Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
JOSEPHINE “JO” BOOKER
I step out of the shower and reach for the towel hanging from the rack on the wall. Wrapping it around myself, I make my way toward the vanity, and wipe the steam from the mirror. My reflection stares back at me. The last two days have taken a toll and no amount of eye cream can fix the bags under my eyes or lessen the puffiness of my eyelids. That doesn’t stop me from trying, though. I dig through all my cosmetic bags, and step by step, I go through my nightly routine, applying all the essential oils Cosmo has suggested I use, as well as all the various moisturizers I’ve been influenced to buy. Supposedly each of them to do something different, and heaven forbid you moisturize your forehead with the same shit you put on your cheeks. I don’t know that any of them actually work, but I continue to make the effort. When you’re in the business of making people feel beautiful about themselves, it helps to appear like you’re not riding the hot mess express every day.
And just so you know, diamonds aren’t a girl’s best friend. A good concealer is.
When I’m finally done, I brush out my hair. Rather than blow it out, which will take at least a half hour, I braid it. Tomorrow, when I take the braid out, I’ll look like I stepped out of the eighties, but fuck it. I’m tired.
So fucking tired.
I thought yesterday was the most emotional taxing day of my life, but it’s the gift that keeps giving, and there is no end in sight. One minute I’m fine, and the next, I’m crying, and the crazy thing is I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m sad Andrew’s gone, and I’ll never see his smile or hear his laugh again. Or if it’s because I’m mad. I know that sounds horrible, but it’s true.
I’m so fucking angry.
I’m angry at my brother for giving up.
But mostly, I’m just mad at myself.
He gave up on himself, but I gave up on him too.
Life is short, and as many times as we hear people say it, I don’t think we truly process just how short it is. I’m going to live the rest of my life regretting how things played out between Andrew and I, wishing on everything that I could somehow turn back time and make amends.
After talking with Johnny, I don’t know that I would’ve given Andrew the money he asked me for, especially having learned he was dependent on prescription drugs. But I would’ve done something. I would’ve been present in his life and forced him to get help. I would’ve told him all the things I’ll never get the chance to now.
Like how valuable his life was to me.
And how empty mine is bound to be without him.
I mean I can already feel it.
A big, hollow space deep inside of me, stretching wide.
It’s consuming.
I blink back a fresh set of tears, and rewrap the towel around me, securing it tightly as I make my way into Johnny’s room. The lights are off, but I don’t bother turning them on as I reach for the clothes I unpacked. I tell myself it doesn’t matter what I wear to sleep, that no one will see me. Johnny’s disappeared just like last night and by the time he comes knocking on the door in the morning, I’ll already be dressed and ready.
With that in mind, I hastily pluck at whatever my fingers touch first, which just so happens to be a t-shirt, and a pair of lace panties. I throw the shirt over my head and pull the panties up my legs. Then I turn toward the bed and freeze. There, sprawled across the bed with his hands propped behind his head, Johnny sleeps soundly. I don’t let myself appreciate the view.
Who cares that he’s sleeping? He’ll eventually wake up and there is no way I’m going let him find me half naked.
I spin around to grab more clothes and I trip over his boots. It happens so fast that I don’t have time to brace myself for the fall. I hit the floor hard, face first.
“Ouch,” I yelp.
Chestnut barks, and rushes to my side, his big body hoovering over me as he continues to bark.
“Shh! No need to bark. You’re gonna wake him.”
“Too late,” Johnny grumbles, his voice thick with sleep. “What happened?”
I smooth my hand over Chestnut’s back. “Nothing. I’m good.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing.”
Chestnut relents but settles on the floor next to me. I splay my palms flat against the linoleum and lift myself onto my knees. Then I realize if I stand right now, Johnny’s going to get an eyeful. The t-shirt I’m wearing barely covers my ass. Groaning, I drop back down and lay flat across the floor. My knees burn and I’m pretty sure I busted my lip on the corner of his dresser, but I’m not moving. No, I’ll just camp out here with the dog until Johnny’s snoring.
“Jo,” he calls exasperatedly.
“I’m fine,” I squeak. “Everything is fine. Go back to bed.”
Please for the love of God, go back to bed.
Cringing, I roll onto my side. I’d fucking slide under the bed if I was sure I wouldn’t get stuck, but there is no way—not with this ass.
“If you’re so fine, why aren’t you getting up off the floor?”
“Um…”
Come on, Jo. Think of something!
“Your bed is lumpy,” I blurt.
As soon as the words leave my lips, I suppress a groan. I like to think of myself as a relatively smart woman, but my braincells seem to have left me. It’s too late for me to take back the lame excuse, so I fly with it. “The floor is more comfortable.”
“Bullshit. Get your ass in the bed.”
I close my eyes.
That voice.
For fuck’s sake, I need to get it together.
“I didn’t know you’d be sleeping here,” I admit. “I mean you didn’t last night.”
“House is busting at the seams, baby. No extra beds.”
“Right.”
“It’s a big bed.”
Yeah, I thought so too—that’s until I saw him in it.
“Jo,” he calls, his groggy voice holds an exasperated tone to it now. “If you’re that uncomfortable, I’ll go sleep on one of the couches in the common room. That was my plan anyway.”
That doesn’t seem fair, especially after the long day we both have had.
A sigh escapes me, and I roll onto my back.
“I thought I had the room to myself, so I’m not really appropriately dressed to have a sleepover with you,” I admit.
I stare up at the ceiling waiting for him to reply, then I hear the rustling of the sheets. His head pops over the side of the bed, and I tear my gaze away from the popcorn ceiling to look at him, but his eyes are too busy tracking the length of my legs. Heat crawls up my neck and stains my cheeks as I modestly tug the hem of my t-shirt down.
“Jesus,” he growls. His eyes land on my navel and I watch his throat bob with a swallow. Then he lazily lifts those blue eyes to mine. “I thought you ran cold?”
“I do but I hate to feel confined. Sensory issues.”
His eyes flit back to my legs, and he swipes a hand over his face. “The alarm is going to go off in a couple of hours and we both need to sleep if we’re going to survive the next few days.” Tearing his hand away from his face, he meets my gaze, and extends it out to me. “Come to bed, Jo,” he murmurs, his tone gravely.
I swallow thickly, my teeth clamping down on my already busted lip.
“Yeah, okay,” I whisper before I slide my palm into his. Without moving from where he lays on the bed, he pulls me to my feet. I ignore the sting in my knees as he releases my hand and rolls onto his back, making room for me on the bed.
Acutely aware that he’s staring at me, I pull the comforter down.
“What’d I tell you about biting your lip?”
Ignoring him, I release my lip and slide into the bed, dragging the comforter up my body.
“I thought you didn’t like to be confined.”
“I don’t,” I volley, tucking the end of the comforter under my chin. I’ll probably kick the blanket off at some point during the night, but while I’m conscious it’s best I cover myself up. A girl’s gotta save face when she can.
When I’m fully covered and resemble a burrito, I turn my head. An amused expression fills his handsome face, and my stomach clenches. It’s been too long since I’ve shared a bed with a man, and the last guy I had sex with left before I even had a chance to close my legs.
What can I say? I really know how to pick them.
I sigh. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like, I’m ridiculous.”
He shrugs a shoulder before tearing his gaze away from me, then swings his legs over the side of the bed. “You are ridiculous.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” He reaches behind him and pulls his t-shirt over his head, tossing it across the room before he rises to his full height. My gaze travels along his corded back and the ink that decorates every inch of his skin and my mouth instantly goes dry.
What the hell is he doing?
The sound of his belt buckle fills my ears, and my eyes widen.
Oh, no.
He drags his jeans down his legs, revealing a pair of tight, black boxer briefs. They hug his ass and cling to his quads. If he turns around, I’m fucked.
Luckily, he drops his ass back onto the bed and bends over to remove his socks, letting them fly across the room just like he did his shirt.
My luck runs out, though, because he stands again, and when he turns around, my gaze lowers to the thick bulge pressing against his boxers.
By some miracle of God, I manage to suppress a moan from escaping the back of my throat.
“We’re even,” he grinds out.
My gaze snaps back to his face and my brows pinch together.
“Excuse me?”
“Got my fill staring at you in those lace panties, and now you got yours staring at my cock.”
I’m so shocked by his words, my grip slips and when he tugs on the comforter, it drops from my chin to my waist as he climbs into the bed.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Yeah, neither was I,” he grunts.
There is no use in arguing, so I press my lips together, and try my best to ignore him. But as the minutes tick by, it becomes more difficult. Frustrated, I turn on my side, placing my back to him, and bring my knees to my stomach. My feet are ice cold.
“Jesus Christ,” Johnny hisses.
I’m about to ask what’s his problem when I feel him turn in the bed. His hands close around my ankles, and he drags my feet toward him. His body presses against mine as he tucks my feet between his legs and slings his arm around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as his legs clamp around my feet.
My body goes completely still as he draws me even closer. Soon my ass is nestled against his cock and my back is flush with his chest, his hot breath coming in soft pants against my shoulder.
“Keeping your feet warm. Now go to bed before I find other ways to keep you warm.”
It’s meant to be a warning, I’m sure, but those words hit low in my belly, and I feel my thighs clench.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
He groans.
“Fuck.”
Yeah, pal. I feel you.
All. Of. You.
Every inch.