Chapter Nineteen
Lochlan
T here haven’t been many moments in my life where I’ve struggled with restraint.
The first time it happened was my first week in prison when I got jumped for the first time and nearly used all my pent up rage to kill the fucker.
I spent a day in the infirmary.
He spent a month there.
Frank putting Jo in danger made me snap, and I’m not sure how far I would have taken it if Hayes hadn’t called me off.
But the moment Jo sat in my lap, the chaos in my head was so unhinged I could hardly breathe.
The smallest lapse in control, and I was going to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out there.
Her touch is a miracle, but knowing I can’t have my way with her is a curse.
The hold she has on me is deeply deranged.
I pull my hand off the steering wheel, glancing at my palm subtly before clenching it.
Shimmer.
The lotion on her legs clings to me, forcing more of my impure thoughts about her to the surface while she sits beside me, mortified that the event took place .
“I’ve never done that before,” she whispers suddenly, just loud enough to hear over the engine.
“What?”
“Sat on a man’s lap.”
“In public?”
Her silence lingers.
“Not exactly.”
I peek at her from the corner of my eye, and she’s staring out the passenger side window, deep in thought.
“I’ve never been so close to a man. Ever ,” she finally admits.
I slam on the brakes harder than necessary at the red light, making us both jerk against our seat belts.
“What?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just needed you to know that I didn’t freak out because of anything you did. I got overwhelmed. It was all me.”
She did not just tell me she’s never been with a man.
I heard it wrong.
There’s no way.
“You’ve never had a boyfriend?” I can’t hide the disbelief from leaving my mouth and sounding like an accusation.
“Been engaged twice against my will. No boyfriends allowed, though.” She scoffs.
“By the time I got to college, I was so inexperienced around boys that I didn’t even try. I imagined that prince charming would come along and erase the awkwardness of it for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My mother convinced me that I had to look a certain way, act a certain way, to appeal to the male gaze. She ensured I looked like the ideal woman, suitable for marriage, but it was never for my own good. It was to secure a future connection to whoever I ended up marrying.
“I needed to save myself for marriage, but I didn’t get any say on who the marriage was to.
I needed to be able to impress my future husband but don’t act flirtatious because they’ll think you’re slutty,” she rambles on, firing herself up.
“God forbid I find someone who would actually want me for me. Not someone who wanted to up their political career. God forbid I find someone to give myself to who actually loves me,” her voice fizzles out.
“You’re young. You still have time.”
She shakes her head.
“No one has ever been able to see me for me. They see me for my father’s connections, his money, my looks, or my brother’s career ambitions. I’m just a pawn. I’ll never be enough for anyone. I can only hope one day I’ll find a guy who might actually fall in love with me ,” she states hopefully.
I scoff from deep in my chest and her eyes turn to slits.
“What?”
“That’s stupid.”
“Why?” She asks in offense.
“Because any man who spends a little time in your presence will fall in love with you, darlin’.”
Her sad eyes twinkle brightly for a moment before she blinks it away.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Men want a family, and I can’t have children.”
If I weren’t already parking in front of the house, I would have slammed on the brakes again.
“What?”
“I found out just after I turned 19. Premature ovarian failure. My doctor said if they had caught it sooner, they might have been able to do an egg retrieval, but… No one knows. Except you, now. I made sure my parents didn’t see my medical bills. They thought I went into surgery to remove a cyst.” She rolls her eyes as she wipes a tear from her cheek.
“They didn’t even bother driving me to or home from the surgery center.”
“Why didn’t you want to tell them?”
“Because then they’d see me as damaged goods, and it’d be one more reason for them to look down on me. To them, I’ll be useless if I can’t have children.”
“Jo…” Now I can imagine why Emory’s story hit her so hard.
It’s not fair that some of the worst people on the planet can reproduce, but a light like Jo can’t physically have children if she wants them.
* * *
“Maybe you should slow down.” I cringe slightly as she tips the second bottle of wine into her mouth.
She started drinking from a glass, but apparently it wasn’t efficient enough.
She said she needed a drink, and I convinced her to come inside because I didn’t want her to be alone.
Now, I’m worried she’ll pass out.
“I mean, what’s so wrong with me? Am I so terrible?”
“There is nothing wrong with you.”
“Then why doesn’t anyone want me? My family… A man… You.”
She’s drunk enough that she doesn’t wait for a response from me.
“You can’t wait to get rid of me. You told me I was worse than prison.”
“No, I didn– ”
She cuts me off.
“I’m going to die alone.” She tips the bottle back again, gulping loudly.
When I told her that being around her felt like prison, I meant it, but not in the way she thinks.
Her existence is torturous to be around.
I can’t imagine a world without her in it, and yet the fact that I’m subjected to her presence is a twisted joke.
I want to be near her in every way, I only want to breathe the air that has graced her lips, but I can’t.
I am a grown man, and I’ve lived multiple lives in my time on Earth.
But nothing has come close to being here at the same time as Jo.
Every second of every day, I want to be near her, hearing her sweet voice or having her smile aimed my way, but I have to watch as her family ignores her.
I have to sit by and watch the fuckers who are meant to cherish her, abuse the gift they were given.
She is the sun their universe should revolve around.
She is the main character.
And, I can’t have her.
Because I’m the seedy villain locked away in the sewer.
I’m the beast.
“I’ve never even seen a penis. Can you believe that? I mean I have, but not in real life.” She hiccups.
She is very drunk.
“Okay, I think it’s time for bed.”
She stands from my couch, wobbling slightly even though she tossed her heels over the arm a while ago.
“I’ve never even been kissed properly.”
I ignore every word coming out of her mouth.
It’s not helping the internal battle raging inside of me to show her how damn desirable she is .
“It’s overrated,” I grunt instead.
I’ve never been particularly excited about kissing someone, it’s more a means to an end.
“What, why?” She asks as she claws at the back of her dress, trying to get the zipper.
I can’t tell her how enticing her lips are and how they would blow my opinion out of the water.
“Stop, let me get it.” I unzip her dress halfway down her back, only intending to help her so she’s not stuck in it, but she reaches behind herself and unzips it the rest of the way, letting it slip from her body.
“Jesus Christ.” I spin around, facing the wall, before it hits the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Sleeping,” she mumbles.
After a couple of seconds of silence, I break my neck looking over my shoulder.
She’s lying on the couch with the flannel throw blanket I keep on the back.
Her eyes are closed, and it already sounds like she’s snoring and fast asleep.
Naked under my blanket…
In my house…
Suddenly, the air is too thick to breathe, and I have to dash onto the porch to gasp for breath.
What the hell am I going to do with this woman?