On Every Street (The Artists Trilogy #0)

He pulled away, wiping his mouth then licking his fingers. I was glowing too much to be put off by that. He was a kinky motherfucker, that’s for sure.

I sighed and rested my head back on the soft pillow, so many new feelings fluttering all over me. I was lost in my thoughts, in the lingering sensations, when I felt his hand graze my legs. Graze my scars.

I immediately stiffened, waiting in fear. In all the ecstasy, I had completely forgotten about my scars. It was a first for me, but now it was all crashing down, smothering me with disgust.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked, his fingers lightly touching them.

“Please don’t,” I pleaded, pinching my eyes shut. I felt him remove his hand and he settled down in the sheets. I could feel his eyes on my leg, and when I finally looked up, they weren’t staring at it. They were staring at me. Golden green sadness.

The moment washed over us, sinking and permeating our thoughts. I waited for him to say something, anything. Then I realized he was waiting to hear a story. My story. Only I couldn’t tell him. Like my parents had made me do just after the accident, I had to tell him the lie I had known so well.

“When I was little,” I began, remembering I was Eden, not Ellie, realizing that Ellie’s life was a lie anyway, “we didn’t have much money. My parents would let me play in the dump to scrounge around for toys. One time I picked up a bottle. I thought it looked pretty. I didn’t see any labels or anything. I accidently dropped it. It splashed up my leg…battery acid.”

He didn’t say anything for quite some time, and I wondered if he even believed it. His eyes were emotionless, still locked on me. Suddenly he burst forward and kissed me, full of fire and passion. I could taste salt and a wetness from his cheeks and I wasn’t sure what to make of this man. He was constantly surprising me and catching me off-guard.

We made out for a few minutes, just our mouths communicating with each other by feel and touch. The world, my scars, drifted away for those blissful seconds.

Then he stopped and covered up my leg with the blanket.

“You lie here. I’ll get breakfast started,” he said, and slipped on a thin pair of lounge pants over his perky ass, his skin glowing more golden than usual in the light of the morning sun. He had a large tattoo of an elaborate cross running up and down his spine, adding to his bad boy appeal.

Soon he was back, bringing me a tray of scrambled eggs with rosemary, seven grain toast with fresh raspberry jam, and a glass of freshly squeezed blood orange juice. He went back for the espresso and climbed in bed with me while we ate, and he told me a bit about his four sisters back at home in Mexico. I had the impression that he took care of them all financially, but I didn’t want to press it. Not yet.

After we were done eating, we showered together and he insisted on soaping up nearly every inch of me. He teased my ass crack with his foaming fingers and that’s where I drew the line. He just told me he’d convince me one day; that he’d end up owning every part of me, inside and out. I ended up giving him another blow job instead.

With my head in a daze of pheromones, we eventually left the house and he drove me back to Biloxi where I had to get ready for my shift.

I got out of the car, feeling like a totally different person despite wearing the same clothes as the day before. I leaned on the driver’s side door and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Thanks for everything,” I told him.

The corned of his mouth lifted. “Angel, you haven’t even seen everything yet. But you will. How about I pick you up on Monday at noon?”

Seeing as it was Saturday, that had me a bit disappointed. But I was working for the next two days anyway. It’s funny how quickly I had turned into someone that wanted to spend every minute with a guy. That had never happened to me before. I guess I could blame it on working the long con, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t it.

I told him Monday was perfect and said goodbye. I watched as he drove off, then prepared myself for the next two days. I was going to spend every second of it trying to get my head back on track. Everything depended on it. Even my heart.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Monday crashed through the weekend like a bull in a china shop. At first I wasn’t supposed to work that evening but Deanne got sick and I was called in. It was only from seven to eleven though, which meant my date with Javier was still on, it just got sliced in two.

I spent Saturday and Sunday trying to get my wits together. I focused one hundred percent on my job, trying to work past the apprehension that was left over from my last shift. By the time Sunday night rolled around, I was handling the customers with ease and working through my Javier problem.

On the surface, there wasn’t really a problem. The plan was going as planned and then some. Back in Dallas, I looked to this moment and imagined that I’d be having to get in with some sleazy old man, feeling ashamed and desperate of my actions. But, though Javier was definitely a player with some serious skills, he wasn’t an old man. He was young and virile and made me feel like a million dollars.

And that, of course, was the real problem. I was becoming too attached to my mark. I thought it was lucky that I happened to win over someone like him, but feelings muddled things, and I was spending more time thinking about him from an emotional and romantic point of view than I was from the cold-level of detachment that I needed. I was in here for revenge, for the strife I’d been subjected to for the last ten years. I was here to even the score with Travis. Yet Travis was the last thing on my mind. All I could think about was Javier and what he was going to do to me next. He excited me more than anyone ever had.

I thought, maybe, it was okay to just be excited. For now.

When Javier came to pick me up in the morning, my excitement and expectations suddenly tripled. Instead of going out for lunch like I had imagined, we actually swung by a medical clinic. Yes. A medical clinic.

It wasn’t terribly romantic, yet in some ways it was. He wanted to make sure I was going on birth control. He then made us both get tested for STDs. I didn’t know what he was expecting to find in my virginal blood, but the fact that he was taking control of the situation, especially a situation that many couples never discussed, meant a lot to me. Like, a strange amount.

“You’re my woman,” he told me, as we left the pharmacy, a bag of new birth control pills in my hand. “And I’ll be responsible with you. And for you.”

I was his woman. Two dates in and I was his woman. And who was I? A liar. I tried hard to bury those thoughts and found a bit of relief when he dropped me at my shift later. Things were moving so fast once again.

“So, how is Mr. Wonderful?” Julie asked me in her thick Southern accent, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Monday night, the bar was totally dead, and we were wiping down the counters, straightening bottles, and doing everything we could to busy ourselves.

I smiled at her petite round face, the cascade of wavy brown hair that went all the way to her lower back. She was built like a porn star, but I knew she had a very sweet boyfriend that she was completely over the moon for. His name was Andrew and she wouldn’t shut up about him, day in and day out. If it wasn’t for Javier—for my Mr. Wonderful—I would have been jealous.

“He’s good,” I told her, feeling my cheeks heat.

“Oh he’s very good, sug,” she said. “You know there’s nothing sexier than a man who can take charge, and believe me, Eden, he took charge of Thursday night.”

“I thought you said I took charge,” I teased her.

“Well behind every good woman is a good man,” she said, then noticed I was glaring at her sexiest remark. She jabbed me playfully in the ribs. “And vice versa, of course. He’s got such a way about him.”

“Javier?” I asked, surprised to see that same dreamy look on her face, as if she were talking about Andrew.

“Yes, your Javier.”

“Okay, he’s not exactly my Javier,” I said, as though he hadn’t just told me earlier that I was his woman and he was responsible for me.

“Oh, whatever!” Julie exclaimed, nearly slapping her thighs in overreaction. “It took Andrew two years and a trip on a Disney cruise ship with Nana before he even looked at me that way. I think it’s because he finally saw how much of a bad-ass I have to be to put up with my family. Believe me, it wasn’t easy. Between the food poisoning and the Catholic versus Protestant discussion, I almost lost him.”

And she had totally lost me. But it didn’t matter. I was biting the bait.

“How does he look at me?” I asked as casually as I could muster.

Julie placed her small hands on both sides of my face. “He looks at you like this.”

Her eyes drooped and she just looked drunk. And like she was maybe having a stroke.

“Inebriated?”

She let go and smacked me on the arm. She was an animated little thing.

“No! Like he’s been searching for you his whole life, and there you turned up, under a pile of garbage.”

“That’s…poetic,” I said, frowning. “But I’ve only known him a few days.”

“Oh that doesn’t matter,” she said, before sliding a beer down to a gentleman who hadn’t even asked for it yet. He was a regular, I knew that much. “Love at first sight happens. They say it doesn’t, but it does. Just look at me and Andrew.”

I would have, but I’d never seen the dude. “We aren’t in love.”

“You will be,” she said slyly, filling out a bar tab. “I can tell. With some couples you can just tell. And he’s different. He knows stuff.”

I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear. “What kind of stuff?”

“You’ll see,” she said with a wink. “And then you’ll tell your new pal Julie all about it. Ain’t that right, sug?”

And an hour later, Javier showed up at the bar, winning Julie over with his manners and blinding smile. She giggled in response, unable to form words. Again I was struck by how gorgeous he was. Not in that conventional, hunky way, but mesmerizing all the same. He was very bad and very, very beautiful.

He led me out to his car and we got in. I was very conscious of my overnight bag which was sitting in the backseat. I had packed it earlier, at his request. It sat there, ominous, reminding me of what was about to transpire. I couldn’t have been more anxious if I tried.

I cleared my throat as we drove toward Ocean Springs. “I took my pill a few hours ago.”

He smiled knowingly. “It’s going to take a few weeks of you taking it before it starts to work. Don’t worry, I have enough protection to get us through. I hope.”

Oh Jesus. What was going to happen after tonight? Was I going to turn into an insatiable horndog after one romp in the sack? Watching his skilled hands, his long fingers as they handled the wheel, I knew what the answer was.

It’s just sex, I told myself. It’s just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Your body is not your heart.

Yet even though I chanted that in my head until we pulled up to his house, glowing white and pure against the starry sky, I knew there was no point. No matter what I told myself, I was at his mercy. I had no idea what to expect and he did. He was controlling the strings.