More (14 page)

Jules:
Down boy!

Me:
You won’t be saying that later.

Jules:
This is inappropriate. It’s not even lunch time yet.

Me:
It could be.

Jules:
Get back to work, I want to be impressed.

Me:
Prepare to be dazzled.

Jules:
See you soon, can’t wait.

Me:
Ditto.

For the next five hours I work to dazzle her.

Jules

Foster greets me at the front door of the bistro, wearing a white chef’s coat and black pants. His hair is slicked back from his face and he looks good enough to eat. Chef Paul has agreed to let him serve me all his new dishes. I don’t know how Foster pulled it off. Each day brings a new surprise.

He’s already served me grilled prawns for an appetizer and a green salad with hazelnuts—my favorite—when another chef pulls up a seat at my table. He’s thin and smiley with a ton of unruly red hair.

“Hi,” he says extending an arm. “I just had to come out and see what all the fuss was about. You must be Jules.”

“I am,” I say, waiting for his introduction.

“Jared,” he says. “I’m the kitchen manager. Taught Foster everything he knows,” he teases.

“Well, you’ve done a wonderful job.” I play along.

“We’ve heard a lot about you back there.” He points to the kitchen. “Jules this, Jules that. Jules is a brilliant law student. Jules takes amazing pictures.”

My face flushes. It is so unlike Foster to share personal information…with anyone. I don’t even know what to say.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yup.” He nods. “We may have to pry it out of him from time to time, but you are definitely a favorite conversation topic. Now that I’ve met you, I can see why.”

I continue turning brighter shades of red. “Please.” I wave away the embarrassing words.

He smiles again and pats my shoulder. “Well, I better get back there before Foster burns down the place. Nice meeting you, Jules.”

“You too.”

I did not expect that tonight.

A few minutes later, Foster brings out my vegetable pasta. I have a hard time meeting his eyes when he does, knowing that he’s been talking about me to his coworkers. It goes unnoticed because at least three tables in the restaurant ask for the same dish, so he’s asked to help out at the sauté station. It is a huge deal, but Foster handles it all with ease. He’s so together here—organized, confident, respected, and great at what he does. I’m warm with pride.

I take my time, savoring the meal and sipping a Pinot Gris until he’s finished in the kitchen. The restaurant is almost empty when Foster joins me with a chocolate layer cake and two espressos.

“So what did you think?” he asks with a grimace, like he’s nervous for my reaction.

“I think you are freaking awesome. And so did everyone else.” I grab his hands and squeeze. “Was Chef Paul mad when the others asked for your food?”

“No,” Foster laughs. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“I am so impressed, so proud of you.”

“As much as I hate to say it, I think you were right. I could do this—run my own place. I think I could even be successful.”

“Well, one, I’m always right and the sooner you understand that the better. And two, you already are successful. I know you could do it. I know you’d be great.”

I’m comfortable and content from the incredible food and wine—not to mention my company—so I sit back and devour my chocolate cake while Foster shares his dreams.

~~~

It was the perfect night. Seeing this new side of Foster has me crazy with lust. Honestly, I can’t keep my hands off him. On the way home, he drives my car and I get an idea. Something I’ve never done in all of our time together. Not because I didn’t want to, more because the opportunity never presented itself. And Foster’s always been in the lead.

Tonight, I want to change that.

He pulls me over to his side, where I rest my head while he drives, letting my good hand travel over him.

“The things I’m going to do to you when we get home.” He kisses my head, continuing to navigate our way back to the apartment. “You better be ready.”

“I can’t wait until we get home,” I tell him as I slide down his body. I tug on his pants so he knows what I mean.

“Are you kidding me?” he chuckles. “Do you want us to get into an accident?”

“Shhh,” I whisper. “Hush now and help me with this button.”

Foster

Christ, I have fantasized about this. So many damn times. Stroking Jules’ face, while her lips are wrapped around me. Watching her take me in her sassy-ass mouth, teasing me with her tongue. But I’ve always tried to stay in control with her, because I knew if we ever went too far, if I ever let her in too much…

Tonight proved we’ve already gone beyond the point of no return. And I can’t say no to what she’s offering now. When we stop at a red light, I flick open the button on my pants and pull them down past my hips. Jules looks up at me with her soft eyes and gives me the tiniest of smiles, like I’m the most amazing thing she’s ever seen. Like she’d rather be nowhere else in this moment.

She grips me with her good hand and her mouth slides down over my shaft. It seriously messes me up for a second. I feel drunk, high, lost in her. My eyes cloud over and it takes everything in me not to close them and enjoy every single second.

I keep one hand on the wheel and the other rests on her head, feeling her move down on me. I stroke her silky hair and take short breaths, desperately looking for a place to pull over before I get both of us killed.

Don’t get me wrong, this would be a great way to go.

Once I stop the car, I look down at her and watch her take me deep. All the way. It feels fucking awesome, the way she picks up the pace, sucking harder.

Oh, Christ.

“Fuck, Jules,” I gasp. “Don’t stop. Right there, righ—”

I pull away so I don’t come in her mouth. She shakes her head and pushes my hip down, fastening her lips around me even tighter. Until I let go.

The explosion behind my eyelids is otherworldly. And not just because the whole scene was amazingly hot, it’s this girl who does this to me.

“I love,” I start without thinking, still letting my heart run the show. But my head knows it’s too soon. “I loved that. You are incredible.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I needed to do something for you after you slaved in the kitchen for my ten-course meal.”

“Hmmm.” I grin, keeping it light. “So that’s how we play, quid pro quo?”

She smiles.

“Okay,” I tell her. “I can do that.”

So up in her room, I reward her for a job well done.

Twice.

~~~

Usually our pillow talk is light and fun. Tonight, though, Jules has turned serious, solemn even. Something more is going on between us and I think we’re both trying to get our arms around it.

“I guess I don’t understand why you’d be interested in me,” Jules says, all tucked in and adorable under the covers.

“What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding what she’s getting at here. “Do you want me to give you a list? If you need me to, I’ll even alphabetize it. A: for your rocking ass. B: for the best blowjob I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Stop. That’s not what I mean. But, really? It was the best?”

“Baby, everything with you is the best.”

“I’m not even in your wheelhouse,” she tells me.

I don’t like the direction this conversation is taking.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Ash, Tiffany, Emma,” she spits each name. “Shall I go on?”

“No, please don’t, and what we’re doing isn’t the same. I mean, yes, I’ve been
with
them, but this—what we have—is different. It wasn’t serious with those girls.”

“To be honest, I really don’t care if it was or not. I’m not saying this as a weak girl who needs to be told she’s beautiful. My self-esteem is intact, thank you very much. Why me after all this time? I’m different from your usual menu item.”

Now she’s starting to piss me off.

“Jules.” I wrap my hand around her shoulder. “Those girls are not in my wheelhouse. I don’t have a wheelhouse. If I did, you’d be in it. You’d
be
it for fuck’s sake. They are,
were,
my distraction, medicine, therapy, stress reliever. I know it. They know it. We helped each other. With you, things get too real, too fast. I can’t control my feelings around you. Half the time, I can’t trust myself to be around you, so I act like an ass and do things like call you by someone else’s name. That way
you
are forced to make the decision, because I never could.”

Time to lay all the cards on the table…and I’m playing to win.

Her eyes fill and the guilt is enough to make me crumble.

“You remember that?” she asks. “Calling me Ash?”

“Of course I do. Baby, if I didn’t do something I would’ve taken you and not looked back. I’m that much of a selfish dick. I wasn’t ready for that and neither were you.”

“Foster, that was only a week ago,” she says, shrugging off my touch.

“Yeah, and a lot has happened since then.”

“Do you know how that made me feel?” She closes her eyes. “What that did to me?”

“Don’t say it, Jules.” My temples throb and I feel the rage boiling my blood. “Don’t fucking say it. If you hurt yourself because of me.” I pull up her sleeve to expose her scars, looking for any new damage. That hurts almost more than anything else. “If you used your damn arm as a fucking astray again, Jules.”

“I didn’t hurt myself, you moron.” She sits up now and I follow. “I felt bad, I was sad. I wanted you, and you thought I was somebody else, or pretended to. Do you know how much you’ve screwed me up with other men? I wouldn’t hurt myself over it. I wouldn’t do that for anyone anymore. That was one time, after Ben died. I couldn’t handle it because I thought we were responsible. ”

“
I
was responsible, Jules. Nobody else.”

“Bullshit! I had a role in it too. I could’ve stopped them. I should’ve been there. But I know we all had a part in it. Yes, we should’ve handled things differently but we didn’t. We were young and we’re human. In the end, it was Ben who made the decision. It was Jenna who agreed to let him drive.”

Yeah, but there’s more to the story, Jules.

“I know,” I tell her to put this conversation to bed. “I know. But I’m still sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“Me too,” Jules says. “And I’m sorry to end the night like this. It was so perfect, too perfect. I guess I needed to muck it up or something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when we’re bickering or giving each other crap things aren’t as scary. Like you said,
things with us are too real.”

“They are,” I say, pulling her into my arms. “I think it’s about damn time.”

Jules

After my exhausting night with Foster, I sleep hard. Until the dreams start.

I try not to think about what happened after the accident. I’ve trained myself to get over it, but sometimes the memories seep into my dreams and I remember. I remember how in a moment of weakness, I thought about ending it all—and maybe I did deserve what my mom’s boyfriend did to me after Dad left us. I know how it sounds now, but it made sense in some sort of deranged way then.

It’s scary to think about how a person can take control from another. Yeah, in my situation I was a kid. I didn’t have much choice. Still, look at all the battered women who stay. Or the kidnapping victims who succumb to their captor. Or cults or bad marriages. Why? Why would you stay with someone who had ultimate control? Why wouldn’t you kick the mofo to the curb and get the heck out of Dodge?

One word.

Fear.

When Mom’s first boyfriend, Billy, used me as his verbal punching bag, I never said one word back. I never told anyone. Not until Foster found out. He overheard one of Billy’s tongue lashings. Mom was through with him shortly after Foster found out, so shit never really hit the fan.

No, it was nothing like the situation with Ed.

Ed was smarter. He primed and conditioned me with fear before he made his move. He started slow. A grab around my arm. A shake. A slap across the face. Not to mention the threats about harming my mom if I ever told. So I took it in silence.

Because of fear.

Then the night—the beginning of end. Mom had been on his case. She was onto him. He was so not her type, but after Dad left us, she was low and her self-esteem was shot. That’s when these losers pounce. They can smell the fear, the desperation.

I don’t remember what he said—or what I said—when he took that cigarette to my arm. I just remember the pain and how it was almost a welcome feeling, compared to the fear I’d been living with. I think I was looking for that feeling again after Ben died, so I mimicked Ed’s assault.