Chapter 10
926 Words
Chapter 10
The jazz club gradually emptied after the final performance, leaving only the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses being cleared. Elena left the club first, the cool night air stinging her flushed cheeks. Jasper trailed behind, his hands shoved into his pockets, still sporting a contented expression as though the night had been nothing short of perfect.
“I had a good time,” Jasper said, pausing on the sidewalk. “Really good.”
“Yeah.” Elena meant it, at least, as long as the note, the flower, the bracelet remained tucked away in her brain, forgotten. Just music, just normal.
Jasper looked at Elena's wrist, empty of the bracelet, and then at her face, which had been distracted, to say the least, since the bathroom visit. “You okay? You seemed... distracted after the bathroom.”
“Yeah, I'm fine.” Elena tried to force a smile onto her face. “Just tired, long week.”
Jasper nodded, not asking any further questions, and then said, “Get home safe, okay? Text me when you do?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Jasper leaned forward, slow, allowing Elena time to retreat, to move away, to escape, and Elena did nothing, said nothing, did not move, and Jasper
His lips had grazed her cheek, soft and warm and tender. “Goodnight, Elena.”
“Goodnight.”
He moved away, toward the subway.
She followed him with her eyes until he turned the corner out of sight.
Then she turned and started home.
And collided with a wall of black wool.
Damian.
He had been waiting in the shadows under the awning, his hands in his pockets, his eyes dark and hidden.
“Enjoy your kiss?” he asked, his voice low and menacing.
Elena’s breath caught in her throat. “It was on the cheek,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “And it’s none of your business.”
Damian moved in, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. The street was deserted now, everyone gone home, a few stragglers far down the street, but nobody paying any attention to them.
He took one more step.
She backed up, out of habit, until she felt the wall of the building behind her.
He didn’t stop. His hands came up on either side of her head, caging her in. Not touching her. Just close enough that she felt the heat of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the night air.
“You think he can keep you safe?” he murmured. “He doesn’t even know what you need.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. “And you do?”
His eyes dropped to her lips, then came back to her eyes. “I know you like being seen. Really seen. Not just smiled at.”
Her voice shook. “Back off, Damian.”
He didn’t.
Instead he leaned in—slow, deliberate—until his mouth hovered near her ear.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Not from fear.”
She hated that he was right.
Her hands came up to push at his chest. Solid. Warm. She meant to shove him away.
Her fingers curled into his coat instead.
He felt it. One hand slid from the wall to her waist—firm, possessive, thumb tracing the underside of her ribcage through the sweater. Not low. Not crude. Just enough to make her breath catch.
“You like this,” he whispered against her ear. “Being held. Being wanted so much it hurts.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop.”
He didn’t.
His mouth touched the shell of her ear—barely a caress. Teasing. Promising.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. “And I will.”
The silence stretched. Her heart pounded in her ears.
She didn’t say it.
His thumb began its slow circle around her waist again. Her knees weakened.
“Say it,” he whispered. “Or admit you want more.” Her voice was small. “I… don’t know.”
He pulled back enough to look at her. Eyes black, hungry, triumphant.
“You will,” he said softly. “Soon.”
And then he stepped away.
Completely.
Leaving her standing there, pressed against the wall, breathing hard, her skin on fire where he’d touched her.
He straightened his coat, calm once more. In control.
“Goodnight, Elena.”
And he walked away. Long strides, into the darkness, as if he’d never been there at all.
She stood there against the wall for a full minute, her heart pounding, her thighs pressed tightly together to alleviate the ache he’d left behind.
She hated him.
She wanted him.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Elena did not sleep.
She stared up at the ceiling, reliving that second pressed against the brick wall. His hands holding her captive. His mouth against her ear. The way her body had betrayed her. Her heart pounding. Her skin warming. Her thighs together as if that would ease the ache he'd awakened.
She despised how much she'd wanted him to continue.
She despised that she'd not told him to stop.
The bracelet was once again wrapped around her wrist come morning. She told herself it was nothing. Just a trinket. But as she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, the silver leash-style hook catch caught her eye like a confession she couldn’t conceal.
- Writer
