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He grabbed my hand from my lap and pulled it towards him. "I just asked you to marry me and you're jealous? Over somebody you've never even met?"
I had to scoot closer to keep from falling over. "I don't know why I said it. This isn't supposed to be about me."
He kept pulling until he had my hand behind his back. I was cinched to his side by his unrelenting grip. "Sit in my lap." He ordered.
I climbed up on his legs.
"Facing me." He directed, and released my hand so I could turn to straddle him.
Jake's flat eyes stared up at me. "Now, kiss me."
I leaned down. He didn't move at all, didn't lean in or close his eyes. He just let me plant a soft peck on his stilled mouth. I retracted, my heart pounding at his non-response.
He sighed, taking a long blink, setting his hands at my neck. There was a challenge in his eyes when he opened them. "That's not doing it for me."
I felt tears pricking at the backs of my eyes and blinked, focusing on the way Jakes gaze was suddenly blazing with the dark fire I loved. My heartbeat slowed and kicked up again, not with fear or irritation, but with desire. The man had me thrumming on all cylinders with a simple look.
"What do you want?"
One side of his mouth quirked up, though his expression remained serious. "The world is full of beautiful girls, Angel. California is said to have the most. I've heard the songs, so I know."
He tilted his head. "It's not easy to be the one waiting for me to give you the attention you deserve. I'm sorry you have to do that." He palmed my cheek. "But that is part of what I do and I need you to understand. None of those girls matter to me. You're my beauty, my everything, my soon-to-be wife. So fucking act like it." He smacked my backside. "That's what I want."
35
-Angel
Clanging metal echoes off the walls of my cell as the door closes. The mattress at my back is so thin; it's feels as if I'm lying directly on the unforgiving metal frame. The sides of my throat stick on each swallow. Today's session has left it parched and sore.
When my dinner is delivered, I thank the guard on the other side of the small window. I'm thinking of Avery-probably sitting in a corner somewhere, curled up and quiet, resolutely present even though I can't see her-as I walk over to the open bathroom area to shovel the shit they call food into the toilet and flush.
I don't want to think about food. I want to stay inside that room with Jake, holding him. But there is no way I am going to give up that night. I'll tell them anything else. Everything. Except my last good night.
I can hear his soft, sweet voice in my ears, feel his touch.
+++
"So fucking act like it." Jake smacked my backside. "That's what I want."
The room was quiet as I contemplated. What was Jake trying to tell me? He wasn't threatening to dump me for another woman. He didn't even mention that other guitarist chick.
I was the one who thought about her all the time. I was the one who brought her up and made him angry. Jake wasn't trying to segue into asking for a threesome, or any other stupid demeaning thing like I always feared he would. So what was he trying to tell me? What was I doing wrong?
"Angel," he spoke softer, kneading my stinging rump. "I think we can both concede that you're a complex woman. I've never pretended to fully understand you, but you have always understood me, baby. I need you to do that for me, right now. Understand that what I'm feeling isn't about anyone but me, and give me what I need. Please."
I looked into his wide hazel eyes and something clicked. Jake was commanding me to have confidence in him and his love for me. He was telling me to believe in myself and in us, because he couldn't always be the one to do it. He needed me to rise up and be for him what he was for me: solace, a place to rest.
Jakes' life-his choices-they were exhausting. Being in his band meant he was constantly chasing-whether it was a song, a moment, a performance, or an audience-he was actively seeking to make his dreams a reality. And Jake was the one who chased me most of the time. He loved doing it, it was in his nature, but he needed me to chase him, too. The second I got that . . . Jake was Houdini, again. He made the insecurity disappear and brought out that feeling of value; the one that would help me take control and make love to him until the bad feelings went away, until he forgot that he was ever worried about the future.
He wanted me to make him forget everything but us and he did not want to ask me for it. He wanted me to put myself in his position, to understand what he needed, and react.
I took his face in my hands and claimed his mouth, tasting him with renewed fervor. His hands gripped tightly around my waist as my fingers traced the planes of his chest. He groaned when my fingernails scratched his back and shoulders underneath his plain cotton shirt.
I peeled my top off. Next was his. I leaned back on his knees and unbuttoned his jeans, but didn't go further. Instead, I stood, staring at him as I undressed. Jake did the same, his eyes never leaving mine.
Pushing him back down to the bed, I took his hands and stretched them out at his sides, then, began trailing my lips from his palm, up along his arm, to his wonderful strong shoulder. I went for his neck, suckling at his hot skin. Jake held my head and leaned his back. When I sat up to examine my handy work, a large red love bite marked his creamy skin.
Jakes' eyes were dancing as he sat up, placing a hand on either side of my face. "'I wish I was Adam. Then you'd be my Eve. And you would know it's true when I say you were made for me.' Do you get it?"
