She nodded.
“And you probably saw that shit stir up when I had my pathetic fucking break down in the parking lot.”
“It’s okay—”
“No. Listen. I always need narcotics when it hits that hard. Smack, blow, pills, weed, any or all of it. Every. Fucking. Time. And even then, it takes me hours to resurface.”
His words squeezed her heart.
“Today, I was so damn crazed to get back to you, I shut it down in record time. Without drugs. Know what that means?”
She had watched him shatter twice that day. Both times he picked up the pieces and put himself back together. “You fixed it. Not drugs. Not me.”
“You’re wrong. It’s you. You make me want to rake up the shit just to dissect it. Figure out what I’m made of, what I’m not, and who I am.” A dimple flashed on his cheek, its appearance endearing him all the more. “Got to say, Charlee, that’s an undertaking I’ve never cared to attempt. You make me want to care about a lot of things.”
Intensity saturated his brown eyes. He appeared completely unconcerned about the presence of Nathan and the others listening in, until he touched his mouth to her ear. “More than anything, I want to learn how to bend to your touch without breaking.” He stroked his cheek along hers, the rise and fall of his chest intoxicating her. “I want you to touch me inside and out.” He straightened to look at her.
The heat from his words left her breathless.
He squeezed their hands at her back. “You saw strength in me once. Do you think you could find it again?”
He was a man like any other man, draped in a net of memories. But it seemed like his memories were suffocating him, as if his scars whispered and burned and tried to dominate his life. Only the man trapped beneath could do something about that.
“You stood up to Roy. You called him a fucking prick.” She let out a laughing snort. “Do you know how many times I’ve witnessed someone confront him?”
The skin around his mouth softened, giving him a gorgeously exposed look. He shook his head.
“None. Never.”
She fell into the deep waters of his eyes. They held the opening between her past and future. “To answer your question…for two years and two months, I stared at the Golden Gate Bridge from Roy’s penthouse window. I watched it weather the strongest storms, rise above the thickest fogs, and buttress countless commuters with unbending steel. I used to fantasize that one day, it might carry me to a place Roy couldn’t touch me.” She held his gaze. “When I look at you, I see that bridge.”
His lashes lowered, fanning his cheeks. Holding her hands at her back, he curled his upper body around her and spoke low into her ear. “Then I promise not to buckle beneath you.”
43
Charlee followed Jay up the portable airstair to the door of the rented jet. The exhausts of shuttle buses, private planes, and fuel trucks added to the heat wafting off the tarmac.
Could one of the bustling vehicles have a Craig in it? Not that she was in a position to notice something like that. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the black leather stretching over the back of Jay’s thighs and cupping his ass with each lift of his muscled legs.
As he cleared the last step, he glanced over his shoulder and winked. “Like what you see?”
She pulled her lips between her teeth to suppress a grin. “You know I do, you arrogant ass.” She nodded to the oval doorway in front of him. “Watch your head. It might be too swollen to fit through.”
Turning toward her, he looked pointedly at his groin and pursed his lips. “You might be right.”
Warmth spread across her chest and threatened to reduce her to girlish laughter. She filled her lungs with the dusk air and anchored herself to his beautiful smile. She hadn’t been this relaxed in…well, never. If only she could tuck the feeling away in a place no one could steal it.
He squatted to eye-level and she felt his gaze in the spike of her pulse and the sudden desert in her mouth. He leaned in. “Keep looking at me like that and we’re going to spend the next six hours in the lavatory.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Actually, I think we’ll do that anyway.”
A shiver swept through her and her hand faltered on the railing. “Is the rest of the band onboard? I thought these jets had bedrooms.”
His head dropped and he groaned. “Fuck, Charlee.” He scrubbed a hand over his scalp, mussing the thick strands. “Yes, the guys are boarded.” He looked up at her out of smoldering eyes. “You can count on a bedroom in all our future rentals.”
They were staring at one another, ensconced in their own cosmos, when Tony’s voice floated up from the tarmac. “We’re on a schedule, Mr. Mayard.”