***
As soon as the living room lights came on, Starla surged upward to find her bra and shirt, unwilling for him to find her half-naked on his couch when he’d just turned her down. In fact, she was unwilling for him to find her on his couch at all, so she retreated to the bathroom to repair whatever damage that session had done to her hair and makeup.
It was okay. She understood, but she was disappointed all the same. Her mind and her body had been ready to spend the rest of the night in his bed. They’d been ready for more orgasms like that one. Many more. Now that his kids were coming, she’d be spending it at home, alone, with the leech in the next room. It would be all the worse if their own power was out. They didn’t have a generator. She knew better than to even ask if Jared would still be willing for her to spend the night with him now that his daughters were coming over.
She got it. She did. But still. Fuck. The man was so talented with his tongue. Her internal muscles quivered, ready for more, so much more. Her panties were wet from her own desire and from his mouth. The mirror showed her cheeks were flushed, her neck and chest splotchy. It was almost fucking embarrassing how much she wanted him, and she spent so much time splashing water on her face trying to cool off that he finally tapped on the door.
“Starla? You okay?”
No. She wasn’t. But she dried her face and opened the door anyway, unable to look up at him. She needed a cigarette. “Sorry, I know we need to go. Yeah, I’m fine.”
His knuckle nudged under her chin and lifted her face to his. As she was forced to meet his incredible, invading blue eyes, her knees almost gave out. “You are so beautiful, and I’m so sorry. I’ll make this up to you.”
“No,” she said, surprised at the note of desperate longing in her voice, unable to keep it out. “Don’t make it up to me. See me because you want to, not because you think you should.”
“If you think I don’t want to,” he rasped, “you haven’t been paying attention.” Then his mouth descended on hers, and she tasted herself, and her knees did give out.
Chapter Fourteen
He took her to Dermamania, where her car still waited in the parking lot, and kissed her good-bye until she almost staggered when she finally climbed down from his truck, knees still weak and rubbery from the strength of his lips. The storm had passed on, leaving puddles and a clean, summery scent in the air. Grinning like a fool, Starla slammed the door and waved, warmed on the inside when he didn’t drive away as she walked the short distance to her car.
So he was still there watching when she found the note clamped under her windshield wiper.
Only one word, stark black and ten feet tall on the white paper. WHORE. The ink had bled outward in the rainwater, but it was easily decipherable.
Jared was at her back before she even realized it, taking it from her as if he didn’t want her to be subjected to that word one second longer. The expression on his face could have been carved out of granite, hard and unforgiving. “Sonofabitch.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, hearing the hollow weakness in her voice. “He’s just—”
“Are you sure this is Max?” Jared demanded, folding the note and shoving it in his pocket.
“Who else would it be?”
“Isn’t Ghost mad at you for being with me?”
“Don’t even go there. He would never do this, no matter how mad he is. Really, Jared, I know him and this isn’t him. Max is just mad because…well, in his twisted mind, I’m fucking every guy in the shop. He said as much today before Brian ran him off.”
“And he came back.”
“I guess so.”
“It wasn’t long ago either. This paper is damp, but it isn’t soaked like it would’ve been if he’d left it before the storm came through. I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.” He cast a glance around at their surroundings. “He could still be here watching us right now.”
“I won’t be alone. I have—”
“Roommates you can’t stand to go home to.”
“What do you expect me to do? It’s fine. Leave it alone. He’s just being an asshole, and he’d never do anything at my house.”
“You probably thought he’d never cause a problem at work either.”
“Jared, it’s fine. I’m going home. I’m not going to let him scare me.”
“I’m following you.”
She scoffed to hide how relieved she was. “Okay, whatever.” The fact was, she was getting more scared with everything Max did. And she hated herself for ever letting him near her in the first place. The thought of him touching her with his callous indifference, so bent on his own gratification, after the respect and reverence Jared had given her tonight turned her stomach. Never again.
Never, ever again.
Even before he let her get in her car, he gave it a once-over. Tires were good, no maniac hiding in the backseat. Then he followed her, his headlights a comfort in her rearview, and waited at the curb in front of her house—it was all she could do to make him stay in his truck and not let him make a sweep of the place before she entered. After she waved at him from the living room window, he finally drove away. At least they still had power. Even better, Doug had apparently found someone to actually sleep with him, so he was staying at that poor soul’s place for the night. Julie was just going to bed, so Starla piled on the couch and continued the Twilight Zone marathon that had been so beautifully interrupted earlier. She’d never think of “The Purple Testament” the same way again. Despite the ugly note she’d found, she was able to fall asleep with a smile on her face.
But there was always tomorrow to face.
***
When she got to work at two, Brian’s truck was already there. She groaned out loud, having hoped he wasn’t planning to come in today—having to face him after that shit yesterday wasn’t an idea she relished. Sighing as she let herself in the side door, she figured he would be in his office—he was—and would call her in as she passed by—he didn’t. She didn’t know if she was more relieved or pissed off by that.
It was maybe a little premature to think she could possibly be moving on. This thing she’d had for Brian had gone on too strong for too long—one night of getting her pussy licked wouldn’t undo years of pain and frustration over that man. She knew that. And she shouldn’t be resentful it had gone on for so long. It wasn’t Brian’s fault she’d thrown away so much time on adoring him. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers. Her anger at everyone else was mostly a reflection of her anger at herself, she knew that. So she tried to remain pleasant, she tried to be nice. She chatted and did her work and even got along with Ghost. So it made her all the angrier when Brian caught her alone in the break room as she was getting coffee at the Keurig and opened with, “Why do I always feel like I need to ask you if you’re okay?”
What the fuck? Hadn’t she been acting okay? She didn’t look at him, focusing instead on stirring sugar into her cup. “I don’t know. Why do you?”
“Because you’re not okay, and I know it. I’ve always dumped my problems on you. Now you’re not returning the favor.”
“Brian…” Sighing, she stopped stirring and tossed the spoon into the sink, where it fell with a clatter. “Just leave it.” She was saying that too often lately.
“Fine.”
But he didn’t leave. She felt his presence lingering behind her. And lingering. And lingering.
Goddamn it. She faced him at last, leaving her cup untouched on the counter. “What does it matter?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise and then drew together. “The fuck you mean by that?”
“I’m always the one screwing up. I’m always the one who’s the walking fucking catastrophe around here. Getting shit on myself and everyone else, you said so yourself. So what surprise is it to any of you guys that I’ve finally gotten into something that’s over my head? You all knew it was coming.”
“We—or at least I—can help you if you’d just—”
“I don’t need or want your help. It’s one more debt I’ll owe you.”
“You don’t owe me shit. What the hell, where did all this come from?”
Starla rubbed her temples, where her pulse was beginning to throb. The words just came out. The words she’s been stewing over for weeks, the words hung up in her throat all this time… They just erupted. “I have to quit.”
Silence, absolute and postapocalyptic, stretched out for a full ten seconds—which didn’t sound like much but was really an eternity. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t breathe through the burning in her lungs. She was going to throw up.
When at last he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost dangerously so. “Quit what exactly?”
“Here. This.” She gestured around her, indicating the building as a whole. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Starla, don’t do this to me,” he said, still quiet, but now…Jesus. Destroyed.
No matter how she tried to hold the tears at bay, they welled in her eyes anyway, a cruel testament to the truth she’d just spoken. She had to go. It was the only solution. “I have to.”