The Mighty Storm (25 page)

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 façade, 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 fucked.

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.