Chapter 8
Charles
Trying again looked like dinner, steaks with my signature honey butter and a side of sweet potatoes. I searched through the cabin for a tablecloth, or something that could be used as one, and a candle. I knew I wasn’t getting anything so nice as a flower in this storm, but I wanted to do the best I could with what was here.
Jess slipped away into the bathroom before I could say anything to her. She was still hiding from me. I immediately pictured her in the bath with soapy water sluicing down her pale skin and hiding every part I wanted to explore. Fuck. It was tempting to go take care of the problem that image produced, but I wanted to take advantage of the time to get dinner finished and make the place look as good as I could.
Jess walked out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind her, her hair curling slightly from the moisture, draped head to foot in a heavy robe. That couldn’t have been comfortable in the warm steam of the bathroom. For that matter, it wouldn’t have been practical in Savannah, either. I tried not to smile at the thought that she brought it just to be armor against me.
“Dinner’s almost done,” I said simply. “Go get dressed and I’ll have it plated and ready to eat.” She stared at the dining table, decked out in an extra sheet, the best settings this place boasted, and a candle for a moment before darting into the bedroom. I was a little worried when she took longer than I expected to come out, and I prayed she wouldn’t decide to keep hiding.
When she emerged, she was dressed in tight jeans and a light sweater. Damn, she looked good. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she dressed up for me. I pulled out her chair for her as she walked into the kitchen.
“Thank you,” she said. She looked up at me, an odd expression on her face, like she couldn’t quite figure something out.
“I hope you’re ok with steak and sweet potatoes. It’s a favorite of mine,” I said as I made my way to the seat across from her.
She assessed her dinner like it was going to bite her, but the moan that came out of her mouth on the first bite of food was borderline indecent and definitely something I wanted to hear again. My jeans were suddenly too tight, and my chest swelled with pride. I drew that sound out of her, even if it was just with food.
“I never would have thought honey on steak would be good, but this is amazing,” she said after a few more bites. I sat there, transfixed. Watching her enjoy the food, watching her tongue dart out and lick the honey from her lips, was driving me crazy. If we didn’t figure this out, I was going to combust.
“I love honey on my meat,” I said with a giant grin. It took her a minute to follow me, but she snorted with laughter and rolled her eyes as soon as she did. That was more of a reaction from her than I’d gotten all day.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said as she took another bite and melted into her seat from how good it was.
“Anytime, Angel.”
Her smile fell at the nickname. Shit. I didn’t want that.
Dinner conversation was awkward after that, and I was kicking myself for screwing this up. Maybe I was delusional, thinking I could make us work again.
“Why did you end it?” I ripped the band-aid off after dinner. The question had been stewing for years and every effort I’ve made to let her warm up to me this weekend had been met with more resistance and not less. I probably should have kept it to myself, but the words were out of my mouth before I could swallow them down again. If I was going to fuck up, I might as well fuck up royally, I guess.
“What?” She asked. She went still, her arm no longer brushed mine while we washed and dried dishes.
“Why did you break up with me?” I pressed. She wasn’t getting out of this. I needed an answer.
“Oh, you know,” she said evasively. “It just wouldn’t have worked.” Her voice was higher than usual as she carefully went back to washing a plate, staunchly refusing to look my way.
“No.” I turned towards her, putting the dish down I was holding so I wouldn’t accidentally break it in frustration. “I don’t know. Enlighten me.”
“Do we really have to go over this?” She stopped pretending to wash dishes and finally turned to look at me.
“Yes.” She seemed to realize just how close we were and her eyes widened at the proximity. I didn’t back away, though.
“I just — I don’t think — we were so young.” She stammered out her excuses, like she was grasping for whatever one might placate me rather than saying the truth.
“What does young have to do with anything? I loved you.” I didn’t need to tell her it was present tense love and not past tense. Not yet. “We could have made it work.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She didn’t take her eyes off me, but the panicked look in them sliced through me. It wasn’t enough to deter me, though.
“So I’m not allowed to know why you ripped my heart out?” I struggled to keep my voice low and calm at this point. She may not want to talk about it, but I sure as hell wanted an explanation. This wasn’t just her story. She didn’t get to dictate it, with no consideration for me.
“I had to,” she whispered.
“What do you mean, you had to?”
“I just did.” She took a step back from me and eyed the front door. This woman was infuriating. She would not shut this down. Not now.
“Why?” I pushed her more. I stepped towards her again. She wasn’t going to run from this again. She wasn’t going to run from me.
“Because I’m not allowed to be happy!” She shouted at me. My whole body stilled at that declaration. We stood close enough that her chest brushed my own as it rose and fell with her rapid breathing.
“What?” My voice was low and dangerous and her eyes widened at the sound. Whoever taught her that was going to see just how dangerous I could be.
“I mean — I didn’t — I, Forget I said that.” She fumbled for a moment as she backed away from me. I advanced on her until she was against the wall.
“What do you mean, you aren’t allowed to be happy?” I pressed so close to her I could see tendrils of her hair move with my words. She had to strain to look up at me, but her eyes didn’t leave mine.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” she said. Her voice was a whimper, barely there.
“Yes, you did. Now tell me, who told you that?” I brought my hand up by her head and pressed it against the wall to keep myself from grabbing her right then and shaking the answer out of her. Or kissing her. I wasn’t sure which it would be.
“My dad?” She said like it was a question. I just stared down at her. “He — you know he was a drunk. I’ve been in therapy for years. I just — I’m so —” She shook her head, unable to finish her sentence and I could see her eyes water from whatever slurry of emotions were running through her.
I closed my eyes briefly and took a deep breath, but I didn’t move and she didn’t run away.
“I’m not your dad.” A stray tear trace down her cheek.
“Oh, Charles. I know. It’s just that,” she looked away from me but still didn’t run. “Every time something good happened, he showed up drunk and I’m trying. I’m really trying to work through it.” She sounded so wounded talking about this and my heart beat out of my chest, reaching for her, so it can make hers whole.
When she didn’t speak or move for a while, I gently guided her face until she was looking at me.
“Just to be clear,” I said slowly, “you get to be happy.” That came out sounding like a threat. “I will show you just how happy I can make you.”
I descended on her then, my mouth claimed hers. A needy moan escaped her and then she was kissing me back, hard and desperate. Her hands tangled in my shirt and pulled me impossibly closer. Her soft curves gave way to my hard body, and the heat of her fed the inferno between us. I ran my hands up her platinum locks and used my grip to angle her how I wanted her.
She pressed herself closer still and rubbed herself along me like a cat begging for my attention.
She broke free of my kiss. Her breaths were fast, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen. I did that to her. I marked her. Mine.
I held her, and she stared at me like she was memorizing my face.
“No,” I growled out.
“No, what?” A cute little frown formed between her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like this is the last time you will see me. Like you have to memorize my face for when you leave again.”
She reached up and touched my cheek. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something and then closed it again. Then she surprised the hell out of me and stood on her toes and kissed me. Her lips tasted like mine. I groaned and pulled her to me, my fingers sinking into her.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” she said with a tone of regret. She was going to leave again.
“Then don’t,” I begged.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Her voice was soft and pleading.
“Then don’t.”
She was shaking her head. Clearly, I hadn’t done enough to convince her. Clearly, she was holding something back. I just stood there waiting for her to fill the silence.
“I’m a mess, Charles!” She finally cried out, tears coming down in earnest. I waited for her to explain what she meant. “I’m a mess and I was never good enough for you and you were going off to join the Marines and my mom left on prom night and all I could think about was how I didn’t get to have good things and if I kept you —” Her voice broke, and she needed a minute to continue. “If I kept you forever, you’d be stuck with a broken girl.”
She was crying so hard now. I knew it would be useless to tell her how amazing she was, so instead, I held her and let her cry.
“And you’re so — so perfect, and I’m a mess. I was so anxious and afraid.” She kept going as I ran my hands up and down her back. She was shaking, whether from the cold of the wall or the sobs coming from her. I didn’t know.
“I’m not perfect,” I finally said. It was probably the least helpful thing I could have said. “I know exactly who you are, Jess. I’ve always known who you are.” She continued sobbing, and I didn’t let her go. I held her like it would be the last time I would feel her. Hell, if I couldn’t get her to see reason, maybe it would be.
“It’s too late,” she said, and I pulled back to look at her.
“What do you mean?” My heart broke. “Is there someone else?”
“Someone else?” She sounded incredulous, but I didn’t understand why.
“If there’s someone else, just tell me.” I didn’t mean to sound pained, but it came out like that, anyway.
“Come on, Charles. You have perfect eyesight. You can see me. Are you really going to stand there and ask if there is someone else?” I looked down at her, but still couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever known. Any man would be lucky to sleep at her feet. “I’m fat,” she said bluntly, when I still didn’t understand.
“I don’t see why that matters,” I said, still confused. Didn’t she own a mirror? Couldn’t she see for herself how beautiful she was?
“Don’t see how that matters? I’m basically invisible, but I accepted that. I threw myself into my business and found meaning there, but I don’t have men beating down my door.” Good, fewer men I’d have to beat down. “Then here you are, perfect as usual. So perfect it hurts. How am I supposed to measure up to that? How am I supposed to be good enough?” She was crying again, but I couldn’t just stand here and listen to this anymore.
“I’m hardly perfect. Do you know why I’ve bulked up? These aren’t exactly military approved muscles.” I ran my hands down her sides while I asked the question.
She shook her head.
“So I can do this.” I lifted her then and pushed her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around me and the heat of her pressed against me exactly where I wanted it most. I moved my hands to her ass and pulled her in tighter. I was so hard it bordered on painful.
She let out a startled yelp. Her eyes were wide. Our faces were level with each other, and I leaned in close.
“I have never stopped thinking about you, never stopped following your life. Hell, I’ll even admit I stalked your social media, and I dreamed. I dreamed of lifting you up and fucking you hard, of hearing you scream my name, of holding you close and never letting you go. So I got strong, strong enough to fuck you how you deserve. I worked my way up in the Marines so I could provide for you. I did all this, became all this, for you. So I could finally have you.”
I didn’t wait for her response, and instead I crushed my mouth to hers. She had opened it in surprise and I didn’t hesitate to thrust my tongue in where it belonged. There was only one place I could think that would be a better home for it. She kissed me back. Her hands weaving into my hair and pulled my head how she wanted. The fire that had always been between us roared its approval.
I could feel her moving, grinding herself on me, and I used my grip on her ass to move her along, encouraging her to find pleasure in me. I released her mouth and looking into her eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, the silver overtaken by the black of her pupil.
She was shaking her head.
“I didn’t know.”
“Angel.” She had stopped moving, so I let her down and brushed her hair from her face. “Talk to me. Tell me when you are afraid. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.” I cupped her cheek and tilted her head towards me. All the while, I ran my thumb along her lip, my hand spanning her jaw. I leaned in to kiss her again. This time I was less animal and more man. I teased her, nibbling on her lips, coaxing her to open to me. She didn’t hesitate to let me in and I groaned as I drank my fill of her.
Her hands had moved now to my shirt, lifting it and sliding her hands underneath, along my stomach, and up to my chest. She moaned, the sound needy and sweet.
“I want you, Charles,” she said, her voice husky and low.
“You have me, always.”
“I need to go slow,” she said, her words contradicting her actions, but I’d take anything as slow as she wanted.
“As long as you are mine, we can go at whatever pace you want.”
She kissed me again, short and soft and so achingly sweet.