it,” he says, his breathing deep and guttural. He kisses me as hard as he can for a few more seconds before his phone rings once more. “Shit,” he snaps, leaning away to wiggle it from his pocket. He reads the caller ID with a frown before bringing it to his ear. “Hello?” His expression changes. Recognition. “Hey.” His tone softens. Emotion. “Yeah, no, it’s cool. Of course, you should have called. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you get outside? Sit down,” he mouths as me, anger replacing the emotion I put in his eyes as I crawl to the passenger seat. He starts his Mustang and takes off, growling quietly on the other end. “You tell that motherfucker that I’m coming. If he wants to live, he can stick around. If he wants to lose a few limbs, he can stay. Good. Stay where people can see you. I’ll be there in ten.” He hangs up, pressing his foot down, so the Mustang growls down the road.
“What’s going on?”
“Monika’s in trouble.”
“What happened?” I bite my lip. Trusting him is part of the deal. As hard as it is, I hold my tongue before I lash him with it.
“Some douche tried to spike her drink.”
My heart drops. “Is it Zane?”
“I don’t think so.” But he drives faster, barreling toward the University.
After hearing what happened to his mom, I know there’s nothing I can add to stop his vendettas now. I don’t want to. Every hurt woman is his mother. How can I stop the broken little boy who watched his mother break from saving others?
“Hurry,” I beg quietly. If she gets hurt, it’ll kill him.
He hits the turn for the University dangerously fast, earning honks and angry shouts. He drives past the dorms’ parking guard and barrels around the turnabout separating the halls. Housing is on campus but within a walking distance. It’s probably that walking distance that’s the most dangerous.
He pulls up outside of the towering maroon building and pushes his car in park. He bolts out of the car. I follow. The door has a security code, and I don’t question why he knows it. He’s probably spent many a night in the dorms of slutty college whores.
He paces the elevator. I watch him worriedly, knowing now isn’t the time to talk or be angry. When the elevator opens, he takes off, almost running into a cute little blond.
Her face crumples in relief when she sees him. “Oh, Jona.” She flings her arms around him.
It takes all my control—the little I have—not to rip her off him.
His arms come around her, but his gaze is on the hall. “He still in there?”
She nods against him. “I didn’t want to leave. He said he’d follow me.”
“Watch her,” he orders, shoving her in my direction. “Take her down to the car.”
I manage to catch her. “Be careful,” I demand. He kicks room one-twenty-five open with his foot, and I know whoever did this is going to leave with a few more open wounds than they came with.
“Let’s go.”
“What if he gets hurt?”
I smirk, heading for the elevators. “Jona can handle himself.”
“But that guy is huge. He grabbed … he grabbed me.” She hugs herself in the elevator.
It goes against everything inside of me to comfort her. I don’t comfort. I swallow the pain and keep going. But not everyone is that way. I grab her hand and wait until she’s looking at me. “Jona’s tough. He’ll be all right. I’d never let him go in if I thought he was in danger.”
She nods, swallowing the sadness in her throat. “I’m Monika.”
“Justine.” I let her hand go when the elevator stops in the lobby. When we get to his car, I get in the driver’s seat, and she slides in the back. I pull the car around, so the passenger door is open to the lobby, and I push the door open, waiting for Jona to come running out.
“Are you his girlfriend?” she pipes from the back.
I’ve been asked this before, usually from women who wanted to know if they had a chance. Whether they did or not, they’d try. I grind my teeth. “Yes.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that he had one.” She sounds way too interested.
I swallow my rage. He’s mine! I want to scrape her pretty bright blue eyes out. “It’s kind of new.” I hand off the popcorn bucket. “Eat this.” And stop talking.
She shifts in the back. “He’s a sweet man. Really pretty eyes too. I’ve never met someone who … you know … looked like him.”
I can’t help but find her reaction to him amusing. He was part boyish, part gorgeous when I met him. Over the years, he had gone from gorgeous to stunning. There was something about the hardness in his face that made the hardness in my heart melt. Something about his rare glimpses of softness that made my rare softness stronger. He’s unbearably sexy, and I wasn’t the only woman who could figure that out.
“Hot as hell, right?”
“Yes,” she giggles. “I’m sorry. So far, all the guys in Crystal Gulf have been more pigheaded than I thought. Jona’s the only one who hasn’t been. He gave me his number and told me if I needed anything to call him. So, I did. Are you upset?”
I curse silently, glaring at the row of flowers in the planter boxes out front. Hurry up, Jona. “I’m not upset. Most of the guys here are pieces of shit. Be careful. It’s a college town, and they know the women come and go with the semester.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to realize that.”
She sounds so young and dumb. Like a new version of something that could easily become bad. She reminds me of Harley, Bach’s girlfriend, and probably the only friend I miss from the past. Monika’s Jona’s problem. Not mine.
Movement catches my eye. Jona marches through the lobby, face darkened in rage, eyes murderous and terrifying. I can see his hand bleeding from here. When he gets in the passenger side and closes his door, he winces and growls, “Drive,” before glaring out the window.
I sneak glances at his hand. He’s too mad to speak to. He’ll hurt me and the girl in the back if he snaps. We both keep our mouths shut. I like her a little more for realizing when it’s safe to poke the monster and when it’s better not to. The middle knuckles on his right hand are split open. Blood bubbles from the cuts I can undoubtedly tell came from teeth.
“Do you need—”
“No.” His steely denial cuts me off.
Having no idea where else to go, I choose Monika. “Where do you live?”
“Cove Hall. It’s the right turn on this roundabout. But I can’t go there right now. My roommate has her boyfriend over. She locks me out when he’s there. I went to my other friends, the party I was at, but she wasn’t there, and that guy kept trying to get me into one of the rooms.”
Beside me, Jona’s fists clench.
“We’ll go to Jona’s place.” Save us all the trouble of asking.
The drive over is quiet and rage-filled. Behind me, I can hear the distinct sound of teeth on nails. Obviously, Jona’s little friend isn’t accustomed to hot-tempered men. Unfortunately, that’s all I know. They’re like land mines. Only dangerous if you move wrong.
When we pull up to his house, he jumps out and stalks inside, leaving Monika and me to catch up. He’s in the kitchen with his hand in the freezer when we come in.
“What happened?” Jacob demands, whistling at his knuckles. “What’s that from?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jona says. “Get me a towel.”
Jacob opens a drawer and takes out a small hand towel. I eye it with interest. Hand towels? What were our lives coming to?
“Here. I’ll do it.” I grab the towel from Jacob and fill it with ice, pressing the cold bundle softly against Jona’s knuckles. This close, his rage filled eyes are doing things to me. They’re like flames crackling, dangerous and sexy. “You need some painkillers?”
He leans down and rests his forehead against mine, warm breath kissing my lips. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
And for not ripping her eyes out, I know he wants to add.
“That’s what Mrs. Brady would do, right?”
He smiles sadly, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “We should try that in bed. You can put on one of those 50’s housewife’s aprons and give out inspiring compliments. Good thrust, son, now circle your hips, ohh, yeah, just like that. You’re making Mommy really proud.” He chuckles, leaving me to contemplate my love for him as he walks over to Monika, his expression sobering.
“Who’s that?” Jacob breathes, panting, tongue lolling out of his mouth while Monika hangs back with Jona.
“I thought you have a girlfriend?” I cross my arms over my chest as if I can speak on infidelity. Infidelity is my alter-ego.
“I do,” he whispers, giving me a guilty look. “I do. Even if she hasn’t called me in days.” He swallows hard and steps around me. “I’m going to study.”
I stare at him and then eye Monika. But she’s so close to what’s mine, it’s hard to concentrate. Her eyes watch his lips, his words as if they’re hers to have. Before I do something that will undoubtedly destroy any chances we just created, I take off after Jacob.
He’s stepping into a room in the hall when I run up. He turns around and wipes the sad, worried look from his eyes.
“Can I hang out?” I don’t wait for his answer. I slip past him into a nerd’s paradise. Gaming systems, computers, Star Wars posters, and a tiny twin bed with soft-looking white sheets. The last time I was in this room, it was full of drunk college kids making out. “This is kind of incredible, Jacob.”
“Yeah? Thanks.” He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “You, uh, want to do something?”
His nervousness is enough to make my lips quirk. “Relax. I’m only in here to distance myself from our guest.”
“Why?”
“The same reason your tongue lolled out of your mouth when you saw her.”
He cringes, sinking down on his bed and grabbing up a game controller. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Do what? Stare at an attractive woman?” I sit beside him, watching the flat-screen across from us turn on. Men in uniforms fill the screen. “You can’t help what you see. You can help what you do, and something tells me you’d never do anything to hurt someone else.” Maybe it’s surviving my father that makes me so desperate to start searching for good men. Jona’s the only one I have, and though that’s always been enough, it’d be nice to find a new average. I don’t want any more bruises on my neck. I pick up the free controller. “How does this work?”
“Depends. If you want to be on my team, then it’s us against them. Easier on us both. If you want to be on your own team, then it’s you against them and me. Your goal is to make it to Groper Island. But you have missions and dangers along the way. It’s one of the first games two people can play first person on. What’s your pick?”
Instinct says to be on my own team. I’ll protect my own back. But the man downstairs makes me want to pick an ally. “I’ll be on your team.”
In response, he goes to the start menu and changes the view, giving me a new character to create.
“Who is Cadence?” he asks when I save her name.
“My mom.”
“Oh.” Sensing my reasons, he clears his throat and changes the subject. “I named mine after John Cena.”
I eye his name in the top left corner. Cenaca Johnson. “A true legend,” I tease, toying with the controls. In truth, I don’t spend much time playing games like Jona does. Fake worlds with fake people—I already live in one of those. “Let’s do this.”
He crosses his legs on the bed, setting his shoulders. “We’re starting a new game. Our first mission is getting out of this well.”
Our characters are dropped into a dark tunnel. Water splashes and our controller vibrates when we land. “Can we crawl out?”
“No,” he says simply.
He’s played before. Obviously, it’s up to me to get us out of here. I think about what I’d do if I were stuck in a well. The walls are too slick to climb, plus that’s too easy. If I were trapped someplace, I wouldn’t think about the way out. I’d think about the way in. I eye the opening at the top. In the dark, light bleeds down, showing me a blue sky. I follow the way the sun shines onto a particularly muddy part in the wall. Walking over, my character study the outline. I press enter and her fist shoots out to knock the muddy wall apart, revealing another tunnel.
“Wow, that was fast.” Jacob sounds impressed.
All I can think about is the tunnel. Creating a new path within the one I walk on. Saving my partner.
Saving me.