Beast (14 page)

I spent most of the day on a videoconference trying to negotiate a solar energy deal with a large industrial conglomerate on behalf of one of my clients. I’ve got to admit that my client was being unreasonable. I tried to convince him to adjust his demands. When that didn’t work, I tried to convince the other side to give him what he wants. Both angles failed miserably.

I glance at the clock. 5:46. I sigh.
I’ll have to pick this up tomorrow
. I won’t be working late tonight.

When Liam and I had lunch together earlier, I promised that I’d cook for him tonight. It’s the least I can do. After all, he’s been buying me lunch every day for over a month now. I’m well fed, my food is delivered right to my desk
and
since I don’t pay for the meals, I ended up with a bit more pocket change at the end of the month. So, I plan to impress the socks off of Liam tonight.

I’m really excited to hang out with him. Chess was in town yesterday and we went to dinner at one of those high-end, up-tight restaurants that serve famine-sized portions at exorbitant prices. So, I’m really looking forward to just letting down my hair, hanging out and eating till I’m stuffed tonight.

After I swing by the grocery store to pick up the ingredients I’ll need, I have some time to spare. So I go home, take a quick shower and rummage through my closet for something to wear. I end up slipping into a turquoise summer dress with a fitted, scoop-necked bodice and a knee-length, flared skirt. It’s been sitting in the back of my closet with the tags still on, waiting for a special occasion. The nagging voice in the back of my head asks why the hell I’m wearing such a fancy dress to go cook dinner for someone who’s
just a friend
. I rationalize it by telling myself that summer is quickly coming to an end and I probably won’t have another opportunity to wear it so I might as well wear it tonight.

Arrive at Liam’s loft just before 7:30 p.m. He sits on a stool in the kitchenette and watches as set up a cooking video on his laptop. The video guides me along as I prepare salmon and herbed potatoes before slathering it in tzatziki sauce. I wait expectantly as he takes his first bite.

“You like?” I ask cautiously.

He chews slowly, eyes fluttering shut. Then, he swallows with a low groan.

And then…he smiles.
God – he should do that more often
.

I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from pouncing on him just to get a taste of that wicked, beautiful mouth.

“It’s amazing, Jasmine.” His eyes are locked on mine. “Delicious.”

I release a sigh of relief. “Thank god. You had me worried for a second.”

We drink wine as we devour the meal, talking and laughing through our first serving and then, through our second.

When we’re finished eating and tidying the kitchen, I waddle over to Liam’s bed and collapse onto the mattress. He stands by the stove and watches me pull the sheets over my body. He moves across the room, carefully sitting on the edge of the couch.

There’s something feral about the way he looks at me.

And instead of retreating, backing away, I invite him closer. “Come,” I say reaching a hand out to him. When he moves towards me, I pat the spot on the mattress next to me.

I’m playing with fire.

This man has made it clear that he wants nothing more than my friendship, yet I keep stubbornly pushing forward, openly accepting his friendship but secretly wishing for more.

His gaze is careful as he looks at me, studies me.

“Wanna go for a run tonight?” he asks as he plops down at the foot of the bed.

My laugh is dry and mirthless. “Yeah right – my entire body is sore from our run yesterday. There’s no way I’m subjecting myself to that again so soon.”

He chuckles, sliding his hand under the covers and tickling the bottom of my foot. My skin lights up at the sensation. I pull away, giggling. “Oh, so
that
explains why you were limping around the office all day.”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “I was
not
limping around the office today.” I pick up a pillow and toss it in his direction.

He expertly swats it out of the way. “You were totally limping.”

I exaggerate a pout as I prop myself on my elbows and face him head-on. “You’re being mean.”

A contented grin settles on his lips. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to poke at you.”

I sigh, dropping my head onto the pillow. “We should go to a movie. Catch a late show.” I look at him expectantly.

Hesitation cloaks his eyes. “I – I –” His fingers dart to the wounds hiding under his beard. He won’t go because he doesn’t want to be seen, exposed to the public’s harsh, judgmental stares.

I reach up and pull his hand from his face. “Your whole life revolves around those scars…They don’t make you any less of a man, y’know…In fact, they’re proof that you’re more than a man. You’re a hero. You’re a giant…”

Something in him loosens, unwinds. His fingers slip between mine and his grip tightens. We stare at each other for a long moment. A red-hot ribbon of desire knots in my stomach. Arrows of arousal dart to my core. I lick my parched bottom lip. Liam swallows thickly, his eyes following the trajectory of my tongue.

“What?” I whisper hoarsely.

He shakes his head, turning away and letting go of my hand. “It’s…nothing.”

He slides back the bedcovers and takes my foot into his lap. Without a word, he presses his thumbs into the sole of my foot, rubbing the tension away. It hurts, but it’s a good ache, a delicious ache.
We’re just friends. Just friends.
I repeat the mantra to myself. But I can’t imagine ever rubbing Ruthie’s or Nadia’s feet like this.

Just friends? Really?

He rubs and kneads and works magic with his big, strong hands. Warmth races up my thighs and settles between my legs. I pant softly as my panties grow wet. I close my eyes and lean into the pillow behind my head.

“Does it feel good?” His voice is gravely and thick.

I nod “yes” without opening my eyes.

He eases the covers all the way off and his hands move up past my ankle. I open my eyes and my gaze falls on his lap. I see his cock straining against the fabric of his jogging shorts. I moan softly growing even wetter.

“I think about you, Jasmine,” he mutters quietly into the air. “When you’re not here, on the nights when you’re with him, I lie in this bed and I think about you.” My chest goes tight and my throat feels a little dry. I know it’s a small offering, but coming from Liam Cartwright, it’s monumental.

“I think about you, too,” I whisper back. “All the time.”

Our eyes lock. We’re having a silent conversation. He’s asking how far I’ll let him go. I’m asking what would ever make him stop. He rubs the muscles of my calf. Inching higher, higher, higher. He moves past my knee, still kneading and massaging my flesh. I don’t stop him. Instead, I spread my legs wider, teasing him, challenging him to touch me there and not feel what I feel.

He groans suddenly and pulls away. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath as he leaps off of the bed. My body mourns the absence of his warm touch. He begins pacing the room, raking his hands through his hair.

“What?” I ask softly. Too softly.

He turns to me, his pupils dilated, perspiration dotting his forehead. “We should probably get some fresh air.”

Disappointment washes over me although I know that he’s doing the right thing. I clear my throat to chase away the lust in my tone. “Yes. Let’s get some fresh air.”

We slip into our shoes and, because Jasmine is wearing a little blue dress and high-heeled sandals, we take a slow walk to my favorite rock on the river’s edge. We sit in silence staring up at the dark sky.

Pushing her away, pretending that I don’t want her – it’s starting to take a toll on me. If I were a real man, I’d keep my distance and let her find happiness somewhere else without making myself a distraction. But I’m a selfish bastard and now that she’s back in my world, I can’t imagine my life without her.

Her phone rings, perforating the comfortable silence cloaking us. “Chess – hi.” She gives me a guilty glance before easing off of the rock and walking some distance away for privacy. I listen to her laugh and it sounds forced. So does the exceedingly sugary tone of her voice.

When she ends the phone call and takes her seat next to me, her body is tense and she seems to have drifted a million miles away. 

And for the first time, it occurs to me that maybe the Pretty Boy Politician
isn’t
everything that Jasmine needs, maybe he
isn’t
satisfying her in every way possible. My mind flashes to the way she’d writhed and moaned when I was inside of her, the way her pussy had pulsed around my cock and I wonder if her body reacts that way for him.

I know it’s sick but the mere possibility that I might be better for her than he is, it ignites a tiny, ill-placed flicker of hope in my chest.

Later, we’re lying in my bed, both on our sides facing each other. She’s looking into my eyes. I’m looking into her eyes. Her small, warm hand comes to my face. She traces my forehead, my eyebrow, the bridge of my nose. Then, her fingers ghost the seared flesh of my cheek. I flinch when she touches me there and she pulls her hand away. “Sorry,” she whispers.

But I miss the feel of her touching me, so I take her hand into mine, entwining my fingers around hers.

Fuck – I could lie here with this girl in my bed forever. The way that she looks at me makes me forget that I’m no good. I want to pull her close and wrap my arms around her, but I don’t. Instead, I roll over onto my back and close my eyes.

I pretend that I’ve fallen asleep.

I feel like my body’s on fire. I could just roll over and fall into his arms and have everything that I want.

I could just roll over and we could make love.

But I fight the urge away. I’m not putting myself out there like that again.

I glance at his alarm clock. “It’s 11:47,” I mutter, disappointment immediately taking hold of me. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, slipping into my sandals.

“Stay.”

I look at Liam over my shoulder. He’s watching me. This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen him.

“Stay, Jasmine.” He reaches out and runs his fingers down my arm. Gooseflesh spreads across my skin.

“Liam, I –” I can’t find words.

He sits up now and moves right next to me. “Stay.” His voice is heavy now. Thick. His eyes beg me. I can feel the heat of his body. I stare at him, absorbing every detail of his face.

He eases back a fraction of an inch and tilts his head slightly. It’s a subtle movement but I can tell that it’s meant to obscure the scars. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” I say softly.

“Do what?” he asks, oblivious. He’s done it so many times that he doesn’t even notice anymore.

I reach up and cup his face in my hand, tracing my fingers along his damaged flesh. “Hide that beautiful face.”

He sits still, not moving, not breathing. It seems that he’s literally in pain, letting me be this close. I move as if under compulsion, leaning in and pressing my lips to his battered skin. I linger, breathing in a lungful of his scent, relishing in the way his beard bruises my lips. Fuck. I’m getting lost in him, his maleness overwhelming me.

“Jasmine…” he breathes my name, breaking my trance.

I pull away slowly. Every nerve ending in my stomach is alive and firing. I watch his chest rise and fall, his eyes darkening with lust. “You’re a beautiful person, Liam. Both inside and out.”

He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut several times before he finally whispers my name. “Jasmine…”

My heart breaks for him. I wonder about all the things that he’s lost, about all the things that war has stolen from him. I wonder who he would have been if he hadn’t gotten blood on his hands. If he hadn’t been a soldier. “Who were you before Afghanistan?”

He’s silent for a long while, staring off into the distance. “I was the youngest man in my platoon. The day that we got hit, we were travelling through this small town on our way back to the base.” His voice is hollow and his fingers tighten on the sheets. “The streets were quiet. Too quiet. We should have known that something was wrong. The engine on the truck had been giving us a hard time for two days, but as we were driving through that town, it just sputtered and died. Anyway, there was this little girl. She was walking down the street alone, crying. She was wearing a heavy jacket, wrapped tight around her little body. No shoes. She was carrying a single leaf in her hand. A few of the men from my platoon were working on the truck as the little girl wandered by.” It’s becoming increasingly difficult for him to speak. “I went over and tried to comfort her…to figure out what was wrong. Looking back, I see now that it was a dumb move, but she looked so innocent…She was just a little girl…My sergeant, he ordered me to step away. But before I could react…I, I felt the ground quake under my feet. There was a bright flash, a ball of fire exploding. I was on
fire
…My body went flying through the air…” His voice trails off. He sits rigidly, not moving a limb.

“Oh Liam,” I say, tears swelling in my eyes. I throw my arms around his neck. “Oh, Liam.” I whisper his name again and again, holding him to my body. And he shivers wordlessly in my arms.