Women are all the same: they want to fix what is broken and they’re willing to do anything to accomplish that. I never talk about my past or anything at all about me, but women can still sense that I’m fucked up. What they don’t understand… is that I’m unfixable.
I stare down at her again, shaking my head.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
But she looks at me again, really looks at me, her brown eyes probing mine. “I don’t think you are. What happened?”
“Why does it matter to you?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Because something about her makes me think that it does somehow matter to her, and not just because I’m Dominic Kinkaide. Everything I’ve seen of Jacey is wild and untamed… she works for Saffron, pushes cops around, gets dressed in parking lots, and lets men lick salt off her body for tequila shots.
Yet at the same time, she seems warm and real. I haven’t forgotten how she shoved her way in between Cris and I and shielded my body with her own. She’s a puzzle.
Jacey looks confused by my question.
“It matters because you’re not some stranger off the street. You look seriously upset. Of course I’m going to ask you if you’re all right. Who wouldn’t?”
Most of the people I know in Hollywood, I think.
But I don’t say it. Instead, I turn my back and start up the stairs again. I don’t fucking answer to her or anyone else.
“Do you need anything?” Jacey’s voice is hesitant behind me. “An ice pack or anything? That bruise on your cheek looks like it still hurts.”
I pause, not looking at her. Instead I remember her bare leg, stretching toward the sky while her tiny uniform shorts slide over it. The mere memory of the way she’d undressed right out in the open sets my pulse to racing.
Yeah, there’s a bunch of things I need, but only one thing that will take my mind off the reason that I need them.
“Yeah, I need something.”
There is a moment of silence between us, then another.
Finally she asks, “And that is?”
I turn back around slowly, looking her up and down until my eyes freeze upon hers and stay there. Hers are dark and sincere, waiting for me to say something. She has no idea what kind of person I am. She has no idea that I’m just a shell, completely empty inside.
If she did, she would run far, far away.
I stare into her eyes as I move closer, and she doesn’t look away.
I step back down until we’re on the same step and her back is against the wall. I press against her, close enough that my rigid dick digs into her hip.
With my mouth mere centimeters from her ear, I say, “You. Spread-eagled and tied up on my bed. That would do for a start.”
The mere thought of that, of how I’d shove my dick in her mouth and let her suck me off while her hands were bound, makes me hard.
Jacey sucks in a breath, but remains frozen. Her breath comes quickly, and mine is hot against her neck. I know it because I can feel it on my own lips. What I don’t know is why I’m doing this.
Or why she hasn’t said no yet.
Disgusted with myself and her, I turn away.
“Forget it. Go home. You don’t want to play with me tonight, little girl. Trust me.”
Jacey
Oh my god. What an asshole.
I don’t watch Dominic walk away. Instead, I make my way back through the main hall, my cheeks flushed scarlet. I’m better than this. After Jared made me look like a weak-ass needy wench, I swore to myself I would have more self-respect.
I don’t get used. Not anymore.
That Jacey is long gone, buried in a pile of therapist bills.
Then why didn’t I say no to Dominic’s ridiculous request?
Because for a brief second, I envisioned what being tied up on his bed would be like and warmth flooded my panties. Holy shit, I’m only human. And I’m a hot-blooded female.
And Dominic is Dominic.
I’ve seen him in enough movies, in enough love scenes, to know that his hands are magic. Even though he was acting, there was always such sensuality in his movement, in his eyes.
His eyes.
That darkness in Dominic’s eyes… it does things to me. It makes me wonder what he’s capable of. Or what I would be capable of with him. I can practically feel his whispers on my neck in the dark, his hands scraping my back, his fingertips scratching into me.
Oh my god. My cheeks flush even more. I don’t know what’s come over me, but it needs to stop.
Dominic is trouble. And I don’t need any more trouble in my life. I’m turning over a new leaf and I’m making good choices. Dominic Kinkaide is a bad, bad choice.
Because Dominic Kinkaide does bad, bad things. I can see it in his eyes.
On a whim, I turn and glance behind me, searching for him in the crowd. He isn’t hard to find.
He’s standing at the top of the stairs overlooking the main floor like it’s his kingdom, his arm wrapped around a slender brunette. In the ten seconds since I left him on the stairs, he’s already found another woman to fuck with.
Dominic’s eyes meet mine and the green in his seems to smolder as he very slowly, very purposefully grabs the girl’s ass and grips it hard, pulling her into him, grinding her hips into his crotch.
The girl wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face there, inhaling him, and for a minute I wonder what that must be like. To be so close to someone so… dark. Someone who commands a room so totally and completely.
Dominic still hasn’t taken his eyes off mine, and I know that he’s doing this for my benefit. He’s showing me what I could’ve had tonight, if I’d just said yes.
His eyes burn me.
So I do the only thing I can do to retain any little bit of self-respect.
I walk away.
Chapter Nine
Jacey
The sunshine is bright as I collapse into the seat of my car with my coffee and my purse. How the hell did morning come so fast? God. Is there anything worse than mornings?
I turn the key and realize that, yes, something is worse.
A morning when your car doesn’t start and you’re supposed to be on time for Joe’s Gladiators or “you can forget about coming back in” is worse.
Fuck.
“You’re a piece of shit.” I berate my car as I turn the key again and again. But there’s nothing. Only a depressing click that announces in its mechanical way that my engine is not only dead, it’s really fucking dead.
Poor Brand. Because I do the only thing I ever know to do nowadays. I reach for my phone and call him.
“Yes?” he groans sleepily, forgoing a hello.
I quickly explain my predicament, and true to form, like a knight in a big-ass shining F-150, he rides to my rescue with a droll expression and bed-head.
I smile sheepishly as I climb into the truck.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” I tell him truthfully. “I just didn’t know what to do. I have no idea what’s wrong with my car and I could take the El, but I’m not sure where the closest stop is to the gym, and if I’m late, I’m done. Joe doesn’t put up with that.”
Brand shakes his head as he pulls back out into traffic. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather you not get into trouble again. Who needs sleep anyway?” His voice is husky and rough and if I had any doubts that I’d woken him up, I’d be over them now as I listen to his sleepy voice.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him again. “I’ll pay for your coffee this morning. How’s that?”
Brand grins at me good-naturedly. “Deal.”
I stare out the window, watching the Chicago bustle as it passes by. So far, there’s no sign of the odd look that I’d seen in Brand’s eyes the other night, and for that I’m thankful. I really, really just need for us to be normal. Unfortunately for Brand, normal always entails saving me from something.
“Do you ever get tired of bailing me out?” I muse aloud. “I know Gabe used to lecture me
all the time. You never do.”
“That’s because I’m a saint,” Brand announces as he turns onto a side street and heads his big truck toward the gym. “You can ask anyone.”
I giggle. “I don’t have to ask anyone. You put up with me, so you should definitely be canonized. I’m gonna have to talk to the pope about that.”
“You’re not Catholic,” Brand points out as he turns into Joe’s parking lot.
“I know,” I answer. “I’m gonna have to turn on my charm.”
“Good Lord,” Brand shakes his head. “No need to give the man a heart attack. I’ll be back to pick you up tonight. Call a tow truck to come get your car.”
I’m kissing his cheek when I hear the roar of a car pull up next to us. The sound of that engine, powerful and loud, is unmistakable, and I know before I even look that it’s Dom.
I murmur good-bye to Brand and glance at Dom as I climb from the truck. I can feel Brand staring after me, but I ignore it. I can’t think about Brand at all, because frankly, whenever Dominic is near, he owns the vicinity.
He’s dressed in black today: dark washed jeans and a tight black T-shirt that skims his chest just right. His green eyes somehow even look black as he stares at me, waiting for me to walk past. He takes in everything… the way I kissed Brand, the way I move from the truck, the way I try not to look at him.
His lip twitches, and once again I get the feeling that he knows me. Everything about me. It’s disconcerting.
I walk past him and he follows. I can feel every step he takes, his presence behind me a tangible thing, like a force field of sexiness and arrogance. I do my best to ignore it.
When we reach the door, I pause, and he reaches around to grab it, opening it for me. As he does, I catch a whiff of his scent, something unique to him. Musky yet spicy, totally male. I inhale deeply as I walk in, never once looking back at him, even when I mutter thank you for holding the door.
I’m not falling for his sexier-than-thou attitude. Spread-eagled on his bed, my ass. He can kiss my ass right now.
I think I hear him chuckle as I lift my nose in the air, but I’m not sure. And I don’t care. I make a beeline for Joe’s office to find out what he wants me to do. Dominic follows me at a respectable distance, and together we get our marching orders from Joe, who seems especially crusty today.
“I want you to clean out the locker room,” he tells Dominic tiredly before he looks at me. “And Jacey, you can help weigh the boys. We’ve got to get their weights logged so that they’re official for the week. The clipboard is over there and the scale is in the locker room.”
“Are you okay?” I ask him hesitantly as I reach for the clipboard. “You seem… tired.”
He stares at me, his steely eyes cloudy. “Do I also seem like I have ovaries? If I want to chat like a girl, I’ll let you know.”
Burn.
My cheeks explode at the put-down, and I can practically feel Dominic smirking at me. I know Joe’s bark is worse than his bite… but god. His bark is pretty bad.
“Noted,” I answer quietly as I head for the locker room.
Dominic follows me silently.
He doesn’t mention Joe’s bad mood, and I don’t either. I’m grateful for his silence because I feel a little humiliated at the moment. There’s nothing worse than putting yourself out there, only to get stomped on.
We set to work, Dominic cleaning the walls and metal lockers, and me weighing giant, sweaty boys.
The entire time, I know exactly where Dominic is in the locker room, even if I’m not looking at him. I feel him. I feel his presence in relation to mine. I hear his breath, his movements. I smell his cologne. I’m aware of him. Regardless of how determined I am to ignore him, there’s electricity between us, and I can’t pretend it’s not there.
I know he feels it too, because every time I do glance at him, he seems to be looking at me, his dark, dark eyes holding something in them that I can’t describe.
I gulp and scribble down a weight, then motion the next boy to step up.
Jake grins at me as he pretends to shield himself, his big boyish hands splayed in front of his chest.
“You’re not gonna kick me today, are ya?” He laughs as he steps onto the scale. I move the counterbalance to get his accurate weight and roll my eyes.
“Two-eighteen. And no, not unless you try to grope me again.”
He laughs and steps off. “I wasn’t trying to grope you. That was just me saying hello.”
“Huh.” I sniff as I log his weight. “Try saying it with your mouth next time, instead of your hands.”
He chuckles again. “You’re all right, Jacey. For a chick.”
I sniff again, but I smile at him this time. Joe did say that I just needed to show them who’s boss. The other boys seemed to have learned from Jake’s mistake, because they’re all friendly to me now, and maybe even a little nervous. I smile at that thought and motion another boy up.
Time passes quickly, and before I know it, Joe comes in.
“You two.” He motions toward Dom and me. “Come with me.”
We glance at each other, but follow Joe’s lumbering steps as he leads us into the gym’s kitchen. It’s a large, older room with crudded-up corners and yellowed counter tops.
“The kids out there, they don’t usually have enough to eat,” he tells us. “I try to make sure that they get something here, an after-school snack, I call it. But really, it’s a meal. The walk-in needs to be cleaned up and the food needs to be organized. Throw anything bad out, but only if it’s bad. I’m not made of money, and we need to be judicious with supplies. Got it?”
We both nod, and I’m impressed once again with Joe’s heart, even if he did snap my head off.
He leaves us and Dom and I look around.
“Well, fuck.” Dom sighs, glancing at the dented-in cooler door. “This is going to take a while.”
I shrug. “Oh, well. I’d rather be busy than sitting around counting down the minutes till we go home.”
“Well, okay then. After you, Princess.” Dom gestures with a shrug, holding open the heavy metal door, allowing me to go first. “Don’t trip on the rust. Jesus. I think these appliances were made in 1940.”
He’s right. The cooler is a relic, old and creaky. I don’t even like to be near it, much less in it.
As we step inside, I automatically shiver, running my hands over my goose-bump-covered arms as I look around at the haphazardly stacked shelves of food. It smells like stale food, standing water, and armpits in here.
“God. I don’t think this place has been cleaned since 1940, either.”
I poke at the food, some of it outdated and some of it fresh, and Dom sighs. “Well, this is gonna take a while. I can see that. We forgot the bucket and sponges. I’ll be right back.”
He turns back toward the dented door, but when he pushes down the handle, nothing happens.
“What the hell?” he mutters. He wiggles it harder, then puts his weight into it. I stare at him, dumbfounded, watching him struggle to open the door. Finally, he turns around and stares at me.
“We’re locked in here.”
I try not to freak out as I shrug and stare at the locked door.
“Don’t worry. Joe will come hunting for us before he leaves. It’ll be okay.”
But Joe doesn’t.
And it’s not okay.
It’s freaking cold. It’s small. It smells like a swamp. And we’re trapped.
We straighten the food on the shelves in an effort to move around so that we don’t get too cold as we wait, but eventually we run out of things to do. And I’ve got goose bumps on every plane of my body, and still Joe doesn’t come.
I bang on the door, the cold metal stinging my hands, but no one hears. I shout. But no one hears. I even kick the door. No one hears and no one comes. Finally, I slide to the floor dejectedly.