Outside The Lines:: Third Person Narration (25 page)

But the way she figured it, there were two ways to interpret the single sentence he’d spoken since she entered:
“I trusted him.”
 

She could focus on the ‘him,’ on Dan, or she could focus on the ‘I.’ And for a guy like Johnny, she was pretty sure the ‘I’ was the kicker.
 

It sure had been for her, in her dark nights of the soul.
 
And Johnny and her, they were a lot alike.
 
Except for him being a wizard and all.
 

She knew what she’d gone through, with all the messed up people who’d passed through her life, all the betrayal flung her way.
 
So she took a flyer, and guessed what Johnny might be feeling right now: bereft. Lost. And not just because he’d lost his friend and partner. Because he’d lost a part of himself. Had it hacked off like a hunk of meat, right off the side of his heart.
 

Betrayal did that to a person.
 

Afterwards, self-doubt would creep in.
 
Like a nightmare, it could spread in the darkness. And if a person wasn’t careful, it could take everything from her: confidence; trust; hope.
   

That’s why some people started taking a lot of care. A whole lot of care.
 
Maybe too much.
 
Treating her life like an egg that might crack open.
 
Until she had no life at all, just the shell of one.
 
It only looked like a life.
 

So she looked at Johnny and said softly, “Maybe you just stopped paying attention.
 
And maybe that’s when he changed.
 
Maybe you can trust yourself.”
 

His gaze slid to hers, glittering green, hard, cold.
 
His eyes were definitely back to ‘Before.’ While hers were so sadly, pathetically, ‘After.’
 

“I know people fuck each other over, Juliette,” he said, referring back to the beginning of her inspirational speech.
 
His voice was low, like he hadn’t spoken for a long time.
 
“I don’t need a lesson in it.”
 

She straightened sharply. “Yeah, well, maybe you do.”

His eyes locked on hers.
 

“Or maybe you need a lesson on what to do when someone fucks you over. I mean, you can’t just say, okay, one guy is an asshole so I give up.”
 
She flung her hands in a surrender motion.
 
“You can’t do that. Don’t be scared. And don’t be an idiot.”
 
She heard the words come out of her mouth and hurried on past them.
 

“Look at all the things you’ve accomplished, Johnny. It’s impressive, and it’s all you. You did it. Look at what you’ve built here, this whole business, Danger Enterprises, going to rule the world one day, God save us all, and you’ve got a roster of amazing clients, and please don’t tell me Dan brought them all in, because that was you, and then there’s the movie stars,” she was babbling now, “and who wouldn’t want movie stars?, and of course you know how to make great referrals, seeing as you referred Mrs. B to me, maybe, or maybe not, and I just think—”

He kissed her.
 
Reached for one of her waving hands, pushed to his feet as he yanked her up against his body and kissed her, violent and hard.

 
She was ready for it, welcomed it, kissed him back.
 
Wet and smashing and fast, it was an assault of passion.
 
She stood up on her toes and pressed her body up to the hard length of him, trying to get closer. He wrenched his mouth away.
 

“I don’t need to be cheered the fuck up, Juliette,” he rasped as he pushed his hand up her shirt. “And I don’t need lessons in relationships or self-actualization.”
 
He brushed a thumb over her nipple, electrifying her.
 
“I’m not scared and I never give up and I never back down and don’t get any ideas about
us
,” he growled as he cupped the nape of her neck, “because there’s nothing in me for an us. Got it?”
   

His eyes, so close to hers, were glittering green and hard as ice, but not cold now.
 
Hot, dark with intensity, and she felt both weakened and energized by him.
 
Aroused, crushed, drawn to everything about him,
everything
, even the things that should make her run a thousand miles: the outpouring of those words, the suddenness of him reaching for her, the possessiveness of it, the intense, fired-up heat of him and his hard, hot eyes.
 

She was a goner.

“I got it,” she whispered, shaking.

He leaned over her, their mouths touching. “Maybe it’s you who needs to stop giving up, Juliette.” He pushed his hand up her shirt and flipped her bra open with a single flick.
 

“Oh God,” she panted.
 

“Maybe it’s you who built something they need to start paying attention to.” He hefted the weight of her breast in his hand, abraded her nipple, and she arched for him. “Maybe you’re the one who’s scared,” he said, low and almost angry as he stroked her into dizziness.
 
“Maybe you were talking to yourself back there.”
 
His eyes reflected moonlight and glinted in the darkness.
 

“I’m not scared of anything except skiing,” she lied in a whisper.

He smiled a scary smile and let his hand fall away.
 
He took a step back, then another.
 
She felt a wave of fear and anger rise inside her, mingling together.

“You know how you work smarter, Juliette?” he asked coldly.
 

“Probably be more like you, huh?” she suggested, just as coldly. The room was full of coldness right now.

His gaze drilled into hers.
 
“You take credit for shit. You step into the light. You make noise, make waves, make a scene. You
get
seen. You don’t mince around saying you got lucky, letting other people steal your thunder.”
 

“I don’t have thunder,” she whispered.
 
He was right.
 

He leaned close and said in her ear, “You’re a fucking volcano. When are you going to see it?”

“I don’t know, Johnny.
 
I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you’re here, Juliette.”
 
He reached out and brushed the back of his hand down her cheek.
 
“Why?
 
Why are you here?
 
What do you want?”
 
He pushed a hand up under her skirt, slid his thumb up to the juncture of her thighs. Her face flamed.
 
“Are you here to get fucked?”
 

She narrowed her eyes at him.
 
“You trying to pick a fight, Danger?”

“I’m trying to show you what it’s going to be like.”

That seemed at once hopeful and crushing.
 
She was torn between the two as she stared into his eyes.

“You don’t know anything about me, Juliette,” he said, his hand still under her skirt, hovering tantalizingly close to her flesh.
 

“I know a few things.”

He pushed his thumb down, into the slippery wet heat of her.
 
“All I do is push things, babe.”
 

She leaned back against the desk.
 

His eyes met hers as the flat of his thumb brushed her clit, pushing her away with his words, coaxing her closer with his body.
 

“Maybe I’m here to push things,” she whispered.
 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Neither do you,” she retorted, breathless and angry. “This is new territory for both of us.”

That’s all it took, a discussion of ‘territories.’
 
His eyes shuttered.
 
He dropped his hand, started to turn away.
 

She was suddenly furious.
 
She slapped a hand down on his forearm.
 
He stopped and looked at it.
 
She put her other hand on his chest and made a fist, crushing the front of his expensive shirt into a tight, wrinkly knot.
 
Then she gave it a hard shake, too angry to care about the slow way his gaze tracked back up her body.

“You know what I think, Danger?” she asked, real close to his face.
 
“I think
you’re
the one who’s scared.”
 

Before she knew what was happening, he had her up against the wall, her wrists above her head, tight in his fist.

“Not scared?” he asked, menacingly low.

She shook her head, scared to death.
 

“But you want to be.”

“Yes. No. Dammit, Johnny, stop that,” she protested angrily.
 
“I’m saying
you’re
scared right now. That’s why you’re being such an ass.”

A hard smile touched his mouth. “Scared of what?”

“I guess my hands.” She gave them a sharp tug. He’d done this in bed, and it had scared and aroused her beyond belief, and obviously, he’d seen that, and now he was going to use it against her.
 

Lucky her.

He looked her over, still trapping her wrists, then he leaned close. “How about I tie you up, Juliette?”

All the air in her chest rushed out.

“I want to tie you up. Cover your eyes. Lay you out on my desk. You won’t know what I’m about to do until I’m doing it.”

Good God,
that sounded terrifying.
 
Fire pushed through her blood.
 
“Maybe,” she whispered.

His hips came forward, the length of his erection pushed against her belly.
 
What else would you do for me?”

Anything
.
 
“Ask and see.”

“Would you suck cock for me, baby?
 
So I can watch?”

Her body turned to molten lava.
 

“How about pussy?”

“Oh,” she cried weakly.

“I thought you were here to push it.”

“I’m here to be with you.”
And push it.

Her eyes never left his, which were hard and glittering.
 

“How far, babe? Because I push hard, and I don’t think you want to play.”
 

“Johnny, you can’t scare me.”
 
She was truly, completely scared by the way he was looking down at her.
 
And aroused beyond belief.
 
And ready to have fear stop ruling her life. “And I’m not walking away.”

“Then hold on, baby,” he whispered, and the side of his fingers, competent and hot and thick, slid down the slippery length of her, pushing into her folds. She rocked into his touch. He went up again and fluttered at her clit, fast and hard. The sensation yanked her head back with a broken cry. He shifted, slid down again, then pushed a finger up inside her, a steady push.

 
She gave a shuddering moan into his neck.
 
He did it again.

The knobbly bone at the inner edge of his wrist pressed directly against her aching, swirling pussy.
 
She moaned and ground into it a little harder.

“Lean into me,” he murmured.
 
She tipped forward, so her belly rode up his long arm, and rested her chin on his shoulder.
 
He angled his torso to face her, and with his other hand, dragged her chin up.
 
He opened her mouth with a hard, passionate kiss, his tongue lashing her as fiercely as his finger was.
 
She was wet everywhere, she felt it, slippery between her thighs.
 
He slipped another finger in. Then another. She shuddered and broke the kiss to close her teeth into his shoulder.

“Spread your legs, Juliette,” he rasped in her ear.
 
“Ride me.
 
Feel it.”

She did everything he bid, his wicked, wanton suggestions making her body pulse.

“You like it?”

She couldn’t do anything but whimper.
 
His fingers were thick and insistent, driving her into a senseless state of arousal.
 
She pushed against him harder and faster. He lifted his wrist up, giving her the pressure she ached for, as his fingers pumped in and out, wet, hot, thick things.
 
She clasped her hands around his neck, her chin on his shoulder, her eyes shut.
 
Her thighs were trembling; she wanted to get up and ride his arm.

“I’m going to lift your skirt,” he said.
 
“I want to watch you move.”

His hand skimmed over her bottom. Up went my skirt and his palm cupped her ass.
   

Her head was pounding, her body throbbing.
 

“Move for me, Juliette.”

She rocked into him, panting, rolling her forehead on his shoulder, every so often nipping him, unable to keep the moans from slipping out as his wrist bone slid hard against her clitoris. She watched him watching her move.
 
He was intent, his dark head bent slightly, his jaw tight.
 
Then his lust-darkened eyes swept over and locked on hers.