Jaime frowned. “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know everything.” I cleared my throat. “Where, why, how, and most of all…why are you doing it?”
His eyes darkened, and he pulled his blond hair into a high bun. I watched him silently, swallowing hard while he examined me under his lashes. I was stepping deeper into a territory that wasn’t mine. We both were. This was intimate and secretive, two lines we promised we wouldn’t cross outside the bedroom.
Are we breaking the rules?
It occurred to me that I was the first one to step over the line that I was so quick to paint in our relationship. But it also occurred to me that there wasn’t one line. It was more like an abstract painting full of lines, circles and triangles. It was a mess, and trying to maneuver your moves in this thing between us was hopeless.
“This doesn’t leave this room,” Jaime warned, dipping his chin down, his nose touching mine.
“Of course,” I said as if this was obvious. We were still on the floor, my legs knotted with his. I wanted to toss aside my teacher hat at that moment. To burn it to ashes, more like. “This is between you and me. I’m just curious.”
“Well…” He pulled me deeper between his legs, opening them wider to accommodate me. His eyes honed on an invisible spot on the wall. This was hard for him. Giving up a secret that wasn’t wholly his. “Where? At Vicious’s place. Every weekend. Guys know better than to come to his parties if they don’t feel like fighting. And still…everyone does. Let’s admit it. This town is fucking boring. We’re all rich, privileged, and desperate to fill in the void.”
“What void?”
“That void. Whether it’s sex or pressure or money. We fight on the tennis court. His father and stepmother never use it, so they never notice the blood stains, which their handyman takes care of during the week.”
That void was familiar. I didn’t want to tell him that I had it, too. The hole in my soul. And that I, too, found a way to fill it. With him.
Suddenly, he snaked one hand behind my back and lowered me along with him to the floor, doing it slowly so I wouldn’t hit my head.
A wicked grin curved his lips. “Why? Because it’s fun. Because men have become so fucking emasculated by society, we sometimes feel like having our balls back. Why do dudes love Fight Club so much? It’s because behind every A&F boxers-wearing guy who smells like citrus aftershave and knows who Versace is and takes you out on a date to an Italian dinner and a foreign film, there’s a savage who just wants to grab you by the hair and drag you to his cave.”
His other hand moved between us, sliding down my belly, finding my soaking panties. I was wearing a knee-length dress, but it was flipped up and Jaime didn’t look like he was bothered by it too much. He rubbed my entrance through my panties furiously.
“How? Someone steps out to the pool with his sleeves rolled up. That’s an invitation to fight. You can’t challenge a specific guy. The other guy has to volunteer. Chicks dig it, even when you lose, so guys do it, because pussy is nice, even when you have a bleeding lip. We use our fists. Kicks. Basic MMA shit. But we fight clean, mostly. And if things get out of hand, which they usually don’t unless Vicious’s involved…” He bit my lip, tugging my underwear down roughly and pushing in two fingers. “Then one of the HotHoles breaks it off before shit goes to the ER.”
I whimpered, tightening around him. He was rougher than usual, and I doubted it was a coincidence. He wanted to show me that he was a man, not a kid.
And he succeeded. In and out, in and out, he fingered me while I writhed on my kitchen floor underneath him.
So this was it. This was Defy. I had more questions I couldn’t exactly articulate at that moment, but one thing was clear—Jaime wasn’t afraid of getting hurt. Not physically, anyway.
But what about emotionally?
And what about me? Would I be able to take the hit when things between us went south?
All I knew was that my south liked him. So much so, that I came on his fingers before he even had the chance to touch my clit.
“You feel pretty manly to me,” I breathed out, all jelly-legged with half-mast eyes.
“And you feel like a woman worthy of a fight, Ms. Greene.”
SIX HEAVENLY WEEKS TICKED BY before Jaime claimed not only my body, but my heart. Unsurprisingly, it was the day I got my period (AKA the time when my hormones were wreaking havoc with my body). It was also the day that I moved.