In Your Corner (17 page)

“Jake…?”

“Shhhh. Hold on. It’ll be good. I promise.” He thrusts deeper and the metal knob glides over my G-spot.

Pleasure pain sears through my body like white hot lightning, so intense my vision goes white and my body arches high off the ground. My eyes water, my jaw clenches, and a scream of pleasure rips from my gut, rolling through me like a tidal wave. Jake covers my mouth with his own, swallowing my passion, and I am only vaguely aware he is moving, thrusting, sending new jolts of sensation through my sex with every scrape of the piercing. My body coils tight, bones, tendons, muscles fusing into one pulsing ball of need. My womb is heavy and every fiber of my being is centered on my core.

“Fly, baby.” Jake slicks a finger over my clit, the barest touch, and then he drives in again. Moisture spurts from my swollen inner tissue, making my sex so slick he glides in and out faster even than before. One pinch of my clit. One thrust of his cock. And I explode into a thousand pieces in the most intense orgasm of my life. Pain. Pleasure. Release. Over and over again. His every thrust drags out my orgasm. Endless waves of pleasure thunder through my body. And I am screaming and he is thrusting and I am lost in the ether, in a world of never-ending exquisite sensation.

“Christ. Fuck.” He hammers deep and fast. His cock thickens, becomes impossibly hard, and then he comes with a yell, pulsing against my swollen tissues.

Boneless, spineless, still floating, I am vaguely aware he has released my leg and collapsed on top of me, weight on his elbows, head resting between my breasts. As we come back down, he reaches above me and releases my hands with one tug of the tie. Quick release. And then he rolls onto his back and pulls me across his chest.

“I have you now,” he says softly, his hand stroking gently along my spine.

Yes, he has me.

But I’ve never felt so afraid.

“You okay, baby?”

My mouth opens and closes, but words fail me. I am ripped open, exposed, bared to the world and scrambling around in the dark.

He cups my jaw with his hand, forcing me to look up. His brow is creased and his eyes crinkle with concern. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling. I’m here. I won’t let you go.”

A tidal wave of emotion floods through my veins too fast, too powerful to stop. I bite through my lip to stop the overflow leaking from the corners of my eyes, and then the words spill out. Crazy words. Untimely words. Words I never thought I’d say. “I have to sell my house.”

His brow creases in a frown, but I see the moment understanding dawns. His face softens and he squeezes me tight, chasing away the fear, filling the void. Just like I imagined.

But unlike how I imagined, he doesn’t say soothing words and tell me he understands or sympathizes with how I might feel. He is not a fantasy man. He is a real man. And real men feel compelled to solve problems, not throw out meaningless platitudes even when they have torn open a woman’s soul and that is what she wants to hear.

Why
are
you
losing
the
house? Do you need money? Did you talk to Max? Did you go to the bank and ask for a loan? How about hiring another firm? What about your parents? A mortgage? Can I help? I have money saved. What about dropping the case?
And on and on.

When he has finally run out of questions, I kiss him softly. “I told you about it. That’s a big step for me. Don’t push. Just hold me.”

I can almost see the physical effort involved in reining in his natural inclination to problem solve. His body tenses, jaw tightens, even his pulse beats more rapidly in his neck. But he manages to overcome the burden nature has thrust upon men, and moments later, I am being hugged and stroked while he whispers that he knows how much that house means to me and he will do anything to help.

Just like I imagined.

WELL, THAT WAS JUST STUPID

A few nights of sex and sleep and more sex and less sleep leaves me with a happy buzz that lasts until Friday morning when I walk into my office and find a giant, unwelcome stack of medical reports on my desk beside the humongous pile of Farnsworth-related paperwork.

“What are these?”

Penny hands me a file and grimaces. “Hellhole case. Medical reports documenting the injuries of your friend, Bob, and his bouncer buddy.”

“And this?” My voice rises as I stare at the file in my hand.

“Originals of the retainer agreements for the Redemption case. Jake still hasn’t signed his. You don’t have much time left to get that defense filed. I’ve put a note in your calendar.”

With a sigh, I drop the file on my desk. “We decided it wasn’t a good idea for me to represent him on either case. He’s going to find someone else. We’re too…close.”

She finally smiles. “That’s a good thing.”

Maybe. Maybe not.

“Anything else to ruin my morning?”

Penny gives me a sympathetic smile and points to a stack of files on the credenza beside the microwave. “Your pro bono files need some attention. I’ve flagged the deadlines coming up. Ray won’t be around today. He has a lead on the Hellhole guys, and he’s gone to see if he can get a video of them without their casts. I have to leave on time because I have a date with Vetch. And…Jill called to see how the case was progressing and to let you know if you need help, she’s still looking for work. I seriously think you should consider hiring her.”

“Thanks, Penny, but right now I can’t even afford you.”

The day passes in a blur as I prepare the defense for the Redemption case and read through the unintelligible medical reports. I research broken bones and street fighting, trying to understand how two men could suffer the exact same injuries. Desperately in need of medical advice, I call Drake to ask a few questions. He offers to bring me some of his old medical school books and, since he’ll be in the area on his way home, he can also help me wade through the medical reports. Oh, and since it’s dinnertime, he’ll bring Chinese.

For a brief moment, I wonder if this is a good idea, given Jake’s raging bull tendencies and his antipathy toward Drake. But this is work and I’m on a deadline. Plus, Jake should be happy I’ve actually asked for help. And we’ll be in my office, not my house. So it should all be good.

Two hours later, over chow mein and orange duck washed down with a crisp but unexpected bottle of Chardonnay, Drake and I sift through the medical reports. I take copious notes as he explains all the abbreviations and cryptic messages, and then flags pages in the reference books that discuss how bones are broken, where the force needs to be applied, and the types of breakages one can expect in hand-to-hand combat.

Finally I have had enough. Head spinning from too many gory pictures, I toss my notepad on the couch beside me, kick off my shoes, and put my feet up on the table, Ray style. Drake settles back on the cushions beside me.

“So…do I conclude from Jake’s performance the other night, you two are back together?”

“I guess so.”

He gives me a quizzical look. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“It’s all kind of intense.” I twist my bracelet around my wrist. “I haven’t been in a serious relationship since he and I broke up. I think I’m out of practice. I keep thinking he’s going to leave or it’s not right…”

Drake taps the back of my hand and raises an admonishing eyebrow. “You were in a relationship with me.”

My skin prickles and I jerk my hand away. “We weren’t in a relationship. We were friends with benefits. There’s a big difference.”

“You’re right.” He sighs and pats my knee. “I just never expected to fall for you. It complicated things. At least for me.”

Annnnd I’m off the couch. “Drake…” I lean against Penny’s desk, hoping I’ve put enough distance between us. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He twists his lips to the side and shrugs. “I know what you’re like. You keep everyone at a distance, always protecting yourself. I didn’t want to scare you away.”

Nausea roils in my belly. What’s wrong with me? Why do I hurt everyone I care about? Why can’t I give what everyone wants? “You’re a special friend to me, but I don’t feel the same way about you. What we had was temporary. I’ve seen how happy Makayla is with Max, and I want what she has. I want something that will last.”

He slumps back against the cushions. “But not with me.”

My stomach clenches at the defeated expression on his face. “Not in that way. I enjoy being with you. We have a lot of fun together. But in the morning, we can both walk away. I don’t want to be able to walk away. I want to ache at the thought of walking away.”

His jaw tightens and he clenches his fist on his knee. “Is that how you feel about him?”

The word comes out before my mind has even sifted through the tangle of emotion twisted around my heart. “Yes.”

And it’s true. Even now I ache for him, already my fingers are twitching in anticipation of the moment Drake leaves and I can send Jake a text.

Drake gathers up his things in silence and then sighs. “Don’t forget: you left him, Amanda. And you had good reasons for it. You should take some time to think about why you pushed him away in the first place and whether it will be worth the heartache when you find yourself in that place again.”

***

A gentle touch on my cheek pulls me out of a dream about Jake and me on Max’s kinky desk at Redemption. Every hidden D-ring was in use, his warm hands were on my body, and his deep voice rumbled in my ear.

“Wake up, baby.”

My eyes open to the semidarkness of my office reception room and blue eyes glittering in the moonlight beside me.

I bolt awake, shooting up on the couch, heart pounding. Jake puts an arm around me and whispers soothing nonsense in my ear as he threads his fingers through my hair.

“Did I text you?”

He gives me a puzzled look. “No. Were you trying to text me?”

Head still woozy, I lean into his chest. “I was trying to drunk text you. Fortunately, I didn’t succeed. But how did you get in?”

Jake strokes his hand up and down my back, and I fight back the urge to purr. “Your landlord has a key. Very useful when he’s trying to find you. Saves him from breaking down doors.”

I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his fresh, clean scent of soap and the essence of him. “Mmmm. I’d like to see you break down a door. I think it would be hot.”

Jake laughs. “You think everything is hot.”

“Only when you’re involved.”

He sits back on the couch and pulls me into his arms. The table in front of us is littered with a sea of takeaway cartons, medical reference books, and diagrams of arms and bones.

“Working late? Please don’t tell me you drink and draft.”

Relaxed in his arms, floating on a sea of endorphins, my mind still fuzzy from sleep, I murmur, “No. Drake was here. He was teaching me about broken arms.”

Jake stiffens. Moments later I am alone on the couch and he is pacing the floor in front of me. “Drake was here?”

“For work stuff, that’s all. I needed medical advice for the Redemption case.”

He flicks the wine bottle with his thumb and forefinger, and it crashes to the ground. “Do you usually drink while you’re working? Or eat, for that matter? Why didn’t I know you like Chinese food?”

“Jake.” My voice rises in pitch as our moment of intimacy crumbles. “It’s over between us. He was just here as a friend to help out.” I struggle to my feet, but when I take a step toward Jake, he holds up his hand.

“What’s over?”

Damn. Damn. Damn
. The last thing I wanted was for him to know my relationship with Drake went beyond that one night he caught us together. And explaining the whole friends with benefits thing…there’s just no way he’s going to understand. I take a deep, calming breath and choose my next words carefully.

“You know Drake and I…were together. And that’s over.”

“When?”

Oh God. I can’t tell him I cleared up any misconceptions Drake might have had tonight. “That’s hard…um…we haven’t been together for a long time. Months. Four or five at least.”

“Did you fuck him tonight?” His eyes glitter in the shadows and I wince at his harsh words, anger edging into my fear.

“No. Of course not. You’re totally overreacting.”

His hands clench and unclench, and his biceps quiver beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. For the longest time he just stares at me, jaw clenched, chest heaving. “But you were drinking with him. Alone. Here.”

My stomach twists in knots, and unwanted images flood my mind. Farnsworth’s blue file. My father’s words in the hospital. Jake’s face when he walked in on Drake and me two years ago. But what have I done wrong? Certainly nothing to warrant his accusatory tone. Or his lack of trust. And definitely nothing that would explain the guilt worming a hole through my heart. All that stands between us is a past we cannot shake.

“Maybe you should go, Jake. We can talk about it tomorrow when you’re calm and I’ve got a clear head.”

He startles at my words. I don’t know if he expected tears or anger or excuses, but he’s getting none of them from me. He’s judged me and found me wanting. Even more than when I judge myself.

Without a word, he grabs his backpack and walks out the door.

***

“Well, that was just stupid,” Makayla snaps when I call her in Fiji to tell her it’s over. Although I don’t like to disturb her on vacation, the most desolate moments in a person’s life must be shared with best friends when and as they happen.

“Which part?” I push off my comforter and let the cool breeze blow over my skin, imagining I’m lying on an exotic beach beside her, but it does nothing to ease my discomfort. I ache all over and nothing will make the pain go away.

“All of it. First, inviting Drake over in the evening. Second, drinking alone with Drake. You know what’s he’s like. You saw him with me. He gloms on to you and then he won’t let go until someone hits him over the head with a fire extinguisher. Third, telling Jake he was there.”

“It was pretty obvious. There were two wineglasses and enough food for an army.”

Makayla gives a derisory sniff. “Fourth and worst, you sent him away. I can’t believe you did that. How could you send him away?”

My hand clenches around the phone. “He didn’t trust me. And one day he’s going to find out about the file and realize he was right. I am the person he thinks I am.”

Silence.

“Makayla?” I sit up in the bed. “Makayla?”

“Did you sleep with Drake?”

“No, of course not.”

She sighs. “Then you’re not the person you think he thinks you are. You’re the person who is letting the past define her. You’re letting Farnsworth and his damn file define you. No one cares what happened before. No one cares if you slept with ten guys or fifty. Do you think your friends wouldn’t be your friends if they read that file? Do you think I would love you any less? Do you really think it matters to Jake?”

My throat tightens until I can barely breathe. “But…”

She draws in a ragged breath. “What matters to him is now. He wants to know you’re with him and only him now. He cares about you, Amanda. He cares enough to show up at your office late at night. He cares enough to be upset that you were drinking with your ex and not just an ex, the ex you left him for. He respects you enough to leave when you asked him to go.”

Sick remorse floods my veins. “I should never have asked him to go.”

“Oh, honey. The real issue is that you let him in and now you’re scared.” Her voice softens. “I get that. I felt that with Max. But you have the benefit of knowing what happens if you push him away. You know how it feels and you know this time there will be no second chances. He wants you, Amanda. All of you. The good and the bad. Don’t be afraid this time. Give yourself to him. You know he would never hurt you.”