Fuck, this is good. Janelle’s lips tremble at first as I kiss her, but once my tongue slides into her mouth, I can feel her body melting against mine as she gives in to the physical sensations.No more overthinking, angel. I run my thumb over the outline of her jawline. She has a soft, round face and cupping her cheeks as I kiss her brings me physically closer to her.
The need travels. Janelle’s tongue gently teases mine back and my cock stiffens immediately. I want to move my hips away from her so she doesn’t spook like a hare, but she must be able to feel it. And there’s not enough space in here for me to move. Janelle’s tongue teasing mine back doesn’t make me want to stop. I keep holding her and as we kiss, her hands reach for my chest.
I’m sure she’s pushing me away, but I can’t accept it. I don’t want to accept it when she’s so fucking… soft. Is this why Gideon and Ruger went fucking crazy for a woman like this one? My hand drops from her face as temptation rises. My palm stops at my belt buckle as I consider doing something so much worse with this woman right where I have her.
The dark thought wraps itself around my mind and just as suddenly, an unfamiliar voice intrudes:Stop. Don’t hurt her, Zeb. You don’t have to hurt her.
I step back once away from her, struck by the sudden unfamiliar feeling that hurting Janelle wouldn’t feel good. It would feel like absolute torture to cause this woman any pain. I look at her like she’s a demon, and finding myself staring into her black eyes doesn’t make the feeling any better. She still looksscared, which helps with the unruly pounding in my chest at the sight of her, but I don’t have control here.
“That was a kiss,” Janelle mutters.
I look at her and want another one. So I take it. And she doesn’t stop me. We fall against the wall together and I kiss this woman like honey drips from her lips. My hard cock strains against my pants as we make out against the wall. I have to fight every urge to rip her clothes off.She’s fragile. You can’t hurt her, Zeb…
I kiss her until my lips hurt. My lips feel barely there compared to hers and the fullness of Janelle’s lips makes it even harder for me to pull away from them. But I must.
“I should go,” I tell her. “But if you’re ever in trouble, angel, I want you to call me.”
She looks up at me bewildered. Janelle knows deep down that I’m the trouble. Tall, tattooed, violent… and a damn good kisser. I’m the type of man everyone in her life would tell her to run in the opposite direction from. But I hope she doesn’t run.
“Give me your phone.”
She unlocks it with her thumb and hands it over. I type my number in and save it under the nameZeb, just so she won’t ever get in trouble for calling me.
“Zeb,” I whisper, running my thumb over her lips. “Just say my name and I’ll be there, angel.”
Chapter Six
Janelle
What happened to me last night?
I found Rana. I caught a rideshare home. I didn’t sleep at all. I counted sheep until I got to 1,345. The process almost drove me crazy, but it didn’t help me fall asleep and those stupid sheep didn’t chase Zebulon out of my head. It’s a name so Biblical that I wonder if he’s Mormon. He had that Old World handsomeness I associate with the Mormons out West, but maybe his skin was a little less pink.
The tattoos weren’t very Mormon. Neither was the liquor on his lips or the bar fighting. Maybe he reformed. Not like it would make any sense for me to pursue a man whose idea of reform was straying further away from morality.
I get some sleep the next night, but everything happened so fast that it takes me three days to process the fact that the same day I found out about my boyfriend cheating on me, I made out with a biker twice my size in a bar bathroom – and liked it. Unfortunately, a hot make out wasn’t enough to stop the cryingfrom boxing up all of Rakeem’s things and setting them up outside the apartment in neat piles.
When I texted him to come get everything he’d left, he didn’t even respond. He showed up, snatched the boxes, and left. I was at work when he came and when I returned there was just nothing but a hole shaped like him in my life. I don’t exactly miss him, but the hole is still there and I don’t want to dig into the painful emotions to unpack every memory that I knew now was a total lie.
I know I should let myself cry over Rakeem. I know it’s not healthy to bottle everything up and act like him cheating on me hasn’t affected me. It’s not that I’m trying to perform. As an LPN, I do all the hard work at the hospital and get none of the credit. I’m glad the doctor who groped my butt got fired, but work is still a nightmare. My feetalwayshurt. I don’t have a rich husband to give me a new pair of Hokas or a gigantic Stanley Cup. Or to take the load off.
When I’m not working, all I do is sleep. It’s all I can do, but it’s no way to live when I’m sad and lonely because the work and the solitude only make everything worse. Looking at everyone and their grandma living their best life on Instagram and TikTok drags me down further. I should be better than gazing into a phone screen waiting for my turn to happen, but I’m too tired to make anything happen. Life has finally beat me down – and I’m not even old yet.
Is this really as good as it gets? You work your ass off to barely afford your apartment, convince yourself that the only thing in this world is love, then the love you cherish so much cheats on you. That sucks. It sucks so bad that I just need my mind to wander away from that pain and towards…literally anything else.
Whenever my mind wanders, it strangely edges towards Zeb, and I have to pull myself away from the crazy, crazy thoughts.
It was a hot bathroom hookup – and he gave me his phone number because he’s insane. That’s it. I can’t read into every piece of chemistry I have with a man, even if it’s explosive like it was with Zeb.He’s fucking crazy, though.And what the hell would I be doing with a nutty ass white guy like that?
I saw the way he punched the guy who touched me like it was nothing. I watched him wash blood off of his hands without flinching. My throat tightens at the memory and I’m ashamed to say I feel a slight gush between my legs reminiscing at Zeb’s brutality. I could see in his neon blue eyes that he thrived on every ounce of violence at the bar. I’m surprised he didn’t bite me when he kissed me.
He was obviously riding a high that he didn’t want to come down from and I was convenient. Just like it was convenient for my ex-boyfriend to be with me and cheat on me. This was nothing more than that – men being opportunistic and selfish.
The only reason I remember Zeb is because I just don’t want to feel the grief from losing Rakeem. But it’s not a good reason to get involved with someone.
I have to focus on healing. There’s nothing that could make me call him up. I almost delete his number but it’s easier just to push him out of my head. My temptation to call up a stranger for no reason isn’t very high and having his number saved can’t hurt me. So I don’t delete it, but I don’t call either.
Two Weeks Later
