Keeping Jahleel (Loving All Wrong #1.5) (23 page)

A horrible feeling. Horrible.

Ashley’s head moved up and down, evoking quiet moans from Jahleel.

A lone tear crept down my cheek, and Jahleel turned his head to look over at me right then. As if he felt the tear.

Something resembling pain flashed across his face, and for a second, he seemed hesitant, his mouth opening as if to say something to me. But then the moment past, and he closed his eyes, shook his head once, then reopened them and fixed his attention on Ashley. He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger and began whispering words to her, spurring her on.

“You’re fuckin’ pretty, you know that?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Like that.”

“Do that again, sweet girl.”

“You got the sexiest fuckin’ lips.”

“Yeah, Ashley, you’re all that.”

By this time, big, fat tears were escaping. Jahleel didn’t speak like that
during
sex. He was serious about fucking, and being constantly vocal wasn’t his thing. So either this girl was good enough to suck him to a place he’d never been before, or he was doing it on purpose to hurt me more.

This was painful. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch anymore.

But I also couldn’t leave. So I pulled up my feet into the arm chair, drew my knees to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. Squeezing my eyes shut, I buried my face between my knees.

He could force me to stay in the room, but he couldn’t force me to keep my eyes open and watch. Even though hearing was just as awful as watching.

Abruptly, I heard a, “Get out.”

“What?” Ashley’s voice asked, stricken with disbelief and disappointment.

This had me opening my eyes to see Jahleel zipping up his jeans, his stare locked on me, pain and contrition swirling in his golden debts.

“Get the fuck out,” he reiterated to Ashley. “We’re done here. Tell Thomas to take you home.”

“But—”

“Ashley, girl, you’ve been on my good side all night,” he said impatiently. “My bad side, you don’t wanna be on it. Trust me. Just go. “

My heart propped up in a hopeful pose, even as the tears deluged.

Ashley huffed, shot me an
I-so-fucking-hate-you
glare, then stormed out of the room.

Jahleel moved to close the door behind her, then he disappeared into the bathroom.

Tap water running.

Mouthwash gurgling.

Timberlands against the floor tiles.

His half-dressed body emerged from the bathroom and took quick, long strides over to me. Pulling my arms from around my knees, he scooped me up from the armchair and headed for the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t, Sassy. I can’t watch you hurt. I can’t hurt you. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

And that’s when I really started crying. Fat, ugly, River Nile tears. Whimpering and hiccups.

Jahleel lowered me down on the bed and went straight to unzipping my jeans, hauling them off along with my knickers, all the while repeating, “I’m sorry” over and over. While I ugly-cried harder with each apology.

Loudly.

Parting my legs, he peppered my inner thighs with hot kisses, dropping an apology between each one.

Then he was licking me, sucking me, eating me.

And as fucking amazing as his mouth felt on me, it didn’t quell the tears.

I couldn’t stop crying.

I cried even as the familiar tingle shot up the back of my knees. I cried even as my legs began to tremble. I cried even as my fingers curled tightly into his hair. As my body stiffened. As my hips shot up off the bed in an electrifying jolt. As my orgasm ripped me apart. I cried through it all.

I bawled and I wailed and I whimpered.

Jahleel crawled up on top of me, his face twisted in agony as though he was going to die from my pain. “Please stop crying, Sassy. I love you. I do. I never stopped. I forgive you. I’ll take you back. I’ll marry you. I’ll knock you up. Just…stop crying. It hurts so bad to see you hurt. It fuckin’ hurts. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

But I couldn’t. Not that I didn’t want to, but the tears were coming of their own accord. I couldn’t control them. When I tried to stop, I would hiccup, then start all over again. It was three months and two weeks’ worth of tears. So I had to let them run.

They were good tears. Bad tears. Apologetic tears.

Good, because I was getting my fiancé back. Bad, for all I had to witness. And apologetic, for disappointing him, almost ruining everything we had.

Helpless to stop my tears, Jahleel dropped his face in the crook of my neck and waited with me, assuring me he loved me. My body rattled with sobs beneath him.

We waited.

Waited for all the bad and the ugly to seep out, and for love to prevail.

Eventually, the sobs ceased.

I breathed evenly into the crook of his neck as he breathed into mine, our limbs relaxed, our hearts beating in unison.

Miguel’s
Adorn
poured out in smooth waves through the surround speakers, floating around us, calming us.

When my body started going numb because of Jahleel’s weight, I reluctantly pushed at his chest. “Roll over. You’re crushing me.”

With an audible sigh, he moved onto his side, but drew me up to him so we were facing each other. “You hate me?”

Guilt-stricken, I shifted my gaze from his. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that I was the one who messed up yet he was the one suffering compunction.

When there came no response, he released me and rolled onto his back, then scrubbed his hands down his face. “You can’t even look at me…
I’m so sorry
.”

This wasn’t right.

I moved, draping my upper half over his hard chest. Finding his golden gaze, I whispered hoarsely, “No. No, JK. I fucked up. Not you. You’re the one who got hurt. You did nothing but love me and keep your promises.
I’m
sorry, JK.”

With a downhearted expression, he watched me, his brows drawn low. “Back in that hotel room, I was rough and mean to you…” His warm hand cupped one side of my face. “I apologize for all of it. For my anger. I hated hurting you, Saskia. ‘Cause when you hurt, I hurt. I can’t help it. We’re too connected. I’m too in love with you. I feel what you feel.”

I smiled, though it was sad. “I believe you.”

“Not gonna lie and say I’m over the shit that went down, Sassy. That’ll take some time. Those images are gonna be in my head for a long time, maybe forever.”

At that, I released a long, soul-twisting breath. What had I done to us?

Jahleel continued before I could start crying again. “But every relationship has their flaws. This is our flaw. This is something I’ll have to love you through. We won’t be the only couple on earth with a rift in our love. A lot of relationships seems perfect from the outside lookin’ in.

“But it’s a lie. No relationship is perfect. There’s always an ugly story swept under a rug of happy pictures and smiles. ‘Cause when you find
the one
, it’s just too fuckin’ hard to give them up, no matter the pain, no matter the shame, no matter the cost. So we have to patch up that fuckin’ rift, and love with a broken love. And it will challenge us to love harder, stronger, with more faith. Love fierce enough to overcast that rift, to make sure it never breaks open again.

“And I love you now more than I did before, Sassy. Because I’ve gotten a bitter taste of what life without you is like. It’s fuckin’ miserable. You are my light. You are my world. I’ve never truly smiled until you. Never truly laughed until you. Never truly lived until you. Never truly loved until you. And I don’t ever wanna lose you. I don’t wanna know the future without you in it. You are mine. Do you believe me?”

Tears were streaming half-way through. But happy tears this time. No mixture. Just tears of bliss. Because my life was back. My world was right again. Those golden eyes were glowing with love again. His touch was warm again. He was mine again.

“I believe you,” I whispered.

When he leaned up on his elbows to look down at me, his eyes were passive. Completely passive. He was so damn vulnerable right now, baring himself to me, hiding nothing, giving me everything.

He loved me. Unequivocally. It was all there. Unconcealed.

Jahleel Kingston loved me.

“Now’s the time, Sassy,” he said, ever so softly. “You agree?”

Momentarily thrown, it took me a minute to catch on. When understanding dawned, I grinned. Delirious with happiness.

Now.

Now was the time.

“Yes. I agree.”

The smile he gave me was so blinding, it was as if all his other smiles before now had been fake and this was his first real, genuine smile. “The gazebo? Yeah, I say the gazebo.”

“It doesn’t matter where, JK.” My voice was hoarse from crying so much, and my cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. “As long as you’re there.”

“Perfect.” He moved to get up from the bed. “Gonna call Dad.”

“Wait.” I gripped on to his bicep to stop him. “Can we do the last part first?”

“Fuck?”

My expression to that made him chuckle, then corrected, “Er, I mean, consummate?”

I rolled my eyes. “I prefer the term ‘make love.’”

Laughing, he got up, then leaned down and lifted me from the bed. He threw me over his shoulder and I let out a squeal at the suddenness of it. “‘Kay. But let’s do it in the shower. I have ugly tears and some pretty nurse girl named Ashley all over me.”

With a growl, I sank my fingernails into his skin and he yelped.

He was still an arsehole.

“W
ould you like to exchange vows?”

Mr. Kingston, though called upon at short notice, had arrived half-an-hour ago both with disapproval that we wanted to do this in secret, and with pleasure that he was the one called upon to bind us.

Jahleel and I sat cross-legged on a thick blanket in the gazebo outside, facing each other, hand in hand. While Mr. Kingston hovered above us.

While I was in pajamas, Jahleel was barefooted in a normal sweats and T-shirt. Raw, just as we were. No one but us—and the pastor, of course. Who was also Jahleel’s father.

The night was quiet. And the temperature was just right: not too chilly, not too warm. A full gray moon. Constellations out glistening. Not a single one hidden.

It was the perfect night. With the perfect man. The perfect union.

It was time to close the old book and start a sequel.

At the mention of vows, though, I winced. Because I had none prepared. Who knew we’d be getting married immediately after reconciling?

“Um…”

“Hurts that you got nothing to say to me right now,” Jahleel said with mock offense, peering at me under his lashes.

Letting go of his hand, I retrieved his ring from the throw-pillow between us, on which both our rings sat, then slid it onto his finger. “I’m no Shakespeare or Jane Austen. All I know is this: I love you. And if I lose you again, Jahleel Kingston, I swear to God I’ll die. My strength is all used up, so this ring means I’m leaning on you. You’re my fulcrum.

“I’m leaning on you to get through the bad times, the sad times, the sick times, the storms and the quakes. Because you are my everything, I’m leaning on you for everything. You were my dream, then you came true. I wished to be your girl, and it came true. Then I wished to be your wife someday…” I paused to flash him a grin. “Apparently someday is right this moment. Now, I’m squeezing in another wish: to live a hundred years and day with you. I love you, JK. You are my life. Where you end, I end.”