Jagged (14 page)

It was magnificent.

So much so, I came in his mouth, moaning, whimpering, my fingers fisted in his hair to hold him to me.

I was nowhere near done when he was gone, for too long, and before I could come down and figure it out, he was back, covering me, his cock slamming inside me.

“Yes,” I breathed, wrapping my arms and legs around him, shoving my face in his neck.

He thrust hard and fast and grunted in mine.

“Yes, baby,” I panted and one of his hands slid down my side, in, over my belly, and then his thumb was
right there.
“Ham!” I gasped, my entire body jolting as his touch seared through me.

“You’re comin’ with me,” he grunted into my neck.

“Baby, that’s… it’s too…” I panted then a new climax rolled through me and I whispered,
“Ham.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, burying himself inside me, his hips deep and planted, the rest of his big, heavy body jerking as he came.

I descended from the high, my body melting into his bed, my arms softening around him.

Ham nuzzled my neck with his nose and lips.

I closed my eyes.

I held his weight. He held me, stayed planted inside me, his mouth moving on my neck for a long time before his hand slid up my body between us, up my neck. He swept my lips with his thumb and his lips came to my jaw where he kissed me.

Then he pulled out, rolled off, exited the bed, and sauntered to the bathroom.

I exited the bed, too, grabbed my stuff, and ran naked to my room.

I pulled on jeans, shirt, boots, grabbed my keys and purse and ran to the front door, through it, and straight to my car.

* * *

I spent the night in Carnal Hotel.

I woke up to three missed calls and a voice mail, all from Ham.

I’d turned my phone to mute.

I didn’t listen to the voice mail.

I went into super-sleuth mode. That was to say, I staked out our parking lot and dashed into the condo when I saw Ham head out for his run.

He did this later than usual.

I knew why because I had two more missed calls from him.

I dashed up to our place, took the fastest shower in history, tugged on new clothes, grabbed some stuff to get ready for work with, and drove back to Carnal Hotel where I’d paid for two nights and where I intended to hide out, and since the owners seemed like really nice people and they had a heated pool, I decided to do this maybe forever.

* * *

As I knew with the phone calls he wouldn’t, Ham did not assist me in avoiding him that night when I got to work.

I had confirmation of that when his eyes came right to me when I hit the floor from the back where the staff parked their cars and stowed their stuff in the office.

I looked away immediately and grabbed a tray off the end of the bar, which was luckily opposite to where Ham was.

I needed to find out which section I’d be covering tonight. To do that, I moved toward Christie, my waitressing partner for the evening, and I had made it the length of three feet before an arm clamped around my ribs, I was hauled back into a hard frame, and a mouth was at my ear.

“Tonight, we talk.”

Oh hell.

“Okay, Ham,” I lied.

“Been worried sick about your ass all day,” he stated.

I said nothing.

“You avoid me at the bar, I’ll not be best pleased,” he warned.

“Copy that,” I replied, breathing heavily and not wanting to get my drink orders from him or even look at him until I figured out what the fuck was happening in my head, not to mention make a wild stab at what might be happening in his.

He gave me a sturdy squeeze so my heavy breathing got heavier then he touched his lips to my neck and let me go.

The lip touch was interesting.

It was also terrifying.

Even so, it felt beautiful.

I didn’t avoid him at the bar and I told myself that was my punishment. Although I didn’t avoid him, Ham didn’t push conversation. That didn’t mean he wasn’t watchful of me, his eyes moving over my face, studying me closely before filling my orders, making my anxiety increase tremendously.

At the beginning of the shift, things were not busy or even steady. So I got my drink orders from Ham but I did my best to stay busy and away from the bar. Away from Ham.

Luckily, it got busier and I didn’t have to find work to keep me occupied.

Finally, it was closing time.

Ham was talking to Christie and I took that opportunity to go get my purse, get in my car, and get my ass to Carnal Hotel.

I accomplished one of these goals. I got my purse and I got
to
my car but I didn’t get in it because, as I was standing beside it, digging through my purse, I couldn’t find my keys.

“Reece wants to talk to you, honey,” Christie told me as she made her way to her Hyundai.

Man, oh man.

“Okay,” I called, forcing brightness in my tone and, as she got in and I moved to the back door, I saw Ham lounging in its frame holding up what appeared to be my keys.

“Lookin’ for these?” he asked.

I stopped four feet away and didn’t answer.

He palmed the keys and shoved them in his jeans pocket.

“I’m your ride home tonight, cookie,” he informed me.

“My car is here,” I informed him.

“It’ll be safe.”

“I’m not sure it will, Ham. We’re not exactly in town.”

And we weren’t. There was good reason why The Dog was almost completely populated by locals—because they were the only ones who knew how to find it out here in the boonies.

“Got security cameras, babe, so even if your car is stolen, we’ll catch on film who did it and you got insurance. So it’s stayin’ here and I’m your ride.”

“I—” I started but Ham swiftly cut me off.

“You say another goddamned word, I’ll kiss you quiet, drag your ass into the office, fuck you on the goddamned desk, and do it until you’re so exhausted, you can’t speak and
then
we’ll talk seein’ as I’m the one who’s got somethin’ to say.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

Ham did not.

“Now either you open your mouth and get that or you keep it shut and ride home with me. Which is it gonna be?”

Although, in an alternate universe, I’d jump at option A, in this universe, I was definitely going with option B.

So I pressed my lips together and, just in case he couldn’t see that from where he was lounging in the doorway, I slid them to the side to make sure I made my point.

“Good fuckin’ choice,” he stated. “Now get your ass in here while I finish shit.”

He stepped to the side and I got my ass in there, squeezing by him, so I could wait it out while he finished shit.

Then, clearly, we were going home to talk.

And I was utterly terrified of what he had to say.

We made the ride home in silence but I knew I couldn’t avoid the talk just as I knew I shouldn’t.

We had to get this out and move on.

And I knew how we were going to move on and that was me moving out and finding another job (again) because this was messed up.

I couldn’t live like this.

I’d tried but I’d rolled the dice and fucked it up.

I was in love with Ham. I had been since I was twenty-four. I probably would be forever.

So as he “finished shit” at the bar, I blanked my mind, stayed quiet, and waited.

The ride home was silent and tense. And when we got home, I moved to the living room, shrugged off my purse and jacket, and threw them on the armchair before I turned to sit my ass on the couch in order to get this done and prepare to move on.

Before I could make it to the couch, my hand was seized, my arm tugged, and I found myself being dragged behind Ham toward the hall.

“Ham—”

“Shut it five seconds, baby,” he told the hall, taking us on a direct trajectory to his room.

It took more than five seconds but I kept it shut the entire time, mostly because I was bemused, sad at the thought of losing Ham for good, and freaked way the hell out at the way Ham was acting. I was also wondering why I managed to always fuck up my life. I had no one else to blame but me about everything.

And especially this.

I knew better than to move in with him. I
way
knew better than to go to him that first night.

But I did.

Now we were broken, just like I broke Greg.

Ham was right, Greg knew me. He knew who he’d married, so I’d come to uneasy terms with that being not exactly all my fault.

This, I had no leg to stand on.

When we got to his room, Ham switched on a bedside lamp, used his hand in mine to maneuver me to the bed, and then let me go to put his hand in my belly. He gave me a little shove so I was sitting on his bed.

I looked up at him. “Ham—”

“Five more seconds, cookie,” he muttered as he bent, lifted my leg, yanked off my boot then he did the same with the other.

After that, he straightened and shrugged off his jeans jacket, letting it drop to the floor. He then stooped to take off his own boots and only after that did he come to me, plant his hands under my arms, and haul me into the bed so I was on my back, head to the pillows.

I belatedly started breathing heavily when he put a knee to the bed, hiked his other leg over me, and settled his big body mostly on me, partly to my side.

He put his elbow in the pillow, head in hand, and locked eyes with me.

That was when he asked, “What the fuck was that?”

My mind was now blanked for a different reason, primarily freaking way the hell out that we were having this conversation in his bed, so I didn’t know what he was asking.

Even if I wasn’t freaking, I still would be confused.

Therefore, I asked, “What the fuck was what?”

“Last night,” he answered. “I go to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, come out, you’re gone. By the time I make it to the door, buck naked, mind, I see you dressed and runnin’ down the hall. Seein’ as I’m buck naked, I can’t get to you before you disappear. You’re gone all night, don’t answer your phone, don’t answer it all fuckin’ day. I’m worried sick, you stroll into the bar, and then you’re beyond weird at work.”

I stared into his eyes, marveling how the light brown at his pupils spiked through the dark brown that edged his irises. I’d never seen anything like that and it was all kinds of fascinating because it was all kinds of gorgeous.

I did this memorizing it because, soon, I wouldn’t see it again.

Then I focused not on the color of his eyes, but him.

“I need to move out,” I whispered and his body seemed to grow heavier on mine as his eyebrows snapped together.

“What the fuck?”

“I need to move out,” I repeated, louder this time. “And, um, give notice.”

“What the fuck?” he said again, pissed this time, then he bit out, “For fuck’s sake, why?”

“Why?” I asked.

He had to know.

“Yeah, babe,
why
?”

He didn’t know.

“I can’t do this,” I told him. “I can’t be like we are now. I can’t be roomies.”

“Yeah, your sweet, hot, middle-of-the-night visit clued me in to that. Or, I should say, your sweet, hot, long-fuckin’-overdue visit clued me in to that.”

I felt my lips part as my eyes went from looking into his to staring.

“What?” I breathed.

“Zara, for nearly two months, I’ve been waitin’ for you to come to me.”

What did he just say?

I didn’t get a chance to ask; he kept talking.

“I didn’t handle it right that first night. Got the wrong end of the stick. You weren’t you. Thought your head was fucked. You gave me plenty of time to think about it, though, and I get it. You
were
you, and Christ, never knew a woman who liked my cock in her mouth so much. You got lost in that, lost control and, my guess, it’s been a long time so that made you totally lose control. It was fuckin’ hot, don’t get me wrong, but you got so lost it made me feel like available meat. But I shouldn’t have been a dick. I should have talked to you about it. But I’d been waiting so goddamned long for you to come to me, and that was not how I wanted it to go when you did, that I got pissed and acted like an asshole. But
you
shouldn’t have run away when we sorted that out last night in my bed before we could totally sort it out by havin’ a goddamned chat.”

I heard all that.

But I honed into one part of it.

“You’ve been waiting for me to come to you?”

“Babe, you’re my Zara, my cookie, so fuck yeah, I’ve been bidin’ my time, givin’ you space to sort your head out, but waitin’ to get you back, as in”—his hand slid up to cup my jaw and his face dipped closer—
“back.”

Was he serious? Two months… no
seven
, if you counted when he came back after hatchet man got to him, I’d been in misery and
he’d
been waiting to get me back?

I felt my eyes narrow.

“Last night, you rolled off me and didn’t say a word about a chat before you went to the bathroom,” I reminded him.

“Zara, what we shared, so good, so hot, so close, us bein’ back to us, didn’t feel I needed to say a word,” he replied.

Was he for real? “Back to us” and he didn’t feel he needed to say a word?

“Well, you did,” I stated.

“I see that
now
,” he returned.

Okay, then, time for a different subject.

“You said you didn’t want my body,” I accused.

“I lied, Zara. Fuck, when have I ever not wanted in there?” he asked, a question that had one answer, that being
never
. But he didn’t give me the chance to give that answer, he kept talking. “I would have said anything to get you out of that shithole, get you safe, and get you
with me.
”

“You lied?” I asked.

“I lied,” Ham answered.

“Lied?” My voice was getting higher.

“Asked and answered, darlin’,” he clipped.

“So you thought it was a good idea to lie,” I noted unhappily.

“Babe, I came to you, we almost instantly got up in each other’s shit. You had a lot you were dealin’ with and one of those things didn’t need to be me. You weren’t lettin’ anyone do anything for you. You needed time to deal. I wanted you with me. I did what I had to do to give you that and make that happen for me.”