Chapter Twelve
I’m sitting in the small audience at a TV studio in Copenhagen.
TMS are doing an unplugged show for a division of MTV which will be aired worldwide in a few days.
Everyone in the audience is a competition winner. The competition was put out by the station a few weeks back, so to win a ticket to see them perform like this is a big deal.
I’m lucky enough to be here because I know the band. Because I know Jake. And I’m also here to work too. But that aside, I don’t discount how very fortunate I am to be here.
The set is an hour long, and the guys are half-an hour in, playing acoustic mainly. Denny is off the drums, and is playing keyboard tonight. I didn’t even know he could play until now.
Jake is sitting on a stool, microphone in front of him, playing acoustic guitar, and Tom is playing rhythm. Smith’s not playing this show tonight.
Jake finishes up singing, ‘Microscopic’ another song off the ‘Creed’ album. The audience clap.
Jake pauses, lightly strumming his fingers over the strings, he breathes into the mic.
“Okay so I’m going back to song from our first ever album now. A good friend of mine told me that it’s her favourite of all the songs I’ve ever wrote, so tonight, I’m dedicating it to her.” He looks straight at me. “Trudy Bennett this one’s for you.”
I gulp down.
Me? He’s singing a song for me.
Shit.
I suddenly feel a little breathless. Then when he starts to sing ‘Through It All’, those hauntingly beautiful lyrics he once wrote, strumming his guitar, my heart starts to drum pure feeling in my chest.
And I feel a heavy mixture of emotions stream through me.
It is pin drop silent in here and I am spellbound to him.
I’m not the only one. Everyone in this room is eyes on Jake, and it’s in this exact moment, I truly see just to the level of power he has over people.
Mostly, over me.
I’m so totally mesmerised by him.
And so totally in lust with him.
And so totally screwed.
I have my notebook with me in my hand ready to make notes, but I can’t move. I can’t do anything except breathe.
Even when he finishes up the song, I’m still immobile.
And for the next half hour of the show, all I can do is watch Jake sing
Watching as he makes every single woman in this room feel like he’s singing to her, that tonight she is the one he is taking home. She’s the one he’s going to share his bed with tonight.
And in this moment all I want, more than anything, is to be the one he chooses.
We stay backstage after the show and have some drinks with the staff. The talk is business, mostly about when the recording of the show will go out, and how they felt it went. The general consensus is everyone is really happy, but in all honesty, I’m barely listening.
Jake is entrancing tonight, more so than normal. And I’m struggling to keep my eyes off him. Something has changed since the show. There’s an almost physical charge there, flowing out of me and heat seeking onto him like a bloody missile.
So evident and tangible I’m sure people must be able to see it. I’m kind of worried he can.
I don’t know maybe it’s always been there, but now, it’s heightened somehow for some unknown reason. So I’m keeping my distance from him, staying in the safe zone for as long as I can, until this thing, whatever it is, goes or dies down at the very least.
Because right now I want Jake.
I just need to keep repeating my Will mantra.
I love Will. I love Will. I love Will.
Jake’s still on a high from the show, all the guys are for that matter. Maybe it’s something about smaller intimate shows and the live recording for TV that buzzes them, but they are happy, buoyant, and everyone’s feeling it, including me.
But I’ve noticed that Jake seems even more pumped than the rest, and he is not ready to go back to the hotel.
I’m also feeling wired from my Jake hormones which are currently on heat, but mainly because of the serenade Jake did to me – I wonder if that’s what set me off, oh and also the accompanying two glasses of wine I’ve had all contributing to a horny Tru.
Horny Tru, who wants in Jake’s pants.
All in all, not great.
Well it would be great I imagine, but it’s not going to happen.
Jake doesn’t see me like that. I know he screws any woman he deems sexy enough – which is most, but to him I’m just Tru Bennett who he used to live next door to once upon a time. His newly reacquainted best-friend.
Best friends, that’s what me and Jake are.
I know we have the innocent flirty banter thing going on, but that’s all it is, innocent.
And of course I’m with Will.
Will my boyfriend. Who I love very much.
And even though my feet are killing me from my shoes; note to self, break expensive pretty shoes in before wearing for a night out, I still hear myself agreeing to go clubbing with the guys.
With Jake.
Deep down, I know I’m just not ready to be away from him yet. Dangerous, but also very true.
So now we’re in the car on our way to an exclusive club here in Copenhagen.
Ben is in the car behind driving Denny and Smith. And Dave is driving me, Tom and Jake.
Tom is in the front, and I’m in the back with Jake. I’m hyper aware of his nearness. Of every single move he makes. And even though this car has a roomy back seat, Jake is sitting close to me.
Close enough for me to feel his heat in this well air-conditioned car. I know he doesn’t realise or mean to, but he’s not helping my current attraction to him subside at all.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s doing it on purpose.
Dave pulls the car up outside the club. It looks fancy and expensive, and there is a queue of people waiting to go in.
Dave tells us to wait in the car, and I watch as he goes over to the three burly doormen and speaks to one of them who looks to be in charge. These guys are big but they have nothing on Dave, and he seems to have such an air of authority over these doormen as he speaks to them.
The head doorman looks over Dave’s shoulder in the direction of our car, then nods his head.
Dave hands the car keys to one of the other doormen, who then follows him toward our car.
Dave opens Jake’s door, then Tom’s, as the doorman climbs into the driver seat of our car.
Jake climbs out, and then waiting for me, takes my hand, helping me out of the car. He doesn’t let go when I’m out of the car and no longer needing his help, and my body flames under his touch.
The music is pumping out of the club, and the level of chatter from the people in the queue increases exponentially at the arrival of the TMS boys.
I feel proud in this moment to be here with them.
Denny and Smith join us, leaving Ben to park their car, and then we all walk toward the club entrance, Dave sticking close by Jake, who is keeping me close to him, and the doormen make a clear path for us into the club.
Once inside, a guy introducing himself as the manager of the club guides us straight up to the VIP section.
I know Jake hates VIP sections in clubs. He never has them at the after show parties. When I asked him why, he said, ‘What’s the point of throwing a party and then just sitting on the outside watching everyone else have all the f*ckin’ fun.’
His words not mine.
But he also knows it’s not always viable for him to go to a club and sit in the cheap seats, so to say, well not unless he’s after a good groping and a night of signing autographs and posing for pictures. Actually knowing Jake, the groping probably wouldn’t bother him too much.
And I guess him and the guys being up in the VIP section makes Dave and Ben’s job a lot easier.
Me personally, as I’ve recently discovered, am also not a huge fan of the VIP sections either, well, except for maybe at airports – those are my new found love.
I just find VIP’s in clubs to be a little pretentious, and I’m taking about the people in them. Not Jake and the guys of course. We’re all kind pretty much cut from the same cloth in that respect.
Jake and me especially.
The fun is happening downstairs in the main part of the club, not in this stuffy area, but it’s not like I can just off and hop downstairs to mingle. It would be rude of me.
So I’m here in the VIP section, ensuring not to talk to Jake too much.
Right now I’m sitting in a booth talking to Denny.
I like Denny, and even more so, the more time I spend with him. He’s the kind of guy, if you were lucky enough to have a brother and got to pick who it would be, then Denny would be your first choice.
He’s funny, quick and laid back, really easy to talk to. And why the guy is single is beyond me. Or maybe it’s a choice, the way he wants his life to be at the moment. It’s known he was in a serious relationship for a long while and they split not long after Jonny died.
So I’ve been sat with Denny for the last hour drinking bottled beer, while he’s been regaling stories of all of their time together at college, before they left to focus on the band, and also when they first started out gigging, things they got up to, that kind of thing.
He’s kept the stories pretty clean – I’m guessing for my benefit. And one thing I have noticed is he’s staying light on the stories about Jake. I can imagine there are a lot of stories to be told about Jake in college and even more on the road with the band, so I wonder why Denny’s holding back on them.
We’ve also been having a real giggle over Tom and his prowling on the ladies.
The man is unstoppable.
Some of these girls just don’t stand a chance. But then I don’t think they want to – I think they are more than willing to be Tom’s girl for the night.
And it seems he’s picked his girl out for the night, seemingly settled on a pretty blonde girl.
Occasionally, I’ve cast a quick glance in Jake’s direction just to see what he’s up to; currently he’s leant up against the bar, elbows rested back on it, drinking beer and talking to Smith.
He’s giving off an air of unapproachable. And he’s showing absolutely no interest in any of the women who are trying to drown him in looks.
Actually now I think about it, since I’ve been on this tour Jake hasn’t been living up to the womanising ways he’s so famous for. Right now he’s talking to Smith. The only married guy here. He’s not with Tom, the one who is always on the lookout for a skirt or some p-ssy, as he puts it.
I wonder if it’s because I’m here. Not that I’m vain enough to think it’s because he wants me. I just mean, I wonder if he’s trying to keep things respectable for my sake.
I hope not. I’d hate for him to feel uncomfortable and not be able to be himself because of me. But I am also glad I don’t have to watch him mauling women.
Maybe I should talk to him about it. Hmm … I’m not sure how I would broach that subject though. One to file for later I think.
Jake glances over catching my eye. I smile at him then focus back onto what Denny is saying.
The next thing I know, Jake is stood over me. “Tru, come and dance with me.”
Picking my bottle of beer up, I glance up at him and shake my head. “No, I can’t be bothered, and my feet are killing me.”
These goddamn shoes, I really should have broken them in first.
“But I want to dance,” he says. There’s a real insistence to his tone. It surprises me.
“So go dance,” I say, giving him a look. “I’m talking to Denny right now.”
“But I don’t want to dance on my own,” he pouts and I know he’s trying a different line of attack. He reminds me of young Jake here in this moment.
I let out a laugh. “Jake there are plenty of willing victims for you to dance with.” I waft my hand around at the women, some who aren’t even pretending not to stare at him right now.
“But I don’t want to dance with them, I want to dance with you.” He sets his mouth into a hard line.
I’m getting the impression this is more because for some reason he doesn’t want me here talking to Denny anymore, and not that he actually does want to dance with me.
“Just dance with him and get it over with, Tru,” Denny chuckles. “He won’t let up until he gets his own way.”
Denny gives Jake an amused look as he takes a swig of his beer, and I feel like I’m missing out on the something that passes between them.
“Fine,” I sigh loudly, putting my beer down on the table. “But if I can’t walk later because these heels have shredded my feet, then you’re carrying me back to the hotel.”
“Deal,” he smiles a winning smile. It irks me some. Well quite a bit actually.
Denny shuffles out of the booth we’re sitting in, letting me out. The instant I stand up my feet start to hurt in these goddamn shoes.
Jake takes hold of my hand and starts to lead me off but it’s hurting to walk.
“Actually, hang on,” I say to Jake, stopping. Keeping steady on his hand, I pull my shoes off with the other.
I toss them onto the seat beside Denny. “Look after these for me.”
As I turn back, Jake’s looking at me like he doesn’t actually know what to do with me right now. Like he’s never seen a woman take her shoes off in a club before.
I bet women have taken off more than just their shoes in a club for him; actually maybe their shoes were the one thing that did stay on, maybe that’s what’s freaking him out.
And with that thought in mind, I walk past him, bare foot, and a smirk on my face. “You coming or what?”
“These floors are gross you know,” he says falling into step beside me. “Beer, gum, puke…”
“You want me to dance with you, this is how you’re getting me.”
“With puke covered feet?”
“Uh huh.” I glance up at him, a grin in my eyes.
“Whatever way I can get you, Tru,” he murmurs.
I don’t look at him … can’t look at him.
I’m not sure whether he meant me to hear that comment in the noise of the music or not, so for now I’m pretending I didn’t.
He takes hold of my hand again and veers off, leading me away from the tiny VIP dance floor, and down the stairs, leading us straight toward the main dance floor downstairs.
This is more like it.
I look over my shoulder and see Dave shaking his head, looking exasperated, following quickly in our wake. I’m guessing Jake pulls this stuff on a regular basis. It must frustrate Dave that Jake doesn’t count his personal safety as something high on his list. Makes his job a lot harder.
And in this moment he reminds me of the rebellious teenager he used to be. The rebellious teenagers we used to be together.
Before he left me behind.
I tread carefully down the stairs behind Jake, regretting leaving my shoes now, in case of broken glass or getting my toes trodden on. But as we move downwards, heading into the masses, Jake doesn’t have to push his way through the people crowding the stairs. They just seem to automatically move for him, like he’s commanding them to with his sheer presence alone.
It’s a lot weird, and also a little awesome.
And at least there is also no danger of anyone getting close enough to tread on my feet.
“You’re short without your heels on,” he says, turning to me, as he hits the bottom step, leaving us a little closer to eye level.
“Yeah and you’re a selfish prick.”
Whoa! Where the hell did that come from, Tru?
“What?” He looks taken aback and pissed off.
Can’t say I blame him really.
But if I’m being honest, I know where that came from. I’m a little angry with him. I’ve felt it simmering away under the surface all night. It started back at the show at the serenade.
The moment he started singing to me I felt a huge, heady mixture of lust and anger, and it lanced through me and straight in his direction.
Okay, so if I’m going with total honesty here … I’m pissed at him because he’s made me want him tonight.
And I don’t just mean I want in his pants. I mean I want him - want him. I want him to be mine.
I know it’s stupid and irrational, and I’m with Will, but I can’t help the way I feel.
He’s Jake.
I’ve loved him for a long time. But this, here now, what I feel inside for him … it’s like a fire is burning inside me, and I don’t foresee a way to put it out anytime soon.
And I’m not exactly in a position to be able to douse that fire named Jake.
I’m also currently in a position where I have to spend an inordinate amount of time with him. A position he put me in.
It’s the worst kind of torture.
So yeah, I’m feeling a little pissed at him, and for some reason it’s decided to make an appearance now, here on the steps of this club, surrounded by hundreds of people.
It’s just … he serenaded me for God’s sake! How the hell am I supposed to recover from that?
“You heard,” I say standing tall. “You serenaded, and outed me in front of two hundred people.”
“Outed you?” he gives an amused look, but I can tell behind the fa?ade, he’s still a little pissed off.
Of course it only manages to annoy further.
“You told everyone my name and I like my anonymity, Jake, and not to become the subject of your groupies hate chat.”
“Okay…”
“And you sang a song like ‘Through It All’ to me.”
He looks at me puzzled. “But I thought you liked the song? You said it’s your favourite out of all the songs I’ve ever written.”
“It is, and I do love it. But that’s not the point. It’s an inappropriate song to sing it to me – I have a boyfriend.”
He steps back a little and a tiny frown sets on his face. “It’s not like I was dry humping you on stage, Tru.”
“I know but–”
“Of course it can be arranged if you want. I’ll be only more than happy to dry hump you on stage, or in private, you know whatever suits, just let me know.”
And there he is. It’s like a bloody affliction with him.
“Arrghh! Stop with the constant flirting!” I put my hand to my head frustrated.
He frowns for real now. “The flirting bothers you?”
“Yes!”
“I thought you liked it.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Okay.” He scrunches his brow up. “Look, song and flirting aside.” He steps closer to me. It muggy’s my thoughts up. “Have I done something else to upset you, Tru?”
Yes, you’ve made it almost impossible for me to not want you. And now I’m confused and wanting you, and worried if I dance with you that I might do something stupid, like make a move on you, and ruin our friendship when you of course reject me, and I’ll also quite possibly screw things with Will up.
“No.”
“So why the theatrics?”
It’s my turn to frown. “I’m not being dramatic! I just didn’t want to dance with you because my feet are hurting from my shoes and you wouldn’t listen to me, and you all but forced me into it!”
He looks confused now. To be honest I’m a little confused as to where I’m going with this myself.
It’s like I’m desperately throwing mud at him waiting for some to stick.
I want him to fight with me. But he just won’t.
“Okay, I’m sorry. We won’t dance.” He lifts his hands in surrender, looking all wounded and moves to walk back up the stairs past me.
Oh God! Now I feel all bad for projecting my own feelings onto him, and blaming him for just being himself.
I’m such a bitch.
I catch hold of his hand as he’s passing, bringing him to a stop beside me. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He stares at me, saying nothing and I feel compelled to keep talking, to explain my behaviour.
“I’m just tired and ratty, and I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them. I’m just being a bitch. Forgive me?”
His eyes soften. “You’re forgiven. Like I could ever stay mad at you.” He cups my chin with his other hand and kisses my cheek. “Look if you’re tired we can go back to the hotel and go to bed?” he says into my ear, his hot breathe tickling the skin on my neck, and other far off, unreachable places.
Go to bed? Okay, as inviting at that is it’s probably not the best idea, because my belly is pooling warm with the way you feel on my skin right now.
“No, we’ll dance. I mean my feet are already covered in nightclub crap … puke,” I smile. “Come on.”
He smiles back at me, and it’s beautiful. He looks so very beautiful. And all kinds of wrong.
My heart climbs out of my chest and sneaks into his, nestling in for the night.
Beyoncé’s, ‘Sweet Dreams’ start to pump out of the speakers and in this moment, I know I’m in trouble, but even still, it doesn’t stop me from leading him onto the dance floor.
All eyes are on Jake and me. This is how it always is around him. And to be honest in this moment, I like it.
I like that every women in this club is wishing she were me right now.
Jake grabs my hips and pulls me close to him. Staring down into my eyes, he starts to move me in time with him, and the people around us just melt away.
All I can do is stare up at him, trapped in his thrall, completely helpless as he moves my body with his.
Jake can dance. And I mean really dance. Sexy, sensual every move he makes with me, for me, is like he’s caressing me, heightening my senses to him.
If he can move like this on the dance floor, then I can only imagine how good he is in bed.
An image of me in bed with Jake flickers through my mind. So vivid that I feel lost in it. Lost in him. Too him. Consumed and totally intoxicated.
I feel reckless. Heedless. Like I could do anything … want to do anything, with him, right here and now.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask, forcing my voice to work, as I try to focus my mind on anything but the feel of his body pressed up against mine, as Beyoncé’s vocals continue to aid my mental and physical assault over my need for Jake.
“The Bedroom.”
Bedroom. Bed. Jake in my bed. Naked.
Focus Tru, focus.
“Is that a dance school?”
I really couldn’t imagine Jake going to dance class; it doesn’t really fit with him.
“No, Tru.” He stares down at me, blue eyes piercing. “In. The. Bedroom.”
“Oh.”
Oh crap.
I gulp down.
“There’s no real difference between having sex and dancing.” He runs his hand up my arm, slowly, deliberately, until it’s cupping my shoulder. He starts to rub his thumb over my skin. It hums wherever he touches.
“N-no?” I stammer.
I mean what else can I say? I’m kind of having a pretty hard time concentrating right now.
“No.” He presses his delicious lips together and slowly shakes his head. He hasn’t taken his eyes off mine yet. And I suddenly feel naked, so very naked.
“It’s just unfortunate you have to keep your clothes on for one of them.”
“Um … well, naked dancing here might attract some stares, Jake,” I manage out.
I’m trying to remain calm, but my heart has exited on me, my legs are trembling and every sense in me has headed somewhere South.
Jake leans in close, cupping the back of my neck with his hand, his lips brush over my ear as he whispers, “And that’s why I prefer to dance in the bedroom.”
Holy shit.
He leans back and stares down at me, and then I suddenly see it there in his eyes, unconcealed.
The lust. The want. He wants me. He’s trying to seduce me.
I’m so completely f*cked.
And now I’m left wondering how I never saw it before.
I’ve obviously been missing it all along. The flirting – not so innocent after all. The electrical charge I felt for him earlier – maybe not so one-sided. The serenade. Sitting close to me in the car. The lack, or actual non-existence of other women in Jake’s life since I’ve been back in it.
It’s like all of my lights have turned on at once.
My head compounds, and my stomach tightens into a thousand tight, but very delicious knots.
And I’m here gazing back at him like a rabbit mesmerised by a beautiful cobra, and any minute he’s going to strike and I’m done for.
Jake lets his hands drift back down to my hips, then he takes hold of my hand and spins me around, putting my back flush with his chest.
His large hands span my waist holding me firm against him.
And I’m trying to pretend I don’t feel him getting hard against my ass.
It’s not going so well. I’m starting to lose any rationality I may have had.
I want him. I want him so badly. I’ve never wanted someone, as much as I do him, now.
So much so, that I’m actually trying to figure out some way to have sex with Jake without it actually counting as cheating on Will.
Currently I’ve come up with the different time zone theory.
Okay, so I never said it was a good theory.
Then before I know I’m doing it, I’m moving slowly down his body, bending my knees, keeping my back flush with him, my hands feeling their way down his sides. Then I’m very slowly moving back up again.
I’m putting it down to the alcohol that I suddenly think I’m sexy and could ever pull off a move like this.
When I’m back to height, I rest my head against his chest, sliding my hands around him, holding him to me, pressing my ass against him.
I can feel his heart hammering in his chest. It makes me feel heady and like I’m suddenly in control here. I feel like I have control over Jake. It’s an insanely good feeling. Maybe sexy Tru knows what’s she’s doing after all.
Jake suddenly grasps hold of my shoulders spinning me around to face him.
His eyes are smouldering. His look is dark, and inviting.
I want him to kiss me.
No I don’t. Yes, I do.
His hand goes to the small of my back, his other around the nape of my neck, his thumb resting lightly against my throat. And we are close. Dangerously close. Our faces inches apart, as he moves us both to the music again.
My breathing has hitched up, and so has his.
Jake – a sweet dream? Or a beautiful nightmare?
Which one Tru?
A beautiful nightmare. This is Jake. This is what he does with women. It’s his MO.
Don’t screw things up with Will for one night with Jake.
Finally sense grabs hold of me. I step back from him, freeing myself from his thrall.
He stares at me wanting, confused, disappointed.
“Toilet,” I say breathless. “I need the toilet.” Then I turn on my bare heel and swiftly move through the parting crowd, heading straight for the ladies.
I lock myself in the cubicle and sit down on the toilet.
What the hell am I doing? I was so ready to kiss him then. Kiss Jake and more.
Shit.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I think I’ve just had way too much to drink tonight and I was letting myself fall into something which felt altogether too good, but is so very wrong.
Jake’s – Jake. He’s a rock star and as hot as hell – smoking in fact.
But he’s also a womaniser. This is what he does.
I can’t lose my sense around him again. I can’t let myself become just another name in his long list of conquests.
I have too much to lose if I do.
I use the toilet, wash my hands, cool my face with the water, then with a clear straight head, I make my way back to our table in the VIP lounge.
Jake is already there sitting with the guys, and also the girl Tom has acquired for the night.
He looks up at my approach and the second my eyes meet with his, whatever sense I had just talked myself into, packs its bags and f*cks off, leaving me to the mercy of my hormones.
The booth is full. Jake shuffles over, giving me a sliver of room to sit on, and also forcing me to sit next to him.
He puts his arm around the back of the seat, behind me. My thigh is pressed up tight against his.
“Alright?” he asks me quietly.
I nod, yes, briefly meeting his eye.
He passes me a fresh beer. My fingers touch his and a charge flies through my hand and up my arm.
“I thought we could have one more then head back to the hotel,” Jake says quietly to me.
“Ahum,” nodding, I take a mouthful of my beer.
He moves his hand down, and then I feel his thumb start to gently stroke the bare skin on my back.
It feels intimate. So totally intimate, and that’s because it is.
I chug harder on my beer.
In the irony right now wishing I was sober so I could think clearer in this situation, and how exactly to extract myself from it.
No, I’ll rephrase that – figure out how to want to extract myself from it.
My head and heart are not matching at the moment, and my hormones are raging a war all on their own.
Continuing to sip on my beer, I listen to the guys talk, but I really can’t focus. All I can focus on is Jake’s thumb, gently stroking that one small part of my body.
It’s like everything has homed in on this one small area. I’m heated. My skin is humming, buzzing under his touch.
I put my beer down on the table, and bind my hands together in my lap.
Focus. I just need to focus.
Then Jake put his hand under the table. He pushes his fingers in-between my palms, forcing my hands apart and takes hold of my hand.
Jake often holds my hand, that’s nothing new, but this time it’s different. There’s a different meaning there. Or was it there all the other times too?
I don’t know, but what I do know now, is that this feels like he’s staking a claim on me.
And I like the feeling. I want to be his.
He slides his fingers in-between mine, entwining our hands like lovers would, and rests our bound hands onto his hard thigh.
I could try to pretend his touch on my back was nothing. But not this.
I look across at him.
He stares back at me steadily, for a long moment before looking away, but I read his eyes clearly.
He wants me tonight.
And from what my eyes where saying back to him, I think I just said yes.
The Mighty Storm
Samantha Towle's books
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