I shrug and take a bite. “I guess we have different definitions of need.”
“Don’t not eat, Drew.”
The bite slides down my throat. “Fine.”
“And I do care about you, but it’s best if we don’t complicate things.”
I cough on a bite of food. “Complicate things?” I speak with my mouth full. “There’s nothing more complicated than our… our arrangement, and this alternate reality you live in. I’m trying to figure out my place. Are people supposed to know I’m with you?”
“So why make it worse? Seems it’s complicated as is.”
I continue chewing, irritated he won’t give me answers. Jesse doesn’t mind my interrupting, his brush strokes constant as he scrutinizes every stroke. He’s painting a smile on a small child—a toddler. The teeth are spaced apart and small, and there’s a dimple on one side. “Who are you painting?” I ask, absentmindedly. That’s what anyone would ask, and I find myself becoming comfortable around this man. I like when he paints faces instead of words. It lends to his humanity. Not every aspect of his being is dark and haunted.
“No one,” he replies. “A reminder of my intentions.”
A confusing statement, but still something.“Are we together then?”
He glances at me. “How would you answer that?”
“What are the rules? I don’t know who I’m supposed to be! Your girlfriend? Your house cleaner and part time waitress? You buy me clothes and vow to protect me, and I still don’t know why.” I push the plate away, appetite all but forgotten. “Riley shares things with me. He’s not setting me up for failure. He reserves a place for me and reminds me it’s there if Iwantto take it.”
Jesse raises one brow. “It’s like that, is it? Here’s the first rule. Riley is who he is and I’m who I am. Do not compare us.” Brush and easel in hand, he walks up to where I’m standing, to loom over me. His darkness sweeping me like a chilling hug. “Got it?” Threat looms large in the last two words. “You were a house cleaner and a waitress because I wasn’t sure what you were capable of or wanted to do. You are my girlfriend, and tonight you’re onlymine.”Jesse tilts his head to one side. “Don’t speak his name. I’m sure he’s already left his mark on your body, I don’t want his name on your lips, too.”
Breath doesn’t come easy when he’s like this. When his words hold malice, and the jealousy seeps into his actions. This is the man who kills grannies and blows up apartment buildings. Don’t I like that about him? I exhale. “I’m sorry.” I apologize again, softer. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” I look at a paint splatter on the floor. It’s the same white shade the toddler’s teeth are, and I wonder who he is again. Jesse isn’t an open book, and prying sets me further back.
“There’s no Riley without me. Remember that,” Jesse hisses, abs flexing as he breathes heavily. His eyes look haunted, like sleep eluded him last night.
“I understand,” I whisper. He takes my face in his hand and he kisses me. With the hand that holds the brush, he pulls me against his body. I taste it, then. The drug. The familiarity. The sinking feeling that hits me like a kind of sedation I crave. Being with a man who understands where I came from, and what I want. That’s the thing when I’m with Jesse. I don’t think of Riley. There isn’t guilt, because somewhere inside, I know I belong with a man like Jesse. One who controls me and tells me how to act and what to say. He is my dirty match. A partner who could be an equal regardless of who he is now. We are all the people who we once were, just covered in a veil of time and money. He knows what it means to be imperfect.
His kiss is hurried, like he needs it to survive. “Tell me, did you like fuckinghim?”
A tiny, surprised squeak slips past my mouth. “What do you want me to say?” I ask, pulling his bottom lip in between my teeth. “Do you want me to tell you every detail? Do you want to know what he said to me? The way he touched me. What it felt like? What do you want me to say, Jesse?” My heart is hammering. Not because I’m frightened, because I’m turned on.
“Are you finished eating?” he asks.
I nod.
“Take off your fucking clothes.”
Chapter Twelve
Drew
“Tell me where he didn’t touch,” Jesse says, watching as I unzip my skirt and step out of it. I’m breathing heavy, undressing all of a sudden, a task that takes concentration. My mind races, trying to be compliant and smart, but while also being horny at the same time. He misreads my face and adds, “Do not feel shame. He got you first, I want what’s left.”
I panic. Where did Riley not touch me? He consumed every goddamn cell if I’m being perfectly honest. I unsnap my bra and slide my panties off. “My back,” I say, voice shaking. I remember the leather bench. I remember his true desires. “And I mean that in all senses,” I whisper. I spin so I don’t have to face him.
“I won’t ask if you’re sore because I know you are, so tell me how sore.”
At the mention, my core throbs from Riley’s visit. Clenches with need. “Sore enough,” I say.
Jesse drags the paintbrush down my spine stopping at the top of my ass. The sensation sends chill bumps across my skin.
“But not sore here,” he says, stroking the brush over each ass cheek separately.
I shake my head, unable to speak. I thought housecleaning was hard. Keeping up with two men’s sexual appetites is going to be the biggest challenge of my life. I remind myself that Riley is leaving, and I’ll be here with Jesse alone. Is that purposeful? Jesse seems to be the jealous one. Riley tells me to give Jesse what he wants. Like he knows Jesse is the weaker link in our relationships. I hear him set the brush and easel down on the small cart he uses to mix paints. Then he spins me around and keeps his hands on my shoulders.
“Your ass is mine,” Jesse growls. His hands contradict the feral look in his eye. The one that actually tells me something. He’s turned on and wants to use my body. His touch though, it’s soft. A concession for what he’s going to do to me.