Chapter 7 #3
Shouldn’t that have scared me? Turned me off?
Made me want to run rather than stay and find out more about him?
I knew the answer, knew I shouldn’t be lusting after him, but still, I bit my lip to hide my response to her statement.
“Well, I’ll stay out of their way then. I planned to anyway, but I appreciate the warning. ”
She nodded. “I’m honest if I can be, like I said.” Then she pushed her hip off the counter to add butter to the skillet, which hissed as it melted. “And my honest opinion is that you should ask him for details on his life. Demand them if you’re ready to be a part of it. Don’t if you’re not.”
“Oh, I’m not,” I clarified hurriedly. “I’m only here for the summer.”
She hummed and nodded, as if absentmindedly pushing the butter around the pan.
“I thought the same.” Her eyes only moved from the pan to the door when she heard Hades chuckle from the other side of it.
A small sigh escaped her cherry-red lips.
“Sometimes the heart and mind don’t agree.
I saw you and Jameson yesterday out there. ”
“Saw what?”
A smile so big and perfectly framed by her crimson lip stain whipped across her face as she put her hands on her hips. “I saw how you were looking at him … like you wanted him to throw you over the counter and fuck you senseless, Mia.”
My jaw dropped at how easily she said the words when she stood there so properly in her black-and-white apron.
“Oh, close your mouth. We’re going to be friends right? And I said I would be honest when I could, didn’t I?”
“Not that honest!”
“So you were looking at him like that.” She caught me. “Thought so.”
“Oh my God. We’re working here, not—”
“Hey. Speak for yourself. Just because I dress professionally and take my job seriously doesn’t mean I don’t get mine with Hades.”
“Rosy, that’s … Well, he’s …” How did I even respond to this? I cleared my throat. “I hope you’re both happy.”
“I think so. Probably.” She shrugged. “Everyone is hiding something behind closed doors. For most of us in Paradise Grove, it’s because we don’t need to share it with the world.
For others, it’s because they’re ashamed.
I hope it’s the former rather than the latter with him and me.
As for you, decide what hiding something for Jameson will be before you ask him to clarify what he does and who he is, Mia. ”
The rest of the workday flew by in a flash.
It was only in the evening, when I’d been brought to my room, that I considered what she had said.
And I only considered it because the vent to my room kept humming in a way that it shouldn’t, the metal rattling against the wall, almost making a buzzing sound behind my nightstand.
Once the nightstand was moved over and I shoved a piece of paper between the metal of the vent and wall, the noise stopped.
But then the voices started.
Softly, I heard them. The murmuring. I sat on the edge of my bed, right by that vent, leaned in, and then I heard that smooth, deep voice.
Jameson Knight spoke harshly to another person. “Your service isn’t needed.”
“You can’t mean that.” There was a shrillness to her voice, and I immediately realized this vent must have been connected directly to Jameson’s office, where he was ending a discussion with Valerie.
“I appreciate you eating dinner with us and spending time with Franny, but—”
“Of course I would be here. I’ve told you I will be here any day you need me to be.”
“I don’t need you here at all, Valerie. We’ve been transitioning you out. I’ve made that quite clear, but Franny enjoys your company … whether she’s telling you everything or not.”
“So that’s what this is about? I told you Franny only told her teacher about the blood she saw back at the academy because they experienced that trauma together. I’ve explained to you if I was here more frequently, I could get more—”
“That’s not necessary.”
“What is necessary then, Jameson? You want me to leave?” The woman sounded hurt.
“If there’s nothing else, then it’s best you do.”
“Well there is something else.” Her words were breathy as she replied, “You’re stressed. You had such a hard weekend. It stressed me out too. Look at me. Do you really want me to leave like this? Wouldn’t you hate that?”
Moments of silence stretched on and on, and I wasn’t proud to say I literally held my breath while waiting for his next move.
I knew he was a man that would have women around. I just didn’t think I’d be able to hear every moment of it, didn’t think I would want to succumb to listening to it, or that my body would actually tremble with anticipation.
“Please,” she almost whimpered. Desperation laced her voice, and I understood because I was on the verge of something, too, tiptoeing toward an edge I would fall down if he gave in to her.
When I heard, “Turn around then, and be quiet,” my breath caught.
My heart lurched. My mind tried to scramble for sanity, but my body responded too fast. His voice shot straight to my core, lighting a flame so hot, I was burning and aching for whatever release I could chase to extinguish the intensity of it.
Then I heard the gasping start. Her moaning was loud, her begging more and more intense.
With each minute that passed, my breathing turned shallower, my body grew tighter.
The fact that I clenched my thighs, that I bit my lip and considered snaking my hand down to my center, was absolutely ridiculous.
He was making love to another woman.
Roughly.
I heard her mostly, imagined that he was attending to her every need, how he probably had slipped his large hands into her clothes, pulled them off her, how rough his touch would feel while the scent of him encased her.
The rumble in his chest would vibrate through me like it was doing to her right now, their skin would be hot to the touch, damp with passion.
She pleaded for more and then chanted his name louder and louder until something muffled it. He chastised her for not staying in control.
“This is a release. Not a show. Shut up.”
So vicious, and yet she still whimpered, “I can’t.
It’s so good. Jameson, you make me feel so good.
Right there.” She sounded almost frantic, like a fiend who would do anything for him, and I should have gotten up and not listened to the rest, but my nipples puckered at the thought of what he might be doing to her.
Of how he might be touching her, of how his eyes must get dark or light when on the brink.
I heard how he breathed harder too, and something was wrong with me, because even as they finished, I went to the shower and imagined him all over again. Never was I into getting myself off like I was then. Never did I touch myself twice or three times in a night thinking of the same man.
Yet, I did for Jameson Knight. For a man I couldn’t have. For a man I shouldn’t want.
He had secrets, and they were his to keep. But my secrets were mine to keep too, and so I muffled my own screams in the night, calling out his name.
It was like I’d been told …
We all had things we hid behind closed doors.