Tempt Me Twice 1 (4 page)

The flush probably only added to my look of guilt, and it was far too late anyway. The damage had been done.

“What the fuck, Kayla?”

Accusation dripped from Nick’s words. I fought back the guilt that threatened to conquer the righteous anger that I felt like I deserved.

“You’re the one who freaked out.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but my words sounded more like a hiss, six months’ worth of hurt and upset slowly starting to escape, a puncture in a balloon. “You’re the one who wanted to pretend that nothing had happened.”

“Because it was a bad idea!” Nick’s voice rose almost to a shout, and from the corners of my eyes I saw the diners at the next table turn to stare.

“It was
your
bad idea!”

Nick had half risen from his chair; now he sat back down, a mean glint in his eyes.

“We haven’t spoken in six months, and we were thinking about getting married. But some guy you kissed once, you’ve kept in contact with him?”

I didn’t like feeling the need to respond to his accusations, but the words poured out of my mouth regardless.

“We text. We talk on Facebook. Not that it’s any of your business.” My voice sounded stiff even to my own ears. “And he’s not just some guy. He’s your friend. My friend. And for all I knew, the two of you have been kissing every night! How would I know?”

The look on Nick’s face would have been comical, if it hadn’t made me so sad.

“Is that why you won’t try again, you and me?” The expression on his face transformed him, turned him into someone I didn’t know. “You’re with him?”

It hurt my heart, the emphasis that Nick put on the word
him
.

“You two used to be best friends.” I said sadly. I saw what Nick tried so hard to bury.

He wasn’t homophobic, not by a long shot. One of his good friends here at school was gay, and of course, he and Jax had once been so close.

But Nick had no idea what to do with his feelings for Jax. They didn’t fit into a neat little box, and Nick was fond of tidiness.

“Well?” He persisted. I stared at him, this man who still owned such a big piece of my heart, bile rising in my throat.

If nothing else, I regretted that kiss because it had turned my loving, kind boyfriend into the angry, emotional wreck that currently sat in front of me.

“
No
, we are not together.” I wished my words were a paddle, the better to hit him in the head with. “And again, what business is it of yours? You’re the one who freaked out afterwards. You’re the one who pushed me until I had no choice but to move out.”

My rage thawed some of Nick’s own, but rather than calming down, a trickle of sadness worked its way into the lines around his lips.

“Kayla, he’s gay.” Nick’s lips pressed so tightly together that I could barely see them anymore. “This won’t end well for you.”

I was stupefied. Of all the things that had occurred between the three of us,
this
was what Nick chose to focus on? Yes, Jax was gay, but clearly that line had blurred when he’d met me, and Nick knew that.

He was trying to make me doubt myself, and I wouldn’t stand for that. Nick knew enough about my family to know how much I did that myself on a daily basis.

It was a low blow.

“I won’t let you cast me as the villain here, Nick.” Sick with the anger, I rose and worked my hand into the pocket of my tight jeans. “And there’s nothing to end, except apparently all hopes of you and I.”

I pulled one of the crisp twenties I’d gotten from the bank machine out of my pocket and tossed it onto the table.

“Sorry I can’t contribute more to dinner.” I knew that, even angry, Nick wouldn’t expect me to chip in, and it hurt to part with even a penny of my remaining cash, but it was important to me to make a point.

I didn’t need him. I didn’t
need
any man, so if I wanted to be with one, it would be on my own damn terms.

“Kayla!” Nick shouted as I turned away from the table.

I didn’t look back, though frustration had my lower lip quivering with suppressed tears.

He didn’t follow.

I
had left my car on campus that afternoon, thinking—maybe a part of me even hoping—that I wouldn’t need it until the next morning. The walk from the restaurant was long, and as night fell, cold as hell.

I wrapped my arms around me tightly, the wind still biting though the open weave of my sweater.

At that moment, what I wanted most of all was to be wrapped up in someone’s arms. Anyone’s would do. Not for sex—I just really, really wanted a hug.

“Not going to happen, Kayla.” Wiping my nose on my sleeve because I had nothing else, I pulled my keys from my bag and let myself into my car. It wasn’t any warmer inside, though at least the sturdy metal doors broke the endless bite of the wind.

As I cranked the heater and reached for the gear shift—the old Contour was reliable but wouldn’t relinquish any warm air until it was actually moving—I realized that I hadn’t even checked Jax’s text yet.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I slid my finger over the touch screen.

What do you think?

The one line message he’d sent me was innocent enough, but the attached image...

When I figured out what I was looking at, I found it hard to suck in a breath.

The photo was of a man, the back of a man, to be more precise. Tawny skin stretched tight over the muscles of someone who clearly used his body well.

Massive arms with muscles so sharp I thought I could cut myself on them were spread out wide, making a T shape. The man’s head was dipped down and to the side, revealing just a hint of profile.

There was nothing to impede the view of that delicious skin, from the wide shoulders, over the tight shoulder blades, down the tapering back and waist.

The sexy hipbones, the small dip in between them.

And the tiniest sliver of high, tight male buttocks, just a tease before the picture abruptly ended.

Like all of Jax’s work, it was rich, intense. Unapologetically sexual.

What made this one different was that it was a self-portrait. It was Jax who was exposed to the camera, Jax whose skin was making my mouth water.

“Holy shit.”

Taking my hands off the gear shift entirely, I tossed my phone on the passenger’s seat like it had burned my fingers, then closed my eyes. It was just a photograph, but I could feel the way my nipples had tightened, the slickness that had surged between my legs.

These were not healthy things for my state of mind. Especially not after the showdown I’d just had with Nick, and the disappointment and anger coursing through me as a result.

Jax had told me that I’d been the first woman to ever catch his eye, really catch it, in
that
way. I believed him. But I also knew that part of my attraction had been my connection to Nick. Nick, the boy Jax had loved for his entire life.

After the kiss, Jax and I had settled into a comfortable, long distance friendship, punctuated by texts, Facebook messages, and on my part, a lot of naughty dreams.

But I knew that part of why Nick had made me so angry in the restaurant was that I was afraid he was right.

Jax was gay. He’d come out as gay in his teens. I couldn’t imagine that there was anything so special about me that would make him change his mind.

For that reason, I needed to keep my needy, lustful thoughts in check.

But how in the hell was I supposed to do that when he sent me pictures like
that
? Worse, I knew fully well that he’d no intention of being titillating.

We talked about our mutual appreciation for art often, and he liked to send me pictures he’d taken, to get my thoughts on them.

He’d just never taken one quite like this.

“Fuck my life,” I muttered as I deliberately banged my head on the steering wheel, hoping to knock some sense into my thick skull. Instead I made my horn blare, and I jumped, knocking my phone to the floor.

Good. It could stay there. That way I wouldn’t be able to ogle Jax, or to text him any of the naughty things that were running through my mind. I had to focus. I had to figure out what the hell to do in my immediate future, because now that Nick and I had blown up, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be staying with him.

I’d strangle him in his sleep.

“Shit.” I swore, cursing the situation as I shoved the car into gear. With no plan in mind, I drove back to the place that, until this afternoon, I’d called home. My belongings were still scattered across the lawn, and someone had thoughtfully gathered my loose underwear into a pile.

I gagged as I shoved it into an open garbage bag that held my jeans. I did not want to ruminate on the idea of one of my neighbours, all of whom were unsavory, manhandling my panties.

I half expected Kevin to come back out and resume the harassment he’d always seemed to save just for me. But all looked quiet inside apartment 2A.

“Seven o’clock, stripper pole time.” Tammy would be at work, and given their new arrangement as roommates slash fuck buddies, Kevin was probably perched right at the edge of the stage, grinning with pride every time another man tossed a wadded up dollar bill at his woman’s naked snatch.

“Charming.” I muttered as I stuffed my belongings into the trunk and back seat of my car. They fit easily, everything I had in the world, and the realization made me shift uncomfortably.

“Shut up.” I snapped the order at the nasty little devil who perched on my left shoulder. I had had a shitty enough day without pondering the impact of my existence on the world. Slamming the driver’s side door behind me after I slid back into my car and locked the door—this wasn’t the best part of town—I again cranked the heat then sat, shivering, at a complete loss about what to do next.

Worst case scenario, I could sleep in my car. I could shower at the gym at school in the morning.

Hell to the no.
The idea made me nauseous. I’d never felt at home back in Louisiana, and that was because I’d never fit in. Everyone had been poor and had a lack of education, and I’d been seen as uppity because I’d wanted more. When I’d come to school here, living first in the dorms and then with Nick, I’d finally had a little corner of the world that I could call my own, where no one mocked me.

Living in my car—it was so transient. Like I could drive away, disappear, and no one would notice.

Even after Nick and I had broken up, even when I’d felt adrift, I’d found a place to call my own, no matter how undesirable a place it was outside.

And now I’d been stripped of even that, thanks to my fucking family.

“They’re never going to let me go.” I spoke out loud into the silent air of the car. My breath steamed up the windows, and I placed a hand to the chilled glass.

The print clouded over as soon as I removed my touch. But if I looked hard enough, a faint imprint remained.

I was here. I matter, damn it.

My brow furrowed as I thought of my hard earned money disappearing. I thought of the guilt trips my mother always placed on me for moving so far away, for not being around to help her—read, to give her free babysitting and cash.

I thought of the way no one had believed me when I’d told them what had really happened to make me change. How I’d gone from a shy but happy enough girl to one who was afraid of her own shadow.

I tried not to think of where I came from very often, because as far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist. But today my past had smacked me in the face, and I realized that I was more angry than scared.

They hadn’t stood by me, and so they’d taken my past. I was fucking
tired
of them trying to ruin my present.

“I want to be free.” My mind tried to stop my lips from forming the words, so even though I was alone in my car, they were barely audible, and sounded scratchy, like I hadn’t spoken in years.

But it felt good to say them.

“I want to be
free
.” Even with all of the shit that my redneck, hillbilly relatives had pulled on me over the course of my lifetime, I’d never actually told them no. Instead I’d run... but they always found me.

Rage welled up inside me. I wanted to scream.

I was alone. Why couldn’t I?

Clenching my hands into fists, I tried. The sound came out like a whimper, making me sound like a mouse.

Screwing up my face, gathering my courage to me, I opened my mouth again, and this time the sound came out. I screamed, let my voice echo long and loud. As the words slammed against the confines of my car, I felt my helplessness fly away with it.

I could do this. I could confront them and tell them no.

When I opened my eyes, a concerned face was peering in my passenger’s side window. I jumped, then began to giggle, the laughter bubbling from my chest uncontrollably.

The concerned citizen raised her eyebrows, slowly backed away from the car, and kept going. Clearly she wanted to get away from the crazy person, and fast.

I watched her walk away, my hysterical laughter dying as I sobered.

I had no money and nowhere to go. I couldn’t let this slide.

I would never be free until I showed my family that I was strong, that I wouldn’t put up with their shit. Of course, confronting TJ about stealing my money meant I’d have no choice but to face my other demons, the ones that I’d tried so hard to push away but that still surfaced sometimes, when an unfamiliar hand touched me with too much familiarity.

I couldn’t go home knowing that my personal demon was going to be there
.
Just before Nick and I had broken up, we’d been planning one of my very infrequent visits home to Louisiana because, no matter how much I warned him, he wanted to meet my family. And I’d wanted to meet my newest sibling, the eighth of us.

When I’d returned home for a quick trip before, I’d prodded TJ gently over the phone until he’d told me what I needed to know—when that person that I needed to avoid would be away. I’d only been able to handle the notion of the trip with them there because Nick could have been my buffer. No one would be able to touch me if I didn’t want them to, not with Nick by my side.