Ace of Spades (10 page)

Her
heart thundered in her ears as his arms pulled her closer, dragging her against
the hardness of his body. His arousal throbbed against her, hard and heavy with
need. The knowledge that she had that affect on him was enough to drive her
wild. His hands cupped the cheeks of her buttocks through the fabric of her
fitted pencil skirt as his mouth burned a trail of hard, wet kisses and love
bites down her neck. Jackson’s mouth trailed down her chest, following the bare
skin to the tops of her breasts.

“What
about Richard?” Melody gasped breathlessly.

“Dump
him. He’s all wrong for you anyway,” Jackson growled, resuming his sweet
assault on her tender flesh.

There
were a million reasons why Jackson was all wrong for her too, but Melody couldn’t
think of them right then, not when he touched her and kissed her like that.
Melody tossed her head back and released a low moan of pleasure as his mouth
closed around her tender nipple through the silk of her blouse. The ache in her
breasts mirrored the throbbing need building deep within her core. His mouth
worked its magic on first one breast, then the other, sucking and lapping in
slow, languorous circles around the hardened peaks.

Reaching
down to grasp his shaft through the soft fabric of his pants, Melody began to
slowly work her hand from tip to base and back, imitating the act her body pled
for. Jackson growled, leaning into her grip. His fingers searched for the
zipper at the back of her skirt, sliding it down and letting her skirt fall to
her feet.

Melody
kicked the fallen article of clothing from tangling with her heels. Jackson’s
hands were all over her.
Peeling her jacket off, stroking her
back beneath her silky blouse, and then cupping the bare, rounded cheeks of her
bottom.

Melody
explored his body in turn, her hands tracing the muscular lines of his abdomen,
chest and back. The length of his arousal pressed insistently against the
softness of her woman’s mound through the thin satin of her thong, teasing the
sensitive nub and leaving her aching for the feel of him moving deep within
her. She traced the lines of ink down his arms, stroking and savoring the feel
of his skin.

Her
fingers bumped over countless pinpoint scars, scattered haphazardly about his arms.
They brought Melody screaming back to reality. This was not the Jackson of her
childhood. This man was a promiscuous sex god.
A reckless
drug addict.

“J, have
you been tested?” she asked, arching her neck under the kisses he pressed to
her throat.

Jackson
stepped back, a quizzical expression on his handsome face. His blue eyes burned
with so much heat, Melody could’ve toasted marshmallows by their fire.
“For what?”

Melody
cleared her throat, feeling awkward and uncomfortable asking this of him after
what they’d been doing.
“For diseases.”

He
flinched as though she’d struck him
,
then an
inscrutable mask fell into place across his boyish features. “No.”

“Have
you thought about it?” She pressed. “I mean with your history…”

His dark
brows furrowed. “I can use a rubber.”

Melody
shook her head. “No, Jackson. I’d have to know you were clean.”

Storm
clouds of hurt and anger roiled in his eyes. “What the fuck, Mel? One minute,
you’re rubbing up on me like a cat in heat, the next you want to see my
pedigree to see if I’m good enough to fuck? Well, let me save you some time. I’m
not.”

Jackson
twisted away from her, stumbling from his bedroom toward the living area of the
bus. Mel watched the inked muscles of his back and shoulders bunch as he made
his hasty retreat. She could read the anger and frustration in their tension.
She longed to run after him and soothe the hurt she’d caused.

“Jackson
wait---” she called, but before she could don her rumpled skirt and chase after
him, the door banged shut behind him. He was gone.

Oh, no
. What
had she done?

Chapter 10

Sympathy
hand

Two days later

         
“Hey, Richard, I’m home,” Mel called as she stepped through the front door and tossed
her keys on the entry table. No answer. Strange, Richard’s car was parked up
front. “Richard?”

         
Richard’s solid frame filled the doorway between the dining room and front
room. He stood still as a statue, silent and ominous. But maybe she misread him…

         
In his hands, he held a plain white envelope and an enormous arrangement of
white daisies. Daisies were her favorite. She hadn’t realized he’d noticed.

         
Guilt twisted like a knife in her gut. She needed to tell him about the other
night with Jackson, especially before she headed out on the road for the next
eight months. But it would probably end their two year relationship.

         
She’d never thought herself to be the cheating kind. And the reality of her
mistake made it hard for her to look herself in the mirror. Sure, Richard was
an ass a lot of the time and their relationship was probably on its way out
anyway. But she expected more of herself.

         
She’d let her old feelings for Jackson control her. Even worse, she’d let her
hormones control her. But it had been a momentary lapse in judgment, a mistake,
nothing more.

         
Now how the hell was she supposed to explain that to Richard? Especially when
he’d brought her flowers for the first time in, well, ever?   

         
“Ah, honey, you shouldn’t have,” she smiled, stepping forward to accept the
flowers from him.

         
Richard wrenched away, holding the flowers just beyond her reach. “What the
hell is this, Mel?”

         
Confused, Melody chewed her lower lip and studied his face, trying to figure
what game he played. Tension contorted his handsome features, his mouth tight
and angry as he glared at her with dark, brooding eyes.

         
Brows raised, she gaped back in wide-eyed confusion. “What on earth are you
talking about, Richard?”

         
“I’m talking about these, you disgusting whore,” Richard snarled, pitching the
arrangement at the wall behind her. The flowers soared just past her shoulder,
striking the wall with a sad
thunk
before
dropping to the floor.

         
“I-I-I thought they were from you,” she stammered, her pride and heart
stinging. He’d called her a
whore
. Even if he knew about the other
night, he had
no
right to speak to her that way.

         
“Do I look like the kind of man who gives shitty ass flowers like these to his
woman?” Richard
asked,
his voice low and hard. “No.
Men like me have more class than that. You’d think after two years together,
you’d realize that.”

         
Oh, she knew the kind of man he was alright. Richard was the kind of man who
never gave her flowers. He was the kind of man who took her for granted. He was
the kind of man who didn’t care what she wanted. But Mel thought better of
picking
that
fight. He was already mad as hell at her. Better not push
her luck.

         
“Who are they from, Mel?” he demanded.

         
Melody shrugged. “How should I know? I thought they were from you. They could
be from my mother for all I know.”

         
“Bullshit,” he
growled,
his voice and eyes filled with
accusation. “I thought I’d give you a chance to come clean on your own, but I
guess you lost your sense of honesty around the same time you gave up on
fidelity.”

         
Mel paused. Come clean? Did he know about Jackson? Then again… what was there
to know? It’s not like they’d done anything. Well, they’d
almost
…
But almost only counted in horse shoes and hand grenades.
It
had been a mistake. That was all.
One steamy, toe-curling
mistake.
Melody shook off the delicious memory.

         
She’d planned to tell Richard about her little slip up on the tour bus, but
hadn’t found the right opening. He was so hostile when it came to Jackson, she
just couldn’t find a way to tell him without him losing his mind. Insane
jealousy didn’t bode well for temporary lapses in fidelity, no matter how
misbegotten.

         
“Richard,” Melody soothed. “It’s not what you think.”

         
Richard
laughed,
a dark bark of bitter amusement. “Cut
the shit. It’s exactly what I think it is, Mel. You’re fucking that worthless
piece of trash, Black Jack, behind my back.”

         
Melody gaped at him, her mouth pursed in a small ‘o.’

         
Richard took her stunned silence as an admission of guilt. “See? You can’t even
deny it,” he railed, his face flushed with anger.

         
“I’m not sleeping with Jackson, Richard,” Melody defended quietly.

         
“Then why the hell is the bastard sending you a copy of his lab results?”
Richard raged, tossing the envelope to the floor at her feet. Melody resisted
the urge to pick them up.
Jackson got tested?

         
“Good news, Melody,” Richard snarled. “You dodged a bullet this time. No HIV or
Hep
C. No Gonorrhea, Chlamydia, Herpes, or Syphilis
either. Not a dice I’d gamble with, but what the hell, he’s worth it, right?
Women would do anything to fuck a rock star.”

         
Relief filled her. Jackson was clean. After all the shared needles and careless
sex, it was no small miracle he hadn’t contracted something. Mel glanced at the
envelope on the floor, once again tempted to scoop it up.

         
Richard saw and it only made him angrier. “Don’t bother. I can tell you exactly
what it says. It says that worthless son of a bitch has managed to cheat
nature, just as he cheated justice.

         
“Oh, and to top it all off, there’s a cheesy note. ‘I’d do anything to be the
man you see in me, Mel. Take this proof and keep it with my heart. Love, J.’”

         
Melody closed her eyes at his words. She didn’t want Richard to see how they
affected her. When Jackson had stormed out of the bus, he’d been hurt and angry
by her request. Yet, he still did it.
For her.

         
“How long has this been going on, Mel?”

         
Shaking her head slightly from side to side, Mel answered in a low, measured
tone. “I already told you, it hasn’t.”

         
“Stop lying to me,” Richard shouted, shaking with rage. His hand crashed into
the side of her face in a brutal backhand, the force of the blow jerking her
head back and to the side. The left side of her face exploded with pain as she
tumbled to the ground.

         
Melody cradled her aching face in her hand and glared up at her boyfriend. He’d
hit her. The son of a bitch had actually hit her. In their two years together,
they’d had their share of issues, but Richard had never raised a finger to her.
The pain of the physical blow paled in comparison to the emotional pain of his
abuse. Even if they could work through their Jackson drama, she’d never be able
to trust him again, never feel safe with him again.

         
“I’m not lying,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “We made out a little.
Once.
It was a huge mistake and I stopped things before they
got too far.”

         
Richard raked her over the black-hot coals of his eyes. “So, let me get this
straight. You let that piece of trash shove his tongue down your throat, let
him put his grubby hands all over you, and I’m supposed to be okay with it? No
way in hell.” He spit at her, the wad of saliva landing on her face. “You
disgust me.”

         
Swiping his spittle from her face, Melody slowly rose to her feet. “It’s over,
Richard.”

         
“Yeah?” he scoffed. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out,
sweetheart.”

         
Shaking with hurt and rage, Melody ignored him and headed into their bedroom.
She stuffed a small duffel bag with clothes and the bare essentials. She’d have
to come back for the rest of her stuff when Richard wasn’t home. No way was she
taking the time to pack it up now, with him glaring daggers and wishing her
dead with his eyes.

         
Richard watched her in silence, his dark eyes following her as she moved about
their apartment. She crouched to retrieve the envelope he’d tossed to the
floor, flinching when he moved toward her.

         
Melody squared her shoulders back and faced him head on as she rose to her
feet. He towered over her, a dark mountain of bristling, righteous indignation.
She wondered how she’d ever believed herself in love with him. Sure, he was
handsome and successful, but truth be told, he was an ass. She’d always known
that. Everyone deserved love and respect. Why did she always sell herself
short?

         
“Goodbye, Richard.”

         
“Bye, Mel,” he said, his voice rough with anger. “I hope you know what you’re
doing. That asshole has a one-way ticket on the runaway train to hell and you’re
climbing right on board. He’s circling the drain fast. I won’t be around to say
I told you so when he drags you down with him, but know I’ll be laughing all
the same.”

         
Melody turned her back on him and his hateful words. Snatching her keys and
purse, she stormed out of the apartment and down the stairs to the street where
she’d parked her car. Tossing her duffel onto the passenger seat, she climbed
in and buckled up. A few deep breaths did little to clear her vision. Though it
was difficult to see with her left eye swollen nearly shut, it was the tears
flooding her eyes that made it near impossible. Clutching her throbbing head in
her hands, she let the tears flow. Damn it. What had she done? Where would she
go?