Say You're Mine Read online

  I suck in deep breaths. Every one of those words has been bubbling inside me for weeks now. Honestly, I can’t believe I’m not crying. Anger, apparently, is the winning emotion. The tears I’m holding back are threatening, but I won’t do it. I need answers.

  When he just stares at me like he has no clue what to say, my resolve crumbles. My anger dissipates. Now this is just defeat.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask quietly. A tear escapes. “I thought we were at least friends. One minute, you’re being nice to me, and the next . . . if you didn’t want to have a drink with me, I would have understood, but . . .”

  Before I can finish, his lips are on mine, silencing my words.

  This kiss is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s hot and it’s desperate, but it’s also controlled and firm. It’s everything.

  Before I can sink into it, he pulls away as quickly as it happened.

  “You think I wanted to hurt you? You don’t think I know how much I hurt you? Fuck, Annabelle, however much you’re hurting, multiply that by 100, baby, because that’s what I’ve felt since I first laid eyes on you.”

  I’m stunned.

  He’s hurting?

  He wants me?

  Did he just call me “baby”?

  “I don’t understand.”

  He takes my shoulders and looks down at me. Our eyes are connected, like we both know that these words are the most important we’ll ever say to each other.

  “Since the moment I saw you, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you. Want to know why I didn’t talk to you when you first started working at the coffee shop? Because I didn’t trust myself around you. And my world is not one you should be a part of. I’m not a good man, Annabelle. I’ve done things I’m not proud of and you are too good—too pure—to be around some asshole like me. Me acting the way I did? That was for your own good. You deserve someone way better than me.”

  “My own good? What gives you the right to decide what is right for me?”

  “I don’t have the right! But see? That’s me. I’m a selfish bastard. I kept coming in to see you, because I couldn’t fucking stay away. I pulled over tonight because the thought of you alone at night drove me fucking insane. But I know I can’t have you! Me throwing away the coffee cup? That was me throwing away the temptation of calling you. You are a fucking temptress, Annabelle, and I can’t stay away.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  Our lips clash in a frenzy. I didn’t know a kiss could be more desperate than the one he gave me just minutes ago, but somehow, this is.

  We are nothing but lips and tongues and hands grabbing whatever we can to be closer to each other. I’m on my toes to reach him, which apparently isn’t enough, because before I know it, he’s picked me up and has me pinned against the door. I instinctively wrap my legs around him, loving the feel of how close we are.

  My hands go around the back of his neck, holding on tight, but also knowing that he won’t let me fall. At least not this way.

  At some point the kiss slows, but it’s still filled with need. He has one hand underneath me to hold me up, but the other begins trailing up my body, brushing the side of my breast. Just this small touch is enough to do me in, and I arch into his touch. Like he already knows how to make my body sing, he brings his hand back down to lift up my shirt, and guides the same hand back up, only this time to take me in his hand.

  I’ve always hated my chest. I’m one of those girls who’s petite everywhere. But Jaxson doesn’t seem to care. The way he’s massaging my breast and playing with my nipple is turning me on in ways I didn’t know possible.

  “Jaxson . . .” I say in a breathy moan. I’d needed air, and as soon as I had it, his name was the only thing I could say.

  I wish I hadn’t. With the sound of his name, it’s like I’ve snapped him out of a trance. Before I know it, he’s putting me down and backing away.

  “No, Jaxson, don’t go. Please don’t go.” I’m grabbing for him. I’m desperate. I can’t let him leave.

  “I can’t, Annabelle. I can’t do this to you. This was a mistake. Stay away from me, and I’ll stay away from you. It’s for the best.”

  He turns and walks back to his bike like the last hour didn’t happen.

  And I’m left standing in front of my building—turned on, confused, and heartbroken knowing I’ll never forget the last hour of my life.

  16

  Jaxson

  My fists are flying like I took speed before a fight. The combinations are exiting my body without much thought behind them.

  1-2-5-2 . . .

  1-2-3-2 . . .

  I’m not thinking; I’m just going on adrenaline. I don’t even know who the fuck my sparring partner is, and unfortunately, I don’t feel bad for the bastard who’s taking the brunt of my frustration.

  Since last night, I haven’t been able to think of anything but Annabelle. Her lips—God, they tasted sweeter than I thought they would. Her skin was so fucking soft. Her body. Shit, her body was fucking made for me. How perfectly it fit against me when I had her pinned against the door. Just like I had imagined.

  I had no right to kiss her like that. God, I wanted to take her inside her apartment and claim her. Make her mine.

  But I have no business even thinking that. I had my taste of her. That will have to be enough.

  1-6-3-2 . . .

  The last combination knocks my sparring partner into the ropes, and before he can get his balance, he falls to the canvas. Blood is dripping from the corner of his mouth and he looks like he’s seeing three of me.

  Fuck.

  I just stand in the ring, silently berating myself. I never get that intense with a sparring partner, especially one I’ve never gone rounds with. But today I just needed someone to go against; a bag wasn’t going to do. Stupid kid said he could hang.

  “Jaxson! Fuck, man. Get the fuck out of the ring. Now.”

  I don’t trust myself inside the ropes anymore, so I listen to Reggie and climb out. As soon as I find the bench, I hang my head with my elbows on my knees.

  I don’t get out of control like that anymore. Those punch sequences I’m pretty sure I was throwing? Those were from my fighting days—when I had one job, and that was to leave my opponent on his ass.

  “When you pull yourself together, I’ll meet you in your office and you can tell me why you almost killed one of our clients.”

  Reggie walks away and I don’t even bother arguing with him. I know he’s right. I can’t be in the ring, or hell, even in public, when I’m worked up like this.

  Maybe I need a few days away. Clear my head. Take the bike and just ride. Put some space between myself and the temptation of Annabelle and all things that remind me of her.

  It’s not like I have anything keeping me here. Reggie could watch the gym for a few days. Kalum and Maverick wouldn’t question it if I said I needed to get away. I don’t see my mom as much as I should, so I doubt she’d even know I was gone.

  Yes, that’s what I’m going to do. Maybe putting a few days, and a few hundred miles, between us is what I need to kick my Annabelle habit. Because after just one taste, I became addicted.

  When I walk into my office, Reggie is already sitting, legs kicked up on my desk.

  “Want to tell me why you were throwing punch combinations meant to put someone in the ER?”

  I take a seat across from him, knowing I’m about to hate whatever conversation he wants to have with me.

  “I wasn’t trying to kill a client; I just got carried away. I’ll go apologize to him. Give him a month free considering I busted his lip open.”

  Reggie just stares at me. He knows I’m deflecting. We might have only known each other for a few years, but the man can read me like a book.

  “How about you try that again? Why were you fighting like you wanted to kill someone?”

  I sigh. While I’m not exactly a guy who talks about feelings and shit, Reggie might be the only person I know who migh
t get what’s going through my head. Kalum and Mav, though we grew up in the same shit neighborhood and all at some point served time, are eternal bachelors who are all about fast cars and faster women.

  “Do you ever think you’re not good enough for Lisa?”

  This makes him chuckle, and though it doesn’t answer his question, he gets that this is how I need to begin.

  “Every day, man. Every fucking day.”

  We sit in silence for a bit—neither of us quite knowing what to say, or how to say it.

  “Did I ever tell you how I met Lisa?”

  I shake my head.

  “It was the day I got out of prison.”

  Damn. I didn’t know it was that quick. I just knew that in the three months I didn’t talk to him between our release dates, he went from a single guy talking about how many girls he was going to fuck when he got out, to being completely pussy-whipped.

  “I pulled petty crime shit all my life. Never got caught. Honestly, it was more about the rush than actually needing whatever I was grabbing—that is, until I got bold and tried to break into the safe at the bank I worked at. I wasn’t a bad guy, but I wasn’t one you brought home to mom, you know?”

  I nod my head, relating to that statement more than he probably realizes.

  “The day I got out, I didn’t know who I was. Yeah, you and I were talking about opening this place up, and I didn’t feel like a bad guy, but it hit me when I drove away from prison that I was officially an ex-con. I ended up at this diner and I don’t know how long I just sat there, really thinking about stuff.”

  He takes his feet off the desk and sits up straighter. But as he does, he smiles the smile he has when he talks about his wife.

  “I was so in my head I didn’t even notice Lisa when she took my order at first. Later, she asked me if I wanted another cup, and something about her voice made me look up. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, and that wasn’t because I had just done three years with a bunch of dudes.”

  We chuckle.

  “We talked her entire shift. Basic shit. Some flirting. But at some point, I realized she didn’t know me as an ex-con. She knew me as me: the person I wanted to be. Eventually, I told her about my past, because I knew I wanted a future with her. She made me want more than I ever thought I deserved, and she showed me that I deserved happiness, in spite of my past.”

  I nod, his words hitting me in the gut.

  “Did she treat you differently when you told her about your past?”

  “Honestly, she had an idea. I’d told her I didn’t grow up in the best neighborhood, so I think she suspected. But she told me, without a doubt, that as long as I left that life behind me, she’d help me keep it there.”

  I let his words sink in. He makes it seem so easy. Honestly, Lisa is great, and his two kids are awesome. And he’s happy. Content.

  And honestly? I’m jealous as fuck.

  I want that. The wife. The family. The something to come home to every night. The little boy I could teach to throw a football and the little girl I could scare boys away from.

  But could I really have it?

  “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, man, but I see the way you look at Annabelle when she comes in. I see that look in your eye. I don’t know why you haven’t made a move, or what’s holding you back, but if you listen to anything I’ve ever said to you, listen to this: you control your future. No one else. Nothing in your past has to dictate your tomorrow. So the question is: what are you going to do about it?”

  He gets up, leaving his final words to settle, and walks out of the office.

  I know he’s right. He’s so fucking right.

  Now I just need to man up and do something about it.

  17

  Annabelle

  “Whoa, girl. What did that counter ever do to you?

  Tori’s words startle me, but then I realize I’ve been wiping down the same spot for I don’t even know how long.

  Sadly, this isn’t the first time this week she’s had to do that.

  It’s been four days since Jaxson kissed me. Four days since I felt his lips on mine. Four days since I felt his rough hands hold me like I’ve never been held before.

  He’s kept his word about staying away from me. I’ve only been to The Pit once, and he wasn’t there. He hasn’t come in for coffee.

  “It’s for the best.”

  Those are the words that have been rolling over in my head every minute of every day. What does that even mean? It’s not like we tried to date and it didn’t work out. Hell, I barely know anything about him!

  I was sad the day after. I called Tori, she brought over ice cream, and I got all my tears out—you know, the tears I said I’d never cry for him again.

  Now I’m back to being angry. And apparently I’m taking it out on our café counters.

  “Maybe we should go out tonight? I can cancel my date. Maybe you just need a night to dance it off?”

  I put down the rag and look at my best friend. I know she’s been excited for this date all week. Just because I’m miserable doesn’t mean she has to be.

  “No, you go. I’m fine. I’m off tomorrow. I’ll go to the gym really early, take all this out on a heavy bag, and be good as new.”

  “Are you sure? Because chicks over dicks. All day every day. I would totally canc—”

  Tori’s words trail off as her eyes go wide. She’s facing the door, and I can’t imagine who could be walking in to make her go speechless like that.

  Her eyes beg for me to turn around, and I’m not expecting who I see standing in the doorway.

  Jaxson.

  We’re about ready to close, but it was slow tonight, so everyone has already taken off. It’s just Tori and me . . . and now the man who has been haunting my dreams.

  The only noise in the café is the soft music we always play and the hum of the machines we haven’t turned off yet. I don’t know why he’s here. Wasn’t he the one who said he needed to stay away?

  Nope. Fuck this. He can’t keep coming around and screwing with my heart. It’s not fair to me.

  “You need to leave.”

  My words shock both Tori and Jaxson. They shock me too. I’ve never been this outspoken, but this roller coaster he keeps putting me on has to stop, and apparently, it’s made me say what’s on my mind.

  “Annabelle, I want to talk.”

  “What do you want to tell her?” Tori has now taken a slight step in front of me. Always my defender.

  “That’s between Annabelle and me. I want to explain. I need . . . I need to talk to her.”

  I can hear the hesitation in his voice. It’s almost like he’s scared. But between how he’s looking at me, and the words I know were so hard for him to say, I feel my resolve crumbling.

  A chirp breaks the silence: a text on Tori’s phone.

  “Fuck. It’s Andrew. He’ll be here in five minutes.”

  I look at her, then him. His eyes—those deep brown eyes—are all but begging me for this. And I’m not strong enough to deny him that.

  “It’s okay. Go. I want to hear what he has to say.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Go. I’ll call you later.”

  Tori grabs her purse from behind the counter and marches to the door, but stops in front of him before she leaves.

  “This is your last chance, asshole. If I find her crying again tonight, you will lose body parts. You hear me?”

  He nods, but doesn’t promise anything. I think we both know that’s a promise neither of us can keep.

  Tori exits the shop, leaving Jaxson and me staring at each other. He eyes a table, and we go to sit. I refuse to speak first. He came here. This is on him.

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  At least he broke the silence first.

  “Tell me why you’re here.”

  He sighs and takes a breath, gathering the strength to say his next words.

  “When I told you I’m not a go
od man, Annabelle, I’m not. I come from the South Side, and I was in and out of trouble my whole life. Real trouble . . . I’ve done hard time. And I’m a fighter. I’ve fought since I was a teenager.”

  “I know you’re a fighter, Jaxson. I don’t have to know boxing to tell you’re very good at it.”

  He grabs my hands, and I let him. I can tell he needs this, and I want to be the one to give it to him.

  “When I was a kid, my dad started teaching me to fight. Just the basics. But then he started setting me up to fight with guys at this gym, and I liked it. I felt like a badass. Pretty soon, he started taking me to fights. He was always making bets and talking to people, and for me that was normal. I thought it was cool. Then I started fighting in those fights. And I won. I always won. Which I didn’t find odd because I knew I was good.”

  He trails off. I don’t know how many times he’s told this story, but I have a feeling I’m one of the few to ever hear it.

  “One day, I overheard my dad on the phone. Stan’s his name. I heard him talking about fixing my fight . . . saying that I was too dumb to realize what was going on. He was fixing my fights, Annabelle. He was using me for his illegal gambling and taking bad bets because he was rigging the outcome without my knowing.”

  I squeeze his hand. I know that I hit the lottery when it came to parents, so it’s hard to fathom how a dad could use his son like that.

  “I was furious. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I was winning that entire time. I didn’t know what was real anymore. Then, before my next fight, I confronted him about it. Told him I knew he was fixing fights and that I was out. I was done. He could find someone else to make money off of; it wasn’t going to be me. I walked away, Annabelle. I told my dad to go fuck himself and I got on my bike and left.”

  I bring his hands to my lips, not knowing what to say, but needing to show him how proud I am of him. Not just for leaving that world, but for sharing this with me.