Hopelessly Yours (11 page)

"You're safe with me," Jace cut in, his voice strong and fierce. “No matter what.”

I should have backed up and gone to my mother, but something in his voice calmed me. Despite what he'd done, some part of me knew he'd protect me.

"Tell me where you are, Vix."

I
'd lived my whole life managing my hatred towards the old woman. The woman that I wasn't allowed to call ‘Grandma’.

It used to sting when she hit me with her words, and after a box of wine was down her throat, sometimes an object. But looking at her now, standing in between me and the exit, standing between me and Vix, a fire hotter than the sun boiled in my veins.

I struggled to keep my voice steady. "Get the hell out of my way."

"And just where do you think you're going, boy?" She didn't budge an inch, crossing her arms.

I opened my mouth to tell her it was none of her goddamn business, but I stalled as I sized up the woman in front of me. Same frail stature, just barely five feet with coal colored eyes. Same twisted scowl that seemed to be permanently nailed to her face when she looked at me. Same uniform, the drab combination like a second skin. But something was different.

Since when did she care if I came or went? Did she catch something and suddenly gave a shit about me? I tightened my jaw. It was too late for that. Nineteen years too late.

"I'm not gonna say it again. Get. The. Fuck—"

"You're going after that girl, aren't you?" Her voice dripped with disdain. "That rich bitch?"

I strode forward, murder carving up every word. "Don't you
ever
call her that. You don't know a damn thing about her!"

"I know she's a dumb ass bitch who better keep her mouth shut if she knows what's best for her." The old woman let out a scoff of disgust. "Tommy called and asked if she called you, and obviously she did. She should have been calling Macone, promising everything; silence, her pussy—"

I saw nothing but red. Heard nothing but the crack of wood as I split the remaining distance between me and the barrier—and punched the door beside her head.

"You know about Macone?" I growled.

Her voice wavered. "Of course I know about Macone."

She was pale as a ghost, eyes full of fear and shards of pain like I'd actually hit her. The sad thing was as terrible as she'd been to me all my life, all the things said and thrown at me, I still could never hit her—yet she was glaring up at me like she expected it. Like
I
was the fucking monster. But she was the monster. Grandmothers were supposed to root for their grandkids. Spoil them. Point them toward their dreams. Look out for them.

My fist radiated pain from my knuckles that ricocheted all over my body, but it didn't compare to the fire in my chest. Her words seared a hole right through me. It ended any delusion that I might have held on to that somewhere, deep inside, she cared about me.

She knew about Macone. Unless she had a death wish, she wouldn't have mentioned his name to me unless she knew it all.

Her face shifted, the smug degradation returning to the hell pit that was her eyes. "This family has worked for the Macones since your grandfather." She made the sign of the cross. "God rest his soul." She raised her chin. She was barely half my height, but that look lowered me every time. That look turned me back into the scrawny kid I used to be. "The only worthwhile thing you’ve ever done is that job, and you're gonna throw it all away?"

"Are you serious?" I didn't need an answer. One look at her grave expression was all the answer I needed. "All these years I wanted you to notice me. To be proud of me. And you're saying that me working for Macone makes you proud?" I felt sick. Looking at her, breathing the same air she did, made me physically ill. "You know the things I've done. The people I've—" I stopped. I wasn't making any more excuses for her...or waiting for a love she was incapable of giving.

I narrowed my gaze, all the mismatched pieces clicking together. She was just an obstacle to happiness. The root of the reason why I didn't believe I was worth a damn. That I didn't deserve happiness. And she was standing in the way yet again—blocking me from going to the one person in the world that I cared about.

"You're gonna get out of my way, or I'll get you out of my way."

She arched an eyebrow in disbelief, but her chin trembled. "You wouldn't."

I wouldn't hit her, or any woman—but she didn't know me. She was so proud of me working for Macone; I'd rub her face in what that entailed.

"I beat a man until my fists were saturated in his blood. That was business. Knocking out a woman I've hated all of my life?" I smiled down at her cruelly, relishing the way she trembled. "That would be a pleasure."

She dove out of my way with an agility that should have been impossible for a woman her age. I didn't look back, plowing toward my car. Speed limit, traffic laws, none of it mattered. It should have taken half an hour to get to Victoria. I pulled into the Motel 6 parking lot in fifteen minutes.

I parked beside her Sonata, and my heart seized in my chest. Her head was trained to the front, hands locked on the steering wheel. It wasn't until I tapped on her window that she moved, jumping out of her skin and recoiling like I was going to hurt her. When she realized it was me, she leapt out of the car and into my arms.

For the briefest moment, the selfish need inside me was appeased. Happy that my girl was back where she belonged. But as sobs rocked through her body and splintered through me, that was put on the back burner. She was terrified.

And it was all my fault.

I held her as guilt ravaged me. If she had never come to visit me, if I never confessed about Benton, about the life I led, maybe she'd be where
she
belonged. Far away from the shit that went bump in the night. Out of danger.

"This is on me," I said gravely. "I'm so sorry, Victoria."

She raised her head from my chest, glaring at me. "Don't even think about it, Jace." She took a step backward, hand on her hip. I'd seen that look before. When we were first paired up in US History and she told me that I would pull my weight—or else. When she squared off with Josh. She took no prisoners. "I don't want to hear you say that you don't deserve me ever again. Yes, you did something really bad and—" she froze, her lips quivering. "I'm not ready to face what that means just yet. But what happened in that back room, what almost happened to me...that's not on you."

Her face softened as she drew back toward me, gazing into my eyes. She'd seen the worst of me and she still cared about me. Her love was a beautiful gift. If I were the crying type, it would have brought tears to my eyes.

"I called you because I know that no matter what, you'll protect me. Just like I'd do anything to protect you."

Her words made a liar of me. I thought I had nothing left. That life and my grandmother had ripped everything away. That I'd lost Victoria forever. But here she was. Close enough to hold. To kiss. And God, I wanted to kiss her.

Her eyes flickered to my lips, then back up to my eyes. I saw the challenge. The desire.

I wanted nothing more than to take charge, possess her lips. Her body and her soul. But she'd just witnessed a murder. Had a gun pointed at her face. If she ever let me kiss her again, I wanted it to be because she couldn't stand to be without me—not because she—

"Fuck it."

She fisted the front of my shirt and brought my lips crashing to hers. Her tongue thrust into my mouth, slick and hot as she dueled with me. Which one of us had been craving this the most? From the way we pulled and clutched each other like we were alone and not in a motel parking lot, it was a toss up.

My eyes popped open just in time to meet her wide blue ones. Macone would know about her by now and would be out looking to tie up the loose end.

The fear returned to her voice. "What do we do now?"

"We'll park around back." I pushed a hand through my hair, laying out the game plan. "To be honest, you picked a great place. He won't expect you to hole up at a motel." I cocked my head toward the front entrance. "I'll go grab a room and come back out to get you."

She nodded and sprung into action. I waited until her car disappeared before I strode to the front office. Me, Vix, and a hotel room. My cock approved, but I ignored it.

I had to keep her safe. That was my top priority.

I
had turned bad decision making into an art. My first was thinking that I could see Jace and talk without being swayed by our attraction. Mistake two was waiting around after I realized something sketchy was happening at the gas station. Mistake three was hanging out at a motel with a guy who was involved with the very people that were after me.

My eyes flickered to the bed, and the familiar heat stirred between my thighs. When I met Jace’s gaze, I knew he was thinking the same thing I was.

Hello, mistake number four...

I clutched on to something, anything other than the arousal that turned the air into an electric, lusty thing. I took stock of our hideout. The yellow wallpaper and the dusty watercolor painting, hung with anything but care. The shabby side table with a little placard that said no smoking but was obviously just for show since the room had the musty, acrid stench of cigarettes. The box TV took me back to visits to my grandfather. Even though tobacco made him wealthy, you’d have to pry his rabbit ears from his cold, dead hands. And the bed—it seemed to glitter, an angelic choir singing its praises.

I took a step toward it and stopped. I was clearly in shock. Why else was I straddling the mattress and batting my eyelashes at Jace? Baiting him, begging him to pick up where we left off in his bedroom before my world fell apart?

His gaze fucked me. Stripped off all my clothes and pounded me into oblivion, but the rest of him kept its distance. “I don’t know if now is the right time, Vix.”

“I’m dead when Macone finds out where we are.” Nausea whipped through me as I swept my legs around, sinking into the lumpy mattress. Facing our fate. “He’ll probably make you watch, then do things to you that would make you wish you were dead.”

His face darkened. “I won’t let them touch you.”

I parted my lips, but no words came out. My heart was a swollen, bleeding thing that screamed sweet nothings. This guy would take on Macone, hell, the whole world to protect me. Maybe he was a monster, but he was
my
monster.

My brain took a vacation, overloaded with all of the things that led us to now. And my core? It couldn’t stop devouring Jace, inch by beautiful inch. Remembering how right it felt to be with him in the most intimate way you could be with someone. I locked my eyes on his, making up my mind. If this was my last day on Earth, I wanted to have him one last time.

The last time we kissed, I was swept up in passion, my fingers shaking, a current of want unsteadying me. The same desires rocked through me now, powerful and consuming, but this time I welcomed it with arms wide open. Each button was undone slowly, holding his gaze, slipping the plastic through the tight hole, sighing as I exposed more and more of my flesh. His eyes stroked me hungrily and he took a step toward the bed, then stopped like he hit an invisible wall.

“We can’t...we shouldn-”

The T disappeared when my shirt hit the bed. Only the bra and my skirt were left now. The parts of me that knew where Jace and I belonged had pushed me to be more creative with what was underneath. I wore a lacy black bra and panties that barely covered my juicy center. A juicy center that was dripping wet, beckoning him to touch and taste what he did to me.

I gripped both sides of my skirt, but he strode forward, desire hot in his eyes.

“Let me.”

He’d hear no complaints from me.

I hitched a breath as he held a hand toward me and as soon as we touched, I melted into him. Just feeling his fingers interlaced with mine was foreplay, his touch whispering against my palm like he was exploring me. Opening me up and finding the secret I’d held close all these years. No one could make me feel the way Jace could. From the first moment we touched, he’d branded me. It was me and Jace, forever.

His fingertips traced my bare skin, leaving a rush of goose bumps in their wake. My arms became an erogenous zone, calling out for more, my shoulders arching. My neck craned toward his touch. He lingered, then tipped my chin upward with a single finger. His eyes bored into mine. My bra, my skirt, and my panties were pointless because his gaze stripped me down. He whispered the words I’d been dying to hear from the moment he walked away.

“I love you, Victoria. I never stopped loving you.”

And then he kissed me. I threw my arms around his neck, my tongue dueling with his, both of us wanting all of the other. More. His arms roped around me, fingers expertly unclasping my bra. My skirt was pulled off, my underwear the only thing that remained until I took a breath and realized he was wearing entirely too much clothing.

I lunged for his shirt, but his hands had other plans first. He gripped my breasts, sending jolts of pleasure through me that made me croon a song that was ours alone.

I looked down, his olive colored skin stark against my pale flesh, his powerful fingers flicking and tugging my nipples until I begged for more.

He released my nipples, my peaks bruised pink rocks. He tore off his wife beater. His chest was muscled perfection, sweaty and delicious. I ran my eyes over every contour, every defined square of abs. My eyes hit his waistband, the Calvin Klein stitching peeking out from under his jeans. My smile broadened when I saw the hardened imprint of his cock.

He reached for my hand and brought it to his erection. “See what you do to me?”

I brought my eyes back to him as I stroked him, loving the way his eyes rolled back in his head like he’d been dying for my touch.

“Mmhm.” I unbuttoned his jeans, pulling down the zipper nice and slow. Before he could get the next word out, I was on my knees.

I held him steady with one hand, marveling at how thick he was, how he pulsed in my hand. I leaned in, smelling his musk; like soap, sweat, and something sweet and uniquely Jace.