45. Jillian
FORTY-FIVE
Jillian
Only one of me. The only other person to choose me over everything else was CJ. And now Elliott. And I believe him. I don’t think he’s lying or trying to get on my good side so I’ll convince Leonora to sell and give in, eventually. I won’t do it. And I have to hope that Leonora will hold strong too. The store and the apartment hold the best moments of my life. It’s so filled with memories, if it were to be taken away from me, I fear there would be nothing left but millions of holes where my soul should be.
“Do you want to stay? I’ll call for dinner. Or I can walk you home. If you need some space, I understand.”
I walk back to the bar stool and sit down. “I’ll stay. And I want Mexican food. From Frijoles.” I name one of the top Mexican restaurants in the city. A very expensive restaurant. “I want one of everything and you’re buying.” My voice is petulant.
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he moves closer to me, the gap closing with each step. He turns the chair around so I’m facing him fully and braces himself on the counter behind me. He deposits a chaste kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes and inhale his scent. Soap and shampoo and something uniquely him. I tilt my head up and offer my lips. Elliott steps in closer and his mouth is on mine. Gentle, probing, asking for permission. I open for him. The tenderness only lasts a moment before it becomes more. More urgent, more needy, more intense. Our lips tangle, and our tongues dance with each other, taking, giving, tasting. My pulse accelerates. We kiss and kiss and kiss. But our hands never stray to touch each other. Mine firmly planted in my lap, and him bracing on the counter still caging me.
His restraint feels like self-punishment for keeping this secret from me. I should be angry. But I’m not. I understand all too well wanting to hide. Wanting to keep secrets you believe will hurt others. Isn’t that what I’ve been doing for the last two years? Hiding and lying to myself and everyone I know? Telling them I was okay when I wasn’t? Except that it’s no longer a lie. I am okay. I’ve been okay for the last few weeks. Since Elliott entered my life. And I promised myself I wouldn’t cower and run. This is me not hiding anymore. Not running.
When we finally break away, our chests are heaving, chasing air we forgot to breathe. He touches his forehead to mine and then steps back. Reaches for his phone. “I’ll call. One of everything. But we’re splitting the leftovers.”
I laugh and cover his hand with mine before he has a chance to dial. “Let me look at the menu first. Maybe not one of everything. But definitely tres leches cake for dessert.”
“We’ll get the food. And then we’ll talk strategies to stop my father and make sure there’s nothing he can do to force the owner to sell the building.”
I nibble on my still stinging lips. “You’ll be a double agent?”
“I’ll be your agent. And only yours. Your man on the inside. We’ll stay a step ahead of him at all times.” He smiles like doing this gives him great pleasure.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“What? Sticking it to my father? Sabotaging him and undoing all his work right under his nose? Yes, I am. I got a taste of it with my cousins. And I liked it.”
I believe him. He’s on my side. With each word, the tension between us unravels, replaced by warmth that feels like the promise of more.
“I’m so full. You’re going to have to roll me down the road all the way home.”
He laughs. “I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you home, fireman style. No rolling needed.”
An image forms in my mind. Me over his broad shoulder, one of his arms around my thighs, holding me to him, the other firmly planted on my ass. And Elliott is carrying me to his bed, not down the street. The image is so erotic. I have to press my lips together to curb a moan.
Something in my face must have given away the dirty thoughts in my mind because his eyes go dark and sultry. His laughing face goes serious and something primal and needy replaces the expression.
“You keep looking at me like that, and I won’t be able to hold back.”
“Hold back from what?” My voice is husky, low. He releases a shuddered breath. “Hold back from doing wicked things to you.”
“Maybe I want wicked things done to me.” Who am I right now? I can barely recognize myself. I have never been this forward in my life.
“Jillian.” My name is a groan.
I stand up and walk around the table. He pushes his chair back, making room for me to get closer. I straddle his lap. With my fingers in his hair, I pull him to me. My mouth finds his, and he’s ready for me. His hands go to my hips and pull me closer. His erection presses into my belly. It’s been so long since I was touched like this. So long since I felt any kind of desire. So long since I wanted to be with a man. No, not any man. This man.
I give in to my desire, to my need, to the craving he’s awakened in me. His hands grip my hips and I grind into him. Rocking against his hardness and wishing there were fewer barriers between us.
Elliott moans. “Jillian.”
I swallow the sound of my name, rocking harder against him. His hips thrust into me, urgency building and building and begging for release. The friction is a maddening and sweet torture.
“More, more, more,” I beg, my face buried in his neck, my hands clutching at his biceps. My body moves against his, possessed by need and pain and anger and grief and every emotion I’ve buried deep inside me. All of it, all of me bubbling to the surface like lava in a volcano ready to erupt .
And then it does. I explode into a million tiny pieces, my head jerks up, my eyes roll back, my body seizes and convulses, and my lungs lock. I can’t breathe even as my mouth opens in a silent scream.
It’s like having an out-of-body experience. I see myself, so shameless and so forward as I use Elliott as an escape for all the pain I’ve kept inside. I see all the different broken parts of me, all the ways I’ve failed myself. Every fragment of my shattered dreams and the future I’d been so certain of before it was stolen from me.
And like in slow motion, a reverse explosion. Those fragments coming back, rearranging themselves into new shapes, new memories, a new me, and hope for a new future. With or without Elliott in it, I will survive.
My body goes limp. I fall against his chest, hiding my face in his shoulder. My body still vibrates even as my heartbeat returns to normal.
His arms go around me, followed by a shushing sound and his hands gently rubbing my back. It’s then I realize I’m crying. Tears stream down my face unbidden.
I sob and words I never imagined I’d say climb up my chest and claw at my throat and spill out of my mouth. “I’m free.”