Chapter 8
Laiken
Even though I was still comparing this man to Jace, it felt nice to have his fingers threaded with mine. It had been hard to be with other men since losing him, and for a while there I wasn’t sure I could stomach it. When I left for Los Angeles, I compared everyone to Jace. Their body types. The color of their hair. The shape of their eyes. Everything from their height to their arm muscles was under my scrutiny, and I always found a way to say ‘no.’ I always found a reason to turn a man down who was hitting on me or wanting to pick me up.
And it was all because they weren’t like Jace.
I was enjoying talking to Devon. I was enjoying how his hand felt encased in mine. It had been so long since I’d felt the body of a man up against my chest, and the more he smiled at me, the more I was ready for it. I was ready for Devon to take me in his arms, sway with me on the dance floor, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
That was another thing Jace never did. He never whispered how beautiful I was in my ear.
He said it between my legs or growled it at me when he was fucking me, but that was it. Jace was primal to his core, but sometimes a woman enjoyed romance. Not over the top bullshit, like flowers every week or jewelry I would never wear. But sometimes, just being told I was beautiful out of nowhere sent shivers up my spine.
Devon tried to help me slide from my seat, but the shattering of glass at the bar caused me to halt.
I turned at the sound and readied myself for action. I recognized that sound. It was the sound of a beer bottle crashing against the bar. And whenever that happened, a fight was about to go down. I’d broken up more drunken rodeos in my career than I cared to admit, and I poised myself for action. I started clocking everything around the room I could use as a weapon. The glass in my hand. The knife in my back pocket. The half-empty beer bottles on the table behind me.
I saw someone shifting in the shadows before the figure emerged.
And when he did, I gulped.
He had a small beard that covered his face, but I’d know those eyes anywhere. Brown eyes with hunter green around the irises. His six-foot-four frame emerged from the shadows, encased in cigarette smoke as glass clanked behind him. His chiseled jawline was set in anger as his eyes hooked onto the man behind me. His arms were hanging at his sides, bulging with veins and muscles that were toned and strong.
I felt my knees weakening as I stood to my feet.
Jace was walking right towards me.
I felt Devon grip my hand as he pressed himself flush against my back. I could see anger flaring in Jace’s eyes, and I tried to pull away from the man. Jace was a tick and a half away from losing it, and I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. He had no right to be angry. He had no right to think he could somehow control this scenario.
But I knew the anger he was capable of, and I wanted to tread lightly.
“Laiken, is everything okay?” Devon asked
“Just follow my lead,” I said.
Jace stalked towards us, and my mind conjured images I hadn’t seen in years. Images of his hands digging into my hips. Images of him plowing into me from behind. I could remember the first time he’d picked me up and pushed me against the wall. I’d fallen in love with his arms in that moment. The strength and power he had behind his body to pick a woman up of my girth was something that shook me to my core.
My eyes lingered on his arms momentarily, just to relive the pleasure a millisecond longer.
I watched Jace’s tongue dart out to lick his lips, and it sent shivers down my spine. I knew the things that tongue was capable of. The pleasure that coursed through my system every morning when he woke me up. Time and time again, I had opened my eyes to the warmth his tongue provided me. Snaking down my stomach and plunging between my thighs. His lips glistened with the spit of his mouth, and I thought about how good that wetness would feel against my skin.
My gaze was being pulled down his form. No matter how much I wanted to look him in his eyes, I simply couldn’t. There was the smallest part of me that was filling with guilt. That was feeling ashamed of holding this man’s hand. In some weird way, I felt like I was about to cheat on Jace. Even though we hadn’t been together for years. Even though he’d thrown me out after a fight. Even though he’d accused me of turning into my mother.
A part of me still hadn’t let this bastard go.
I trailed my gaze down his legs and tried to suppress a grin. A memory flashed through my mind that almost made me laugh on the spot. It was my favorite memory of Jace, and it was the moment I’d fallen in love with his legs. We had just gotten done eating chicken wings I had cooked at his place. His father was passed out drunk, and his mother was working some late shift at work. I had offered to come over and cook, and he was adamant I not come. But I showed up anyway with chicken wings, buffalo sauce, and a cooling rack.
His father had woken up in the middle of me cooking and started on some drunken rant about fat chicks. At least, I thought he’d woken up. His father was calling women who were fat ugly and lazy. Calling them things like ‘fat cock holders’ and ‘pieces of shit.’ It was the first time I’d ever seen Jace burst out in anger.
It was also the only time I’d ever come close to crying in front of him.
He went over to his father’s chair and kicked it. The back of the recliner fell all the way back, and his father howled in pain. His eyes sprung open as Jace turned off the stove, telling me to leave the shit there. He pulled me over to the door while his dad hollered about why the hell we’d woken him up and what the fuck Jace was doing kicking his chair and shit.
That day was the first day I’d taken a ride on the back of Jace’s bike. The smell of freedom whipping through the air had dried my tears as he rode us into town. He took me to his favorite wing place and bought a massive plate for us to share. We ate in silence, eating our fill while drinking down beer I couldn’t convince him to let me pay for.
And then I felt his foot scoot next to mine underneath the table.
That same leg that kicked his father’s chair and had broken it. That same leg that had brought pain to a man who was talking bad about me was also the leg that brought me comfort underneath the table. That brought me stability when I was riding on the back of his bike.
I fell in love with his legs that day.
I slid my eyes up Jace’s body before I met his stare. He was standing in front of me, his face set in stone as his eyes drank me in. He made no effort to conceal the fact that his eyes were dancing around my body. Taking me in for the first time in years just like I had.
“Laiken,” he said.
“Jace,” I said.
“Laiken, is this man bothering you?” Devon asked.
I watched as Jace’s eyes ripped from mine and were tossed over my shoulder.
“Funny. I was about to ask her the same question about you,” he said.