Hard

  I glance at Jensen who is watching me intently and so much falls into place.

  “It’s nice to meet you Holland,” Pop says.

  “Nice to meet you too,” I return.

  He cocks his head to the side. “She sounds cute. Is she cute?”

  “Extremely,” Jensen states.

  “Ah, good. Come, sit here with me.” He pats the chair beside him. My heart does a double beat, but I do as he asks, slipping in next to him.

  We all take seats around the large dining table filled with the strangest grouping of foods I’ve eve seen. Apparently Margo made all of Pop’s favorites. Baked ziti, fish tacos, blueberry pancakes, bacon wrapped artichokes, watermelon, and pina coladas. I don’t even know where to begin, but alcohol seems like a safe bet.

  “How did you and Jensen meet?” Margo asks, politely making conversation with me.

  “At The Pub. I was working and he came in for a drink.” I sip quickly on my icy drink.

  She smiles, leaning toward me conspiratorially. “He always seems so prickly. Brooding, you know? It’s good to know he isn’t always like that.”

  “Oh, no, he is,” I say, glancing at Jensen across from me, and give him a smirk. He raises a brow in silent question, which I ignore, turning back to Margo. Her dark hair sweeps the top of her shoulders as she shakes her head.

  “How did he get you to go out with him then?”

  I press my lips together. The fact that we’ve never gone out, just now occurring to me.

  “He’s a Payne,” Pop chimes in.

  “He sure is,” Summer sings.

  “So are you,” Jensen points out, giving his sister’s shoulder a little shove.

  “Only by name.”

  Pop overlooks her quip, continuing on. “He has natural charm and sex appeal that can’t be ignored.”

  Summer rolls her eyes. “Ugh, don’t say sex appeal. You’re going to make my ears bleed.”

  “Then we’ll have a deaf and a blind in the family,” Jensen supplies.

  “And you could stop talking,” Summer fires back promptly. “Then we’d be deaf, blind, and mute. Like those little monkey statues Mom used to have.”

  Jensen nods, a small smile forming on his lips as if just remembering them. “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.”

  Margo points her fork at Pop. “Your dad is the one who has been speaking evil lately.”

  Jensen’s head tips to the side in frustration. “Still?”

  Margo nods. “The dirtiest things come out of that man’s mouth.” I notice she says this with fondness, not irritation.

  Summer places her hands over her ears, humming lightly. I can’t help but laugh.

  “Like father like son,” I mutter.

  Pop grins, his face bright with amusement. He slaps his palm to the table, capturing everyone’s full attention. “It’s in our DNA,” he explains. “All of it. The charm, the sex appeal, the dirty mouths. We have good genes.”

  Jensen huffs out an indignant breath. “Yeah, they’re the best.”

  “They’re good enough. Now it’s my birthday,” Pop says. “Can we have a nice meal? Please? You’re both adults, stop bantering like a couple teenage girls.”

  Jensen smirks, leaning back into his seat. “Sure, Pop.”

  My gaze moves back and forth from Jensen to his dad. Pop’s condition seems to bother Jensen more than it bothers him. I can’t help but think of my mom and how I would feel if we had been in this situation. I would probably be angry too. It makes my chest pull tight, not only because of my mom’s memory, but because I feel for Jensen.

  Watching him with his family, seeing this other side of him, of his life… I never meant to like him, but I do. A lot. More and more with each passing day.

  “I would just like to point out that technically, I am a teenage girl,” Summer adds.

  *

  We all pitch in, clearing the table and washing the dishes. Once the kitchen is back in order, Summer shoves Nelly into my arms. I try to give her directly back, but Summer turns, picking up the box of candles and starts placing them on the cake. I had done a really good job of ignoring the baby all throughout dinner. Now I have no choice but to meet my apprehension head on.

  I’m clutching her clumsily, holding my breath and trying to touch as little of her as possible. There’s a roaring in my eardrums. Loud and harsh. My head feels light. My heart pounding so hard I can feel it in every pulse point.

  Margo laughs, coming over to take the poor girl from me. “Never been around babies before?”

  I’m so grateful to her I nearly burst into tears. I choke them back and force a laugh, nodding stiffly. “That obvious, huh?”

  She grins, cuddling Nelly to her chest. “It’s okay. Not everyone is cut out to be maternal.”

  That hits hard. So hard I can’t seem to breathe. “Where’s the bathroom?” I wheeze.

  “Right around the corner,” Margo directs with a tilt of her head.

  It’s difficult to keep myself from running, but I manage, hurrying past Jensen as he places a stack of small plates on the counter. He grabs my arm, halting my escape.

  “You all right?”

  “Mm-hm. Great.” I don’t make eye contact and pull out of his grip quickly. Inside the bathroom, I turn the water on cold and let it run over my hands and wrists, not stopping until my fingers begin to numb.

  I slump to the floor, letting my eyes fall shut. When will it stop hurting so badly? When will holding another baby not feel like I’m betraying Caleb? Like I’m trying to forget him? Replace him?

  I don’t want to be like this anymore, but I don’t know how to be any other way.

  29

  Jensen

  The car ride back to Holland’s place is quiet. She’s lost in her head, as usual, and I can’t get the last few minutes out of my thoughts. As we said our goodbyes, Pop had pulled Holland aside and his words have been playing on a loop inside my mind ever since.

  “My eyes may be shit, but my ears are in perfect working order. I recognize bullshit when I hear it. I also know sadness—it has a tone all it’s own. Keep that in mind next time you come back. And I do expect you to come back.”

  She hadn’t responded, not confirming nor denying his words. I’ve always known there was something broken about Holland, it’s what initially attracted me to her. But over the past month, I’ve become so beguiled by her, somehow I managed to forget. Underneath the hard beauty, the great sex, and the brains, she’s damaged.

  I have no idea what bullshit Pop was calling her out on, and I should be apprehensive, but I’m not.

  All I can manage to care about right now is making her whole. I want to be the person who can make her forget she’s miserable.

  Fuck that. I want to be the one who takes her misery away.

  I pull into the parking lot of her complex and turn off the car. I’ve never been inside her apartment before—I’d like to rectify that now. I’ll invite myself in if she doesn’t do it on her own.

  “Are you coming up?” she asks, surprise coloring her tone.

  “Yes.” I don’t give her an opportunity to fight me on it. I open the door and slide out, jogging around to the passenger side. She takes my proffered hand and I let her lead me up an abundant amount of stairs to a tiny attic apartment.

  When I say tiny, I mean there’s room for a bed, loveseat, a refrigerator that looks like it came straight out of the 60’s—small and an odd shade of green, a sink, half a stove the same shade as the fridge, a small bookshelf, and a door leading into a bathroom not even large enough for a tub, housing only a shower stall, toilet and pedestal sink. I turn in a circle and I’ve seen the entire place. She doesn’t even have a TV. There is exactly one window, miniature and round. It doesn’t look like it even opens.

  My first instinct is to pack her shit and drag her ass over to my place. She deserves better than this. It takes a lot of self-restraint to deny this inclination.

  Holland kicks off her flimsy flip-flops an
d shimmies out of her jeans. Seeing her in nothing but a pair of pink cotton panties and a tank top makes the rest of the place disappear. I pluck my glasses off my face, dropping them on the bookshelf and take the few steps separating us.

  As she works on unbuttoning my shirt, Holland chews on her lip. A sure sign she has a question simmering, but in her typical fashion, she doesn’t bother to ask it. I want to know what’s on her mind.

  “What?” I prompt.

  Her eyes flicker up to mine. “I was just thinking about your dad.”

  “Ouch,” I breathe. “Bored with me already?”

  She laughs, slipping my shirt off my shoulders, her mouth sliding over my pec muscle, trailing along my chest. “Has he always been blind?”

  “No,” I utter. “It’s a condition. A disease. Retinitis Pigmentosa. The cells in his eyes are dead. It was a long, slow process, taking more and more of his vision away until there was nothing left.”

  “Is it painful?”

  “There were headaches at first, a little dizziness, nothing too bad. His eyes aren’t what cause him pain now,” I explain. “Vitamin A is supposed to help slow vision loss, but high quantities turn the liver to shit.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I dip my head in a small nod, ready to change the subject.

  “I was just thinking,” she begins softly, “about your Scopophilia. How it’s all probably connected.” She peers up at me through her thick lashes, her question clear.

  “You think you have me all figured out, huh?”

  “Yes,” she states genuinely. “I just can’t get a handle on the whole tying women up thing.”

  I chuckle roughly, appreciating her wording choice. “You think there must be some deep rooted reason I like to bind women when I fuck them?”

  Her hands have fallen to my belt, working it through the loops. I keep my attention on her face, watching her brows rise in insinuation. “Well, yeah. Is it the power? It’s obvious you’re a control freak, which I think once again returns to your dad. You have no control over the loss of his sight, so maybe you look for it in other places?”

  “That’s some straight up Freud logic right there.”

  “Am I right?” She tugs my zipper, slipping her fingers into my jeans, finding me hard and ready for her.

  I sweep her hand off me and free myself of the remainder of my clothes. “Did you ever think I might just like to tie women up?” I push into her with my chest, backing her toward her bed. “That maybe I find women so beautiful in their softness, their smoothness. Ropes are rough, coarse.” Her legs bump into the mattress and I give her a little nudge, making her fall back. I crawl on top of her, letting my weight sink in. “And the pairing of the two, delicate and brutal… It’s intensely arousing.”

  My cock presses into her folds, shoving her panties in-between her labium. I rub against her, enjoying the way her underwear dampens from my ministrations. She opens her mouth, releasing a sigh, and I take advantage, plunging inside. I grab her tongue between my teeth. Switch off, sucking, then biting as I yank her shirt up and her bra down, freeing her breasts. My fingers tweak her nipples harshly, working them into tight buds. She’s writhing beneath me, so pliable. So willing. I fucking love it.

  Releasing her peaked nipples, I reach between us, wrench her panties until the fabric gives, ripping in half. We’re skin to skin. She’s warm, wet, and I can’t wait another second. I need to be inside of her like I need to breathe.

  I thrust into her, watching her face as I bury myself to the hilt. Her head digs into the plush bed under her, mouth rounding in a perfect O. The pleasure plain in her expression makes my balls twitch in quick succession. I shift my weight to my knees and find her hands. Close her palms together, grasping them in one of my hands, and lock them above her head. One sharp pull on her bra unsnaps the clasps and I drag it upward, coiling it around her wrists. She doesn’t have a headboard, hindering me from really securing her, but when my hands drift down her body, she doesn’t make any attempt to move.

  I suck on her tit. Grip the flesh on her thighs hard. Drive into her faster. My only thoughts are for her. Giving her pleasure. Making her come beneath me.

  I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m losing myself in this woman and I can’t find one single fuck to give.

  Holland’s entire body tightens, squeezing me from the inside, letting me know she’s close. It feels amazing, but I grit my teeth, holding back. Waiting to sync our climaxes together.

  Her eyes flutter shut and she moans. Her frame shudders violently and finally I let myself go, finding ecstasy with her.

  30

  Holland

  There’s nowhere for me to escape to tonight. Jensen isn’t budging from my bed, and I can’t muster the inclination to ask him to go. His fingertips move up and down my bare back in the softest of touches.

  “Talk to me about something,” I say, closing my eyes and snuggling into my pillow.

  “Like what?” he asks, his voice low and smooth like melted honey.

  I give a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”

  He’s quiet for several seconds so I begrudgingly open one eye to find him watching me. I groan, placing my hand over my face. He tugs on my arm, not allowing me to hide.

  “You’re beautiful, baby. Don’t cover it.”

  I growl, but keep my hand tucked in his. “Talk.”

  “Give me a subject.”

  “Work,” I say. “Have you done any new shoots?”

  “Um,” he says slowly. I don’t know why, but my shoulders stiffen with his lack of confirmation. Or maybe it’s his lack of denial. “Would it bother you if I had?”

  Would it bother me? I don’t know. If it did, it would be the first thing I cared about in a long time. “It’s your job,” I say simply, throwing back another uncommitted answer.

  “Yes,” he admits. “I’ve done several shoots. Because it’s my job. But I haven’t slept with any of the models. I haven’t slept with anyone but you. Not since our first time together.”

  My heart pounds a little harder, a little faster. I don’t know what to say. What to feel. There’s this strange flutter in the pit of my stomach. I clamp down on it immediately because I know exactly what it is.

  Happiness.

  Fucking happiness.

  “What about you?” Jensen asks casually. “Have you been with anybody? Other than me?”

  “Would it bother you if I had?” I give as good as I received.

  His expression goes from indifferent to pained in the blink of an eye. “Yes.”

  My lips part, like my mouth wants to say something, but my mind hasn’t caught up yet.

  “I didn’t think it would, but just now, thinking about it, imagining another man putting his hands on you, seeing the faces you make, hearing your sounds of pleasure—it makes me sick. I really hope there isn’t anybody else, because I think I might fucking hurt him if there is.”

  Nothing is funny about this situation, but I smile. I can’t even help it. “There’s no one else. Just you. You’re the only one I’ve been with since my husband.”

  A shiver runs through me as I realize what I just said. And the only reason it occurs to me is because Jensen’s gone completely still next to me. His hand frozen on my back.

  “Your ex-husband?” he clarifies.

  I wiggle the fingers on my left hand, showing him I don’t have a ring. I don’t even have that tan line most married couples get. I guess I wasn’t married long enough. But none of this means I’m not technically still Mrs. Darren Howard on paper.

  “Legally?”

  Jensen sits up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “You’re married? You have a husband. And you’re just now telling me this?”

  “Would you rather I lied?”

  “No,” he growls. “I would rather you have told me sooner.”

  I give him an incredulous look. “Are you saying it would have mattered to you that very first night??
??

  He grinds his teeth, contemplating. Finally he releases a heavy sigh. “No. Nothing short of you saying no would have stopped me that night. Or any other fucking night. I just don’t like not knowing shit.”

  “You mean not controlling shit?”

  “YES.”

  I press my lips together hard, holding in a laugh. He’s ridiculously adorable when he’s pissed off, even when it’s unfounded.

  “We’ve never really talked about our personal lives,” I remind him. “And Darren—”

  “That’s his name?”

  I nod tightly, swallowing with difficulty. “He’s insignificant. Just a piece of my past.”

  “No,” Jensen corrects. “He’s part of your everyday life until you’re officially free of him.”

  “No, he’s not.” I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to talk about him or think about him. I wish I could go back five minutes ago and erase that I ever mentioned him.

  I wrap my hands around Jensen’s torso and guide him back into bed. He wouldn’t allow me to do it if he didn’t want me to, so I take that as a good sign. I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat in a steady rhythm.

  His hand goes back to caressing my back and I let my eyes close, hoping this is the end of the discussion.

  Jensen’s breaths grow slower and deeper and I let myself relax. Only on the outside though. Inside, I’m wired. Thoughts and memories swirling endlessly around in my head.

  I hate thinking about Darren because my mind automatically flips to Caleb. And thinking of him just hurts too badly.

  Darren once told me he wished Caleb was never born, because if he was never born, then we never would have known what we were missing. At the time, I thought it was the cruelest thing he could ever say. But I know now he was just trying to make sense of it all. Grasping at anything.

  I would never trade my time with Caleb, even if it would save me all this heartache. Every moment I had with him is treasured. But I get what Darren meant. I also know he was wrong.