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His fingers are on me in a nanosecond and I moan as his palm presses against my sex through my jeans. His fingers tease me, tracing the seam on my jeans, before applying pressure and I squirm. His hand moves roughly back and forth. The friction creating sparks of pleasure so intense I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out.
“You can and you will give it to me.” He mutters, his face inches from mine.
His scent intoxicates me and I can't think. Let alone speak. Winter air and mint invade my mind until it clouds. Until my head is a storm stolen by dark-haired thieves. Sweeping my sanity right along with it.
Punishing me for my silence Kaleb applies more pressure, his movements even more aggressive than before as circles my clit, causing sparks to shoot up my spine and stars to cloud my eyes. Jayson’s fingers start to pinch my nipples and I think I might explode from sensation. And then just as suddenly as it began Kaleb removes his hand, and I whimper, a soft no escaping from my lips.
I open my eyes and am surprised to see that Kaleb looks tortured. Restless. As if the very soul inside of him is wrestling for control.
He licks his lips and I trace the movement fervently with my eyes, the walls around my heart crumbling as I recklessly bare every inch of emotion I keep locked up inside.
He looks away suddenly and I’m left feeling strangely empty. As if something had been taken from me that I didn't know I possessed.
“Rose.” The name comes out menacing and I realize with acute clarity that he’s never called me by my first name alone. That thought alone sends a thrill of terror and delight straight through me. And then he moves, his hand hovering over my mound once again and it's too much. My hips thrust forward only to be met with air and I cry out in frustration. My core throbbing with need.
“I can't. I can't. I can't.” I’m yelling now and I hate myself for the tears of frustration that prick my eyes.
“You can't do what Rose.” Kaleb growls.
He didn't understand, I needed the journal for leverage. It's my only hope for my mother and me. The only chance we have to get out of this hollow life we’re in and I hated that I needed him. Hated that I needed something that belonged to Kaleb in order to free myself. Hated that we were now both players in a stupidly complicated game that had somehow become my life.
But what choice did I have?
His eyes are watching me now, curiosity peeking through their menacing depths, and I hold on to that stare forgetting for a moment that we are not alone,
“I would like to make a deal.” The words taste like acid on my tongue.
Kaleb quirks an eyebrow, disbelief evident on his face. Jayson smothers a cough. Tristan says nothing.
“A deal.” Kaleb draws out the words and I resist the urge to squirm again. He's not touching me but still, I feel on fire. As if at any moment I’m going to burst into flames.
“The journal in exchange for money and your protection.” The words come out rushed and sound more like thejournalinechangeformoneyandyourprotection, but I don't care. The idea came to me after Kaleb left my apartment. His journal in exchange for the money I needed to fall out of debt with Uncle John. It was desperate and it was risky but then again I had already tried everything within the spectrum of reasonable. If there was ever a time to take a risk now was it. I'm just glad I could get the words out.
The deal hangs between us like a string waiting to be cut and I don't realize how much I’m dying for someone to say something until Jayson laughs,
“About time you started negotiating princess. I was starting to get bored just standing over here.” The statement echoes in the tiny tent and the music from the party trickles in, a pop remix of Rihanna's Desperado. Kaleb’s tracing the sharpie on my arm again, his eyes following the faded words, We always find our way, seemingly lost in thought,
“And just who do you need protection from?” Tristan blurts out. Finally finding the conversation interesting enough to break his silence.
I turn to him sharply, eyes blazing,
“None of your business,” I retort. I realize it's a bit unfair to keep them in the dark like this, but I just can't take the chance. Uncle John has my mother. And while I trust them to put protective detail on me and her, that doesn't mean I trusted them with my past.
“Well, it's a little hard to protect someone if we don't know who we are protecting them from.” Tristan glares at me, hatred evident across his features.
“I realize that but I can’t tell you,” I replied.
“Why not? What’s this person got on you?” Jayson spews his fingers tapping restlessly against his thighs.
“It’s not important.” I grind out, losing patience. Kaleb was staying awfully silent and it was making me nervous. Subconsciously, my heels started clicking together.
“How much money are we talking about?” Tristan scowls, his angry eyes still on me.
I shrug. Which only seems to infuriate him further.
I thought about this part I. The money. How much I would need to be able to truly and cleanly get away from the life I'm trapped in. But no matter how much I thought about it, no sum ever seemed enough. After all, how do you put a price on someone’s freedom?
Kaleb puts a hand on both my ankles to stop the shaking and I realize distantly that he never stopped kneeling before me.
