Steel My Heart (9 page)

Chapter 17

Emmy

"First you gotta plant your feet. Like this, see?"

I spread my feet in the soft grass, trying to imitate J.'s pose, feeling ridiculous while doing so.

"No, not all rocked to the side like that, see?" He nudged me on the shoulder and I lost my balance, stepping heavily to one side. "See that? I barely touched you and you went down."

"I didn't go
down
," I pouted. "I just stumbled."

J. looked at me, face suddenly serious. "And you stumble in a fight, you're a goner."

I pressed my lips together to hold back the sarcastic remarks. When was I ever going to be in a fight? I'm not a fighter. This was a waste of what little time we had together. The energy that had propelled me out of the house this morning was starting to ebb. I wanted to lie down and look at the clouds, with my head on J.'s shoulder. I wanted him to kiss me again and again and listen while I talked about happy, funny things. Things that ignored the darkness inside of me. I wanted him to go back to leaving me be. I didn't want him to care so much.

"You payin' attention?" The note of annoyance in his voice snapped me back to reality. We were on the grassy lawn in front of the Art Museum. Children splashed in the fountain, screeching loudly. It did nothing for my composure.

"Yeah I am," I grumbled. "Plant my feet. How's this?"

He looked at me appraisingly. "Slide them out further. About this far apart." He slid his hands down to rest on my hips. My breath caught as he gently squeezed, cupping the ample flesh down there.

I blushed. "Stop it."

"Why?" He slid his hands up to the small of my back. A jolt of pure electricity shot up my spine at his touch.

"There are people," I protested. Someone would know me. Robert had a million friends in this city.

"Fuck 'em," he rasped, and his lips were on mine once again. He pulled me close to him, pressing himself into my stomach. "You know what you do to me?" he groaned into my mouth. "You feel that?"

I moaned as his tongue parted my lips. Resisting him took too much effort in the face of the onslaught of his desire. My body went limp in response even as my mind still screamed out warnings of being discovered. Kissing J. made me feel like I was ethereal, like something shimmering and intangible.

I felt like a million little minnows were swimming through my veins, little streaks of flashing silver. My pulse started to race and a low, throbbing note began to sound deep within me. With a wordless cry, I flung my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to me, pulling him closer, inviting him to touch me everywhere he could, right here on the lawn.

He suddenly pulled away with a hoarse moan and walked several paces away from me. I stood there frozen as he threaded his fingers together and planted them on top of his head. He was breathing hard, his broad shoulder rose and fell, spreading the patch on his vest wide across his well-muscled back. It felt like an hour passed by before he finally turned back to me.

"Thought you just needed a friend," he laughed grimly.

For once in my life, I spoke the first words that came to my head. I didn't calculate. I didn't weigh their consequences. I just said what I felt. "I think I just need you."

His face broke open into a wide, beaming smile, so beautiful it made me laugh to see it. My heart pounded in reaction to my boldness.

"Okay, girl, now pay attention," he barked, and widened his legs into fighting stance.

My head reeled. A minute ago he was kissing me as if his life depended on it. Now we were practicing again? My newfound boldness prodded me to speak up. "I don't want to fight. I want you to kiss me again."

"And I want you to look that fiancé of yours in the eye and tell him it's over." The emerald shards in his eyes blazed in fury that I knew wasn't directed at me.

I understood in an instant. He was frightened for me too. He wanted to do something to help. This is what he could do.

"Okay, hip-width apart, got it," I nodded.

He smiled at me. "Now, don't do anything with your hands yet. Put them on your hips."

I did as he asked. "I look like my mother," I remarked, catching a glimpse of my shadow.

"She yell a lot?"

"Not as much as my dad."

"Hmm," J looked like he wanted to ask more, but thought better of it. I was grateful. How many tragic stories could I burden him with in one day? "So now you can feel your hips. I want you to rock them back and forth."

"Like this?"

He laughed. "No, not like you're shaking your ass." He flashed a dimple. "Though, thank you for that."

"Shut up."

"No like this. Twist them." He twisted his hips back and forth, thrusting one forward, and then the next. The effect was hypnotic.

"Thanks for that," I echoed, my gaze falling to his crotch as he thrust.

He raised an eyebrow. "Damn, you're a little nasty, aren't you?"

"I'm not exactly sure," I confessed, twisting my hips like he was. Though I had to admit, moving that way in front of him did feel strangely electric.

"Okay!" He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Stop before you kill me. I'm only human." I immediately blushed and looked down, my heart nearly hammering out of my throat. "Emmy, stop that, you're gorgeous, own it." He was looking at me impatiently. I nodded my thanks, too flustered to speak.

"Now then, you got your feet planted, you got your hips loose. Now what I want you to do is hit me."

"What?" I threw up my hands in alarm. "I'm not going to do that!"

"I can take it, believe me," he prodded. "What you're going to do is make a fist, like this," he held up a huge hand and balled it up. "See how all my knuckles are at the same level? You don't want one sticking up above all the other ones." He formed my fist into an imitation of his. "Tuck your thumb down, you're gonna break it. Okay now." He stood back and turned to the side. I want you to punch me in the arm. When you throw the punch, twist your hips like we just practiced."

"Wait, I'm confused."

He turned back immediately and held up his fists. "Pull back on a twist, throw the punch on a twist. Back and forth." He demonstrated slowly, twisting his body in a fluid motion. It almost looked like dancing.

"Okay, I think I got it."

"Okay," he turned. "I'll count to three. On three, you hit me right here," he tapped his muscular bicep right where it was encased in his tight black t-shirt. "Aim carefully, please," he grimaced. "One, two...."

On three I let my fist fly. In spite of my careful aiming, it merely clipped him across the shoulder, missing its mark by a mile. "Are you okay?" I gasped.

"Did a mosquito just land on me?" He was laughing but his face was serious. "Twist your whole body into it. Follow through; don't stop short when you feel the contact. Think about punching
through
my arm."

I nodded and focused on the spot he had indicated. "One, two...three!" I counted and this time my fist connected solidly with his arm. The impact travelled back up my arm, and made my teeth clack together.

"Better!" he shouted.

"Are you still okay?" I marveled.

"I told you, I'm fine. You worry about landing three punches in the same place before you worry about me."

"Okay fine," I said and focused again. The summer sun shone off of his dark skin, revealing hidden layers to the deep, rich color. I saw browns and reds and deep blue-blacks all painted over the canvas of his skin. The muscles underneath revealed the hidden topography of him. I wanted to trail my fingernail down his bicep, tracing down to the valley of his forearm and let my lips follow suit.

Instead I punched him again.

He sucked in his breath. "Nice!" he hissed.

"I'm sorry!" I couldn't help it. It was ingrained in me to apologize.

"Shut up," he intoned. "Again."

I focused on that spot and hit him again.

"Okay!" he cried and walked away. "Time to switch arms."

"Did I really hurt you?" I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice.

"Getting hit three times in the same place will hurt anyone."

"Oh."

He caught the disappointment. "Yes Emmy, you hurt me."

I laughed and clutched at his hand. "Yay! I mean I'm sorry and all, but, yay!" And without hesitation I kissed him again.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world to press my lips to his. And when he caught my face in his hand to kiss me more deeply, I wondered if this was how it was supposed to feel. That sensation of falling and flying at the same time. I suddenly understood love songs.

He pulled back gently and brushed back my hair. "I'll take a couple more punches if it gets me more of that," he grinned.

The rest of the afternoon flew past far too quickly. I was aware of the swiftly moving sun even as J. taught me to block, to slip out of holds, to throw elbows. I was exhausted, and grass-stained, and sore by the time I finally called for mercy.

"I have to get back, J." The fear that his presence had tamped down flared back up again. "He doesn't like it when he comes home and I'm not there."

J. kissed me hard, bruising my lips and making me gasp. "I want to see you," he rasped.

"You will," I promised and once again I heard the truth in my words. I needed to see him again. If it meant I had to explode my life and run away, I would do it. Sammie would help me. J. would help me. I had people on my side. I smiled, feeling a blooming confidence that had withered for so long. "I'll see you really soon."

Chapter 18

Emmy

With every step I took away from J. my fear rose higher in my throat. I tasted the bright penny taste of panic on my tongue, spurring me to get back faster.

Bursting from the back of the cab, I flung a wad of cash at the driver and sprinted through the lobby to our elevator. Stabbing the button over and over only seemed to make it travel slower. "Shit, shit, shit," I chanted under my breath.

This was bad. I had forgotten myself in the thrill of J.'s lips on mine. I had forgotten how far down the rabbit hole I was with Robert. He had more power over me than I could possibly imagine. My home, my life, my future, they were all wrapped up in him. And he would punish me for this.

If he caught me.

The doors swooshed open after an interminable wait. As the car carried me swiftly to our penthouse twenty floors up, I balled my fists and rocked my hips. I found myself imitating the motions J. had taught me. I imagined my fist connecting solidly with flesh. With a face. A patrician face, with high cheekbones, topped with wavy, chestnut hair.

I shook my head as the doors dinged open into our living room. Those were dangerous thoughts. I wasn't a fighter. Fighting him would only end up hurting myself.

I stood in the center of the elevator, unwilling to step into the room. I didn't want to be here. I wanted it all to be gone. I wanted to have never met Robert. I wanted to be free to see J., to kiss him, to have him hold me, to explore that rock hard body, and see if I could make him smile that wide, beaming grin. I wanted to know about him, his life, what it meant to be a biker. I wanted to ride behind him with the wind whipping through my hair.

The elevator dinged and the doors began to close. Someone had called it back to the lobby.

I screamed and slithered through the closing gap just in time. The doors dinged closed. Robert was home.

I mounted our staircase at a dead run, stripping my clothes as I ran. Running into our room, I stuffed them deep into the back of my closet, hiding the grass stains and scent of another man. Then I jumped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as I could, filling the bathroom with steam so it looked like I had been in there forever. I hopped under the scalding water and scrubbed frantically at the dirt on my hands, dumping my body wash over me, hoping its floral scent would hide any traces of J. that still lingered.

I heard tread on the threshold. "Babe?" I called sweetly. "You're home?"

Robert rolled the shower door back and looked at me. The scalding water had pinkened my skin already and I was flushed even further with terror. I hoped the effect was believable.

"Did you just get up?" he asked, by way of greeting.

"Well," I ducked my head, playing embarrassed as I scrambled for an explanation. "No, not really." I squeezed my hair, ducking under the spray to buy time as I thought. "I only started feeling better this afternoon. So I wanted to be nice and clean for you when you got home."

He grinned crookedly, his devastatingly handsome face registering approval. "You're using the body wash I bought you," he observed.

I held it up in my hand. I hadn't meant to, the smell was overpoweringly floral. But he liked it, so it was the right move. "Yes, thank you again," I chirped.

He nodded. "Are you done?"

I had only just begun. "Um, I still have to wash my hair."

"You're done," he observed, and there was a note in his voice that made the copper taste flood my mouth once more.

"Okaaaay," I agreed, and switched off the water. "Can I have a towel?"

He grabbed a towel from the linen shelf and held it out in front of him. "Here."

I hesitated. "I'm all drippy, can you give it to me?"

"No, you come to me." His smile was playful, but his voice was not.

I stepped over the lip of the tub, crossing my arms over my chest and shivering. I hadn't turned the heat lamp on, and the air conditioning hit my damp skin with an arctic blast. I stepped towards him, naked and shivering and turned around so he could drape the towel over my shoulders.

Instead he wrapped me tightly, pinning me close to his chest. His strong arms pressed the air from my lungs. "Not so tight," I begged.

"You like it," he corrected me. He pressed me harder, crushing my arms painfully to my sides.

"Babe, that hurts!" I cried.

He squeezed tighter, pressing himself against me. I gasped in shock as I felt his desire press into my spine. "I want you," he rasped, his breath a ragged gasp in my ear.

This wasn't right. This was all wrong. "Can we go to the bed then?" I pleaded, my voice squeaky with the lack of breath. I could smell that floral scent on his skin. It was definitely perfume.

He flung one arm around my chest and I inhaled sharply, letting the air flood my lungs. There were spots dancing at the corners of my eyes and I felt woozy. I tried to step away from him, but he held me tightly. I could taste the smell of the other woman on my tongue.

Spinning us around so that we faced the mirror, he reached behind me. I saw my own eyes widen in shock as I heard the jungle of his belt buckle. "Not here honey, I'm all wet!" I begged again.

His only answer was a grunt. He shoved me forward and I flung my hands out to catch myself against the vanity. "Babe!" I begged. But his eyes were dark and his lips were twisted into a snarl reflected back at me in the mirror. I felt the first prodding poke, then the first painful thrust. He forced himself up inside of me, dry and uninvited. I was frozen in shock, biting my lip against the tearing of my delicate flesh.

He grabbed me around the throat in a choke hold and pushed higher inside me. I closed my eyes and willed myself far away. He had never done this before. This wasn't him. This was something else. He must still be punishing me for last night. That was it. He was giving me what I deserved for leaving him. He was telling me where I belonged. I felt something rip down there and blinding tears flooded my eyes.

"Look at yourself," he grunted in my ear. He squeezed my throat and my eyes flew open in alarm. Patrician, proper Robert was gone. I didn't know the man who spat and swore in my ear. "You see it? You see me fucking you?"

Unable to speak, I just nodded. His face was as dark as a storm cloud.

"Keep watching." He pushed himself high inside me, so far that I knew then and there he would break me in half if he could. His breath came faster as he held my face in place, forcing me to see how he had me trapped there, completely overpowered and at his mercy. He wrapped his other arm around my belly and grunted three times, as I finally felt his blessed release spurt inside of me.

It was over but he still held me firm, not pulling out, not pulling away. "Did you see it?" he prodded.

"I saw." He relaxed his grip on my neck and I gasped for air, rubbing the raw spot where he had held me.

"Little slut. You liked every minute of it. Tell me you liked it."

I looked at him in the mirror. He pulled away and grabbed a wad of toilet paper and dabbing at his cock fastidiously. When he saw I wasn't answering, he zipped his trousers back up again and traced a finger along my face. I shrank from his touch, but there was nowhere for me to run.

"You don't need to be wandering around town to get fucked like the fat whore that you are. I can do that for you right here at home." He leaned down and kissed my shoulder sweetly as a grin spread across his face. "Keep that in mind next time you want to leave in the middle of the night." He cupped my face in his hand and turned me to face him, squeezing my cheeks in painfully. Then he kissed me fully on the lips as I shook so hard my teeth chattered.