Chapter Eleven
Zeppelin
“Are you okay?”
It’s been weeks since I last saw Chanel. Since Dorian showed up to give me a beatdown that I know I deserved.
She never called. Never does. Just shows up, has her way with me, and leaves me behind to pick up the pieces.
After getting caught, seeing her on my front porch feels like a slap to the face. She should have stayed away. It would have been the best for all of us.
“Great,” I say.
Rather than let her inside like I normally would, I lean on the doorframe and block her path. I know that if I let her inside, we’ll end up with nothing resolved or anything truly said. The minute she steps over that threshold, we’ll be naked and humping like love-struck teenagers.
“Don’t be like that. Let me make it up to you,” Chanel says with the seductive smile that usually gets her whatever she wants.
Somehow, it doesn’t land the way it always used to. The effect it has on me isn’t there. All I can think about is how many men she gives that same smile to. Is that part of the reason she advanced so far up the corporate ladder considering she’s only a paralegal, not a lawyer?
She reaches out to touch me, her hands sliding up my biceps. She takes a step forward, clearly expecting me to back up and bring us into the house. The smirk falls when my feet stay firmly planted where they are, both of us shocked her smile and touch haven’t done me in yet.
Hell, I didn’t expect my conviction to hold once she touched me. I seem to want to end the suffering more than I thought. Or maybe it’s Bernie’s voice in my mind asking me why I let Chanel treat me like shit.
Her touch burns like it always has, but it doesn’t weaken my resolve. Instead, it makes me see images of her making love to Dorian. What she had to do to make up for cheating on him. Doing things she won’t do with me. Probably faking it for him to make him feel like a man.
And the burn turns to ice when I imagine her in a wedding dress. She walks down the aisle holding flowers. Walking toward Dorian, not me.
“We can’t keep doing this, Chanel,” I say. “Not forever.”
Yep, the words surprise me as much as they do her, but she’s the one who steps back to glare at me. Never in my life have I turned her down before. But why would I let her break my heart every time she comes around when I’d give her my entire fucking world?
“Well, not with that attitude, we can’t.”
The way she jokes about the situation cuts deeper than I anticipated. Does she really not care how much this situation between us kills me? How hard it is to watch her walk away after giving me the smallest amount of breadcrumbs?
“Dorian still can’t give you what you need, can he? Is that why you’re standing on my porch right now?” I ask.
“That’s not… You can’t compare the two of you.”
“Try. Does he make your toes curl? Do you crave his touch? Every part of his body on every part of yours? Have you let him take that ass like you’ve let me?”
“Stop it.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Hey, you showed up on my porch, not the other way around. I’m trying to figure out why he’s the one you’re planning to chain yourself to for the rest of your life if you still come darkening my doorway. What do you get from me that you can’t from him?”
“It’s just… different, okay?”
“If he fucked you like I do, you’d never drive to my house again. It’s okay. You can admit it.”
Her green eyes shine with unshed tears, and even two weeks ago, that look alone would have had me backtracking.
Apologizing for being so harsh. I would’ve buckled and given in to whatever she wanted, but not today.
Not now. Not after I’ve actually taken the time to evaluate and see just how fucked up this situation I saw as a relationship really is.
“I still love you,” she admits, her voice low. “Yes, the sex is incredible, but it’s not just the sex.”
“Then why is that all you’re willing to give me?”
“Because our lives don’t align.”
I’m dirt, and she’s gold. I get it. In a way, I think I’ve always known. That she likes to roll around in the mud, but she doesn’t want to be seen by others as dirty. That’s what I make her.
“You have a decision to make. Now. Right here.”
“Zep—”
“Choose.”
Chanel’s eyes shoot to the ground, and I know. Deep down, I’ve always known. It’s why I’ve never had the courage to say the words before, and it hurts the way I expected.
The pain of knowing I’m nothing but a cheap thrill to scratch an itch her soon-to-be husband can’t quite reach hurts more than a bullet. With a bullet, you know you’ll either die or heal. It’ll be over eventually. This doesn’t have that same guarantee.
“Please don’t make me say it,” she whispers.
“I think you just did. That’s it, Chanel. We’re done.”
She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, her lip trembling as the tears finally fall. “No, we’re not done. Our story isn’t over yet.”
“Babe, you chose Dorian. Just because you can’t say the words doesn’t change the facts. Dorian is the man you’re going to spend your life with, and that means you have to stop coming over here to spend a night or two a month in my bed.”
Swallowing, she looks up with those glassy eyes. “It’s not just sex—”
“I’m done. I’m moving on.”
Chanel looks shocked and disbelieving, and if I’m totally honest, I have no idea where those words came from. They just tumbled out of my mouth, and I can’t take them back. And I’m not sure I’d want to if I could.
Never in my life did I think that I’d be the one to end things with her.
She’s the one who always does the leaving.
But Dorian was right. I have to be the one to stop this.
To turn her away. She won’t stop coming back to me otherwise, and the only person who wins is Chanel. Dorian and I both keep losing.
“Zep, come on. You don’t mean that.”
“I can’t do this anymore. Stop coming around here, okay?
You made your choice, and that choice isn’t me.
Teach Dorian to fuck the way you want. To become the man to help you when you get your ass in trouble like you tend to do.
To know how to do everything you keep coming here for because I’m not doing it anymore. ”
This seems to shift some type of resolve in her because she squares her shoulders and stands as tall as possible. “I know you don’t mean that.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let me inside. Prove to me that you’re done.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
A smirk appears, and she wipes her eyes. “You won’t let me through that doorway because you know the moment that door closes, you can’t resist. Your body will react the same way it always does, and we’ll be fucking like animals on the stairs because we can’t make it to the bedroom.”
She’s not entirely wrong. I don’t know how strong I’ll stay when we’re not out in the open. Behind closed doors, it’s just us, and I’ll probably cave.
“You’re right. I want you, Chanel. I might always want you. But I’m tired of wanting what I can’t have.”
“I’m offering—”
“You’re not offering me shit,” I cut in. “You toss me crumbs that kept me barely satisfied for years, but it’s not enough for me anymore. I want more, and you won’t give me that. So, no, you can’t come inside. I’m protecting myself by keeping us out here.”
“I don’t toss you crumbs.”
Now I’m getting pissed. How can she downplay the bullshit rollercoaster we’ve called our relationship since we were teens? “Are you fucking delusional, woman?”
“What are you talking about? We love each other, Zep. I just… I have a different lifestyle that doesn’t fit in Gravelton. It doesn’t fit with…”
“Me. A biker. An outlaw,” I finish. “A man who makes his living by doing unsavory work. Say it.”
“You know I don’t care about how much money you make.”
Bullshit. If she had any idea the real amount in my bank account, she’d probably be on her knees begging to let me keep her. For a while. Then she’d crawl back to Dorian, the mortgage officer.
If I was a banker or accountant, or, hell, a car salesman, this would all be different. What I am is beneath her, and her image means more to her than I ever have.
“You want that lifestyle, and I don’t fit into it. You need to go home. Go back to Dorian. Teach him how to fuck you like I do, and you won’t even remember my name.”
“I don’t want to teach him!” she shouts.
There it is. She wants both. The perfect, white-picket fence life while being sexually satisfied by the bad boy she’s had crawling on his knees after her since they first kissed. And having both the life and the pleasure from the same person doesn’t fulfill her fantasy.
“Then, baby, get used to vanilla, mediocre lovemaking.”
“There’s nothing wrong with lovemaking.”
Coming from the woman who has never let me make love to her, that’s rich.
“No, but sometimes a woman just needs a good pounding. Getting fucked just right. Having her body used and toyed with and pleased to the point she’s about to combust. Like the next orgasm might kill her, but what a way to go, right? "
Chanel pants as she stares at me, and I can smell her arousal. She wants to fuck. Hell, she’d strip naked and let me take her against the door if I just let her inside.
But I don’t.
“Zep—"
“You have another choice to make, Chanel, because you’ve already chosen him.
You can teach your fiancé how to make you as ready to fuck as you are right now, or you can spend the rest of your life being an unsatisfied pillow princess.
I don’t know if he’s capable of getting as dirty as you like, though. ”
“I hate you.”
I laugh. “You went from love to hate pretty fucking fast. Are you saying you want a hate-fuck, then?”
She storms down the stairs, but the way she looks back over her shoulder tells me I’m the victor. She wants me to stop her. To call her back and tell her I’ll give her one last pleasure session before giving in to a lifetime of being the other man.
It’s going to be a long drive back home to the man who gets to keep her. As much as she lets anyone hold her down.
“Goodbye, Chanel,” I say and step inside, locking the door behind me.
To avoid giving in, I head out to the garage and hop on my bike. Chanel stands on my porch when I speed by, and I know this is the right choice.
If I was still inside, I don’t think I could keep her out. Maybe she’ll finally stop making my heart break and shatter.