Sweat Equity (7 page)

He laughed but dizziness made Sara's gut clench from such intimate public contact with him. Hands pushed her into a chair for the final event. A quarter of a watermelon was placed between her knees. Jack knelt in front of her. Her thighs trembled. Someone gave her another beer, patted her on the shoulder then walked away.

Jack grinned up at her, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. She glared back at him, and happened to look up, straight into Craig's dark eyes. He was standing at the front of the crowd, not clapping, watching her with an intensity that brought a chill to her spine.

 She looked back down at Jack. Anger flared in her chest, and she smiled at him in such a way that made him pause, only perceptible to her, as she knew his small facial nuances very well. He hesitated slightly before leaning over her lap in anticipation of the contest. She drained her bottle, held it out for someone to take and placed her hands on either side of her knees, keeping the watermelon in place, flexing the well-honed muscles in her legs.

 "Bring it stud, if you can," she told him loud enough to be heard by the first two rows of spectators. The crowd gave a collective "ooohhhh" and a few of Jack's cronies yelled out: "you can tap that Jackie," and "eat it fast, Jack" some of the louder ones.

She raised her eyebrows at him as if to ask "What?" and sat forward, allowing him a view of the tops of her breasts through her tank top.

"If you can," she whispered to him, again before she leaned back, her hands behind her head.

The crowd erupted again, hooting and calling, and Sara no longer cared that she was playing out some fantasy scene in a lot of heads as Jack leaned in to start eating the melon between her knees. The timer dinged, and he began to lick, slowly, scooping up big bites, his eyes never leaving hers. She was mesmerized and royally pissed at his little performance. He closed his eyes and licked his lips once, which brought a fresh round of hooting from the crowd.

He buried his face in the melon then, and the crowd went nuts. She glanced up, slightly off kilter from the beer and the heat. Her anger escalated. Her legs trembled harder as the sticky watermelon juice oozed down either side of the fruit. She knew the entire company was laughing at her, allowing Jack to do this to her in public, humiliate her while his new gal pal watched from the shade tree. She watched as he lowered himself for another ridiculous eating session, confident they would win the gold medal.

The asshole was making a mockery of her. A mockery of what they once had. Her eyes narrowed and she brought both knees together, hard, against either side of his face, which broke the melon in half without much effort and caused him to wince in pain and jump to his feet.

"Fucking-A Sara," he yelled at her as the watermelon juice ran down her legs. She stood up, realized she confirmed the suspicions of anyone who was too dumb to realize what was going on between her and Jack and ran into the house.

Gasping by the time she got to the upstairs guest suite, she leaned over the sink to steady herself, and looked up into the mirror. Her hair had broken loose of its tie back, as usual, and haloed her flushed face. She leaned down again to splash some cold water on her face, and allowed it to drip down her tank top onto her chest.

Damn him anyway.

She winced, reliving the scene she had just made in front of people whose respect she craved. They already worshiped him as some sort of god of the boudoir and she had managed to confirm that, acting like a jealous teenager, or one of his deranged, jilted lovers–not the calm, cynical ex-fiancé persona she tried like hell to adopt. She took another scoop of the cool water, splashed it on her chest and neck, and closed her eyes. Forcing herself to calm her breathing, she wondered how in the hell she could sneak away from this debacle.

She looked up in the mirror and there was Jack, right over her shoulder. She yelped, and turned around, backed up into the edge of the vanity.

He stared at her hard and didn't speak for a minute. Then he looked down and shook his head, hands on his hips. She waited for a split second, and then attempted to move past him.

 "Excuse me," she mumbled.

He grabbed her, and spun her around to face him, his lips just above hers. He took a deep breath. The agony of having him so near, again, made her want to weep with regret. When he leaned in close, she sucked in a breath.

 "We were about to win, Sara," he ground out between his clenched teeth. She stared into the dark sapphire depths of his eyes. They reflected something Sara knew she'd find in her own. Without another word, he covered her mouth with his, seeking her, seeming to need more of her than she had ever given him.

She pushed back on his chest. The slight damp of his t-shirt under her hands made Sara want to rip it from him. But she let her brain lead.

"No, Jack, not this time." She made her way towards the closed bathroom door. He allowed her to reach it and take a single step into the hall before he pulled her back, and carried her unceremoniously into the adjoining bedroom. She started to protest, but his lips covered hers, cutting off noise and logic. The proximity and familiarity of his body so perfect she almost cried with the effort of not begging him to come back, to ruin her life all over again.

She gave in, her hands buried in his hair as she pulled his lips harder onto hers. He slammed the door shut with his foot behind them more or less in the faces of Val and Jennifer who had just made it to the top of the steps.

Without ceremony, he flung her onto the bed, climbed up between her legs, shoving her tank top up and snapping the front of her casual bra easily between his fingers, never missing a beat. He took one nipple in his mouth, then the other, tugging, sucking, pulling at them until she arched up, barely able to contain her need to have him near her, inside her, all over her.

His lips moved up to her neck and he bit down. She gasped, surprised, at her body's reaction. She wrapped both legs around his waist, begging for more of him. Of their own accord, her hands reached for him–his hair, his neck, his shoulders, his back, his ass, unable to get enough.

His lips reached hers again, and he resumed his urgent kiss, seeming to want to possess her completely. She sighed with pleasure at the familiar feel of his lips. He grabbed her wrists and held them down on the bed beside her head.

"Sara," he asked quietly, "tell me what you want from me."

She stared at him a minute, unable to translate the look he was giving her. His eyes were dark with desire, his teeth clenched as though trying to hold something back, wanting her to say something, something that would satisfy him.

"I want you Jack," she hissed at him. "All of you," she said as she wrenched her arms free to pull him closer. "Now," she demanded, meeting his deep blue gaze.

"Then why the fuck did you throw that ring back at me," he demanded.

She turned her face away.

"Because, we just, we can't. We'll kill each other. It won't work," she insisted. "This is all we know how to do. Neither of us can handle anything more." The tear that leaked from one eye belied her brave words. She would give anything to take back that moment, to let him explain the condoms, but she couldn't. He would hurt her eventually. She knew it.

Don't live our mother's life. He will only hurt you. He'll never change.
She tried to close her mind to the words, but they spilled through her like water over a cliff, uncontrollable and wild.

He had worked her shorts down and off, and she could sense his cock near her, throbbing with need. He thrust inside her with no preamble. Her body was already dripping and ready, but he shocked her with his force as she stretched to accommodate him.

No finesse, nothing fancy, just pure mutual, primal need connected them. His eyes bored into her, questioning without words as he shoved in further.

 "So this," he grunted. His teeth still clenched, as if wanting something from her he couldn't even name. "This is all you want from me?"

She was shocked at herself yet again, at her response to his roughness, but unable to stop herself, as if the entire set of games they had just played outside served as quirky foreplay.

She wrapped her legs around him tighter, and her pussy clutched at him, pulled in him further, not allowing him to fully withdraw as her answer. The angle of his cock and the depth he reached meant pure ecstasy. She could sense him brushing up against her g-spot and she bit down hard on his shoulder to hold back a yell that would have surely reached the ears of everyone downstairs in spite of the blaring music. Her body took over completely; seeming to need something from this man who'd ripped her world apart, but who would not leave her in peace.

"Christ, Sara, I," he moaned again, his thrusts harder and even more urgent, owning her, possessing her. She felt him let go, knew when he was on the edge. His body shuddered, eyes closed, until he opened them and glared at her and groaned, filling her as her own body spasmed around him.

He stayed still for a solid minute. His breath calmed as he remained hard inside her while her own body twitched and pulsed, milking him, possessing what it could of him. He pushed himself up on his hands and stared at her, the look on his face something Sara had never seen before. It was searching, almost questioning; dare she say–needy?

He started to speak, his breathing still ragged. "Sara, I…we…" he trailed off and hung his head down between his shoulders.

She reached up to pull him close for a kiss, when she heard a small voice from downstairs:

 "Jack? Jack? Where are you? They're about to hand out the prizes."

He rolled off her, yanked his shorts back up, and ran his hands through his hair; seeming to regain control of himself and whatever emotion had shown itself mere seconds before.

"Yeah, Jack, you scurry back to your date, K?" She hissed at him as she pulled her shorts back on.

"You didn't answer me." His voice was low and on the verge of an outburst, she could tell.

"About what?" She kept it cool. Had to, as a self-protective measure.

He gripped her bicep hard, which forced her to look up at him. He stared deep into her eyes. She drew her last reserve of control and scoffed. "Oh, right. Yes, what do I want from you? Well, I think you gave it to me just now, no?"

They looked at each other for a several seconds, each waiting for the other to speak, or break eye contact.

"Jaaaaack?" she could hear Heather getting closer, coming up the stairs.

"Uh, hang on a minute babe,' he yelled out not taking his eyes off of Sara's. "I'll be right out–must have had a bad bite of guac or something."

Sara pulled her arm out of his grip.

"You don't know what you want from me either. You think you do. You think you can buy your way into a relationship with an obnoxious diamond, but you've already proven to me that you aren't capable of anything beyond that. So don't ask me questions you can't answer yourself." She gritted her teeth. "Trust, Jack. That's all I required. The ability to trust you. But you can't give that, can you?"

He let his arms hang at his sides, and watched her for a brief moment, then seemed to mentally shrug his shoulders, and reach back into himself for the good old Jack they all knew. "You think you know everything about me. But you don't. Don't flatter yourself." His gaze took a hard edge and her heart broke yet again.

"I'll tell you what, how about you
never
touch me again, how about that," she felt her voice rising in spite of her extreme embarrassment at the knowledge that they had been conspicuously absent from the party for the better part of thirty minutes now.

She used "New Sara's" aggressiveness to her advantage, determined to purge this guy from her system once and for all. She glared at him, daring him–wanting him–to deny this. To reach out, take her in his arms, kiss her and walk out of this room with her.

He hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then ran his tongue over his lips.

"Sure, Sara, it was good for a few laughs–I got to show you a bit of fun, and I'll admit I had some too, but..." he shrugged his shoulders and turned away from her. "Time for Jack to pick on someone his own size for a while, huh?" he indicated the door and the nearly six-foot sultry woman waiting for him.

Fury pounded in Sara's ears. She spoke without thinking. "You are the most arrogant dickhead to walk the planet, but I'm sure this is not news to you," she was yelling and didn't give two shits who heard her. "If you ever come near me again, I will fucking rip your balls off, do you get me?" She turned fast then glanced back. But he had resumed his bemused stare, one eyebrow raised at her behavior, as she flung the door open, shoved past their small audience including Heather who waited patiently–stupidly, Sara thought–on the landing.

She was vaguely aware of Craig standing by Val at the foot of the steps but tears blurred her vision and she was determined to get the hell away before she embarrassed herself any further.

Craig followed Sara out, determined not to give into the intense and overwhelming desire to flatten Jack Gordon with one punch. He needed to focus on her. Then he'd worry about how he'd handle that asshole. Or, more likely, Jack being himself would continue to work in Craig's favor.

"Sara, wait!"

She held up a hand and kept making her way through cars until she reached hers. He followed, not sure exactly what he'd say. There was no doubt that she did something to him, something he wasn't ready to identify, but he considered himself her friend and one who wanted to be there for her at that moment.