Play With Me: Chapter 24

I never expected nailing a date with Jennie Beckett with her brother’s permission would be so easy.

Okay, that might be a stretch. I don’t think Carter really understood what he was agreeing to. Still, I’m out in public with Jennie, alone, and I’m allowed to be.

I’m alive, and Carter has no plans to kill me.

I wish I’d had more time to plan, to really rock our first date and convince her we should do it again. Judging by the glow of wonder on Jennie’s face while she takes in the atmosphere at Udupi Palace, my favorite Indian restaurant, I’d guess she’s enjoying herself regardless.

I can’t take my eyes off her, watching her shoulders drop with each passing moment, her small smile turning to happy, nose-scrunching giggles, her eyes rolling as she hums with each bite of food. She’s a kid in a candy shop, and by the time I’m tugging her out the door, it’s like her entire day never happened.

“Bye, Rudra!” she calls to our server, waving. She places one hand on her belly. “It was so good!”

“See you soon, Miss Jennie!”

“You hear that? See you soon?” She pokes me as we head to my car. “You have to take me back. Rudra said so.”

I open the door for her. “Is that what he said?”

“Uh-huh.” She grins, pressing up on her toes, and I bend my neck. “Oops,” she whispers, pausing halfway. “Forgot. No kissing in public.” She tucks herself into the front seat, and her glittering eyes tells me she’s finding immense pleasure in how difficult this is for me. “C’mon, Gare-Bear. Places to be.”

Rules fucking suck. Not kissing her is hard, but the hardest part is not holding her hand.

It only gets harder as we ride through Stanley Park on the open-air train, cruising through the trail lit with twinkling lights. All I wanna do is pull her into my side, feel the warmth of her body spreading to mine.

“Good call on wearing my warm coat, Gare-Bear.”

“Told you your pretty coat wouldn’t do.”

“So you’re saying this one’s not pretty?”

“I—what?” I nudge her side. “I’m not walking into your trap, Beckett.”

Jennie chuckles softly, shifting closer, resting her arm against mine. “I wish I had a mug of your hot chocolate. You make the best kind.”

“Half a bag of mini-marshmallows and a couple mouthfuls of the hot stuff?”

“Yeah.” Her sigh is wistful as she stares out at the trees, the lights, the stars that dance above us. “Thank you, Garrett. This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”

I huff a laugh. “It’s the only one you’ve ever been on.”

“Yeah, the competition is nonexistent.” She slips her mitt off and carefully hooks her pinky around mine before turning her gaze back out on the way this Vancouver night glows. Then she murmurs, “I think it’d still be the best.”

“Can we get popcorn, Garrett?”

“We can get popcorn, Jennie.”

“Can we get extra butter on the popcorn?”

“We can get extra butter on the popcorn.”

Jennie spins around, eyes sparkling. “What about Skittles? I like the tropical kind. Do you want to share a drink? Maybe root beer? I haven’t had it in years.”

I chuckle, making a mental note to plan more movie dates in the future. Her happiness is contagious, and all I want to do is feed it.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket.

“Is that my brother again?”

“Yup.” It’s the fourth time he’s texted tonight, and the question is the same every time.

If I don’t respond within the first minute, he sends me exactly seven question marks, so I’ve learned to be quick. It helps, because if I’m replying to his texts, it means my hands aren’t anywhere they’re not supposed to be.

Loaded up with snacks, we hike up the stairs of the theater, finding two private seats off to the side, right next to the aisle.

We’re halfway through the popcorn before the trailers are even finished, and Jennie conveniently misses the bag on her next grab, grazing my dick.

“Oops.” She snickers. “Didn’t see you there, big guy.”

“Keep it up and we won’t even make it out of the parking lot before Indiana Bones is raiding your temple, sunshine,” I mumble, stuffing a handful of popcorn in my mouth. “I’ll have you sprawled out over the leather while you scream for me.”

Beside me, Jennie stiffens, and I’m about to apologize if I’ve taken it too far, but her eyes are glued to a group of guys heading up the stairs. Her hand leaves my thigh, gripping the armrest between us, and her chest lifts and falls rapidly.

I nudge her shoulder with mine. “You okay?”

She swallows as the men climb closer. “I want to go home.”

“What?”

One of the guys looks our way, a slow smile spreading as he spins his backward hat to the front.

Jennie turns quickly, knocking the popcorn off my lap. “Shit. Shit.”

“Hey, what’s going—”

“Garrett, please.” Her eyes meet mine, frantic, pleading. “I want to go home.”

“Jennie fucking Beckett.” The douchefuck wearing the Toronto Maple Leaf hat stops beside us, grinning down at Jennie. “Shit, it’s been, what? Six years, give or take?”

She doesn’t answer, just stares up at him, hands balled into fists.

“You look good. We should hang sometime. I’ve missed you.” He laughs lowly, looking back at the screen where the previews are still playing. “You know, I always thought it’d be you up there on the big screen.”

Jennie’s fingernails dig into the armrest.

I don’t know who this guy is, but when his gaze settles on mine, arrogant and amused, I’m about this close to punching a person I’ve never met before in the face. In fact, I already hate him more than Simon.

“What’s up, man?” He extends a hand. “I’m Kevin.”

“I don’t really give a fuck who you are.”

His smile falters. “What?”

“You heard me.” I gesture at Jennie. “You’re clearly making her uncomfortable, so you need to go.”

He barks an incredulous laugh. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not making you uncomfortable, Jen, am I?” When he reaches down and brushes his thumb across her chin, all I see is red. “Fuck, I always loved this mouth.”

I’m out of my seat before my brain even sends the message for my feet to move, and I step in front of Jennie, shoving Kevin backward.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I growl as Jennie’s hand slips up the back of my hoodie, gripping a fistful of my shirt, tugging me closer. “Don’t fucking talk to her. Don’t even fucking look at her.”

“Easy.” Kevin’s hands come up in surrender. “We go way back.”

“Then there’s a good fucking reason you aren’t in her life anymore.” I scoop up our coats, grab Jennie’s hand, and pull her out of her seat. “Come near her again and you’ll need your face reconstructed.”

Her hand trembles in mine as I march into the parking lot, and I’m busy chanting to myself in my head about how I need to calm the fuck down. I don’t want Jennie feeding off my energy right now, not when she needs to feel safe.

I all but stuff her in the passenger seat, then take a moment in the bitter, damp night air to tamp down on the urge to go back in there and knock Kevin’s teeth out for whatever he did to make this wild girl question all her best parts, to stomp on her trust to the point that she’s wary to ever give it out again.

Inside the car, Jennie quivers, small hands shaking on her thighs. I cover one in mine, and just like that, her body stills as she looks down at our clasped hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. She shakes her head and I bring her knuckles to my lips. “Let’s go home.”

I don’t know what she needs from me, but I know I want to give it to her. Snuggles on the couch? Sure. Back tickle in bed? You got it. Fuck, I’ll even give her space if she asks me twice.

What I don’t expect is for her to bypass my hand as it reaches for her floor in the elevator, to press for mine instead, keying in the penthouse code.

I don’t expect her to kick off her shoes inside my door and look me in the eye as she unbuttons her jeans. I don’t expect her to slide them over her hips and drop them to the ground before she takes my face in her cold, trembling hands and fuses our mouths together.

My hands slip under her shirt and glide over her back, pulling her against me. She sighs, tilting her head back when my mouth moves down her chin, over the columns of her throat. I hoist her up to me, winding her legs around my waist, carrying her to my bedroom.

She pulls her shirt over her head when I set her on the bed, lips parting as she watches me undress. When my knees hit the mattress and I pull her below me, a cherry red flush creeps up her chest, staining her creamy skin. My lips follow its path, feeling the heat that warms her, stoking the fire between us.

“Garrett,” she whispers as I unhook her bra, sliding the straps down her shoulders. She’s got the teensiest freckles dotting her skin here, barely noticeable, but I notice everything about her. I press my lips there, then nibble along her collarbone, finding the hollow spot at the base of her throat as she quivers below my touch. “I want to…I want to have sex with you.”

My body stills, lips hovering on her neck, and my cock betrays me by throbbing where it rests, right against the spot she says she wants me.

But she doesn’t really.

“Jennie…”

Her fingers fall from my hair, and she shifts, like she’s trying to hide, like she doesn’t know how badly I want her.

My hand slides along her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Stop. If it isn’t clear enough, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than inside you.” My eyes move between hers, noting the uncertainty, the insecurities, the fear. “Tonight is not the night. You’ve had an overwhelming day, and you’re feeling vulnerable, and that’s okay. But I want you to want me because you actually do, because you’re certain about it. I won’t take something from you unless you’re without a doubt ready to give it to me. And you’re not, Jennie.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “But what if you get bored of me?”

“Jennie.” Burying my face in her neck, I chuckle softly, then tug her lip free. “Today I used one of your dildos to fix a dent you put in your brother’s car, then watched you moan over every single bite of your dinner and lick your fingers clean. Being with you is like watching my favorite TV show. I’m always on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what comes next.”

She beams. “I’m your favorite?”

“My fucking favorite.”

She tangles her fingers with mine. “Can you show me?”

I do, five times over, showing her all my favorite spots on her body, whispering against her skin about everything she does that makes my life better. Later, when her body curls into mine and my fingers dance down her spine, she opens her mouth and tells me what really happened earlier today.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Jennie,” I say when she finishes. “You got that job offer because your teacher thinks you deserve it, not because of who your brother is, and not because you follow the rules.”

She traces her name on my torso with the tip of her finger. “It’s hard not to think about it when someone puts the thought in your head. I hate doubting myself.”

“And in doing so, you gave Krissy exactly what she wanted. She wants you to second-guess your talent. She wants you to be as insecure as she is. Because in the end, that’s what it comes down to. She’s insecure and jealous.”

“Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like me?”

I lift a shoulder. “I bet Krissy doesn’t even know why she doesn’t like you. Because it’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with her. She’s got her own shit that needs working through.”

“It makes sense. It’s just…sometimes it feels like I don’t fit in with anyone.”

“You weren’t made to fit in, Jennie. You stand out way too much to hide in the shadows.”

She lays her warm cheek on my shoulder. “Thank you, Garrett.”

I tickle her neck with the tip of her braid. “For what?”

“For talking to me. Listening to me. Helping me. But most of all, for trapping me in a closet and forcing me to play with you.”

“I’m not sure that’s quite how that went.”

“The orgasms have been wonderful.”

“Wonderful enough to ditch the toys?”

“Oh, Garrett.” She gives me a pitying, humoring laugh, patting my chest. “Let’s not get carried away. Men don’t vibrate.”

“Maybe not.” My tongue flicks over that spot below her ear. “But real men make you vibrate.”

Giggling, she snuggles into me, and soon she’s sound asleep in my arms. I turn on Netflix, telling myself I’ll wake her up after and walk her home. But the longer I lie here, the more unwilling I am to let her go.

She’s stunning, a breathtaking masterpiece with chestnut waves tumbling out of her braid, splayed over her neck, dark lashes resting against her rosy cheekbones. I don’t know what she’s dreaming about, but the more her nose scrunches in her sleep, the more she sighs happily and smiles, the more I hope to God it’s me.

I can’t stop myself from picking my phone up and hitting that red Record button. I want to see this face exactly as it is right now, whenever I want to, and when an hour’s passed, I decide to say a big ol’ fuck you to the rules. I turn off the TV and settle into the darkness, pulling Jennie tighter to me.

Her hand coasts up my arm, fingers sinking into my hair. “Garrett?” she murmurs. “Do you want me to go?”

“I want you to stay.”

I wait for her to argue the way she likes to, to say it’s not a good idea. But instead, after a moment that seems to last forever, she shoves her leg between mine.

“Thought you said I snore.”

“Nah, you’re being extra cute in your sleep tonight. I took a video so I can remind myself next time you’re acting like a brat.”

She laughs, then stills. “A what?”

“A video. Don’t worry; I hid it.”

She shoots up, nearly hammering me in the face when she flings herself over me, slapping at the lamp until it floods the room with light, making me all squinty. “Delete it.”

I rub my eyes with my fists. “What?”

“Delete it. Now.”

“You can’t see anything. It’s just your face. You’re doing this cute thing with your nose, all scrunchy, kinda like a bunny, and you keep smiling, and—Jesus, Jennie, watch it.” Her knee narrowly misses my balls as she crawls over me. She rips my phone from the charger, swiping frantically through my photos, searching for the video.

“Where is it?” She shoves it against my chest. “Delete it. Right now.”

“Okay, Jennie. I’ll delete it. Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” She storms around the room, snagging her underwear and fumbling her way back into them. “You don’t take a video of someone without their permission, Garrett! What the fuck were you thinking?”

What was I thinking? I was thinking I wanted to feel like she was beside me the next time I’m hundreds of miles away from her. “I guess I wasn’t,” is the lame excuse I offer, rolling off the bed. I show her my phone as I delete the video. “There. It’s gone.” She pulls her shirt over her head, and I follow her into the hallway, cupping my balls, wishing I wasn’t naked right now. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

I rub my temple, right where a headache is forming. “I thought we were gonna…you were gonna…stay?”

“We don’t do sleepovers, Garrett. We have rules.”

My pulse thunders in my ears as she buttons her jeans and steps into her shoes. “We don’t have to have rules. We don’t—we can—” Fuck. I tug at my hair. Here I go again. It’s not that hard to have difficult conversations. I just want her to stay. I just want her. “Jennie—”

“This was a mistake.” She mumbles the words to herself, but I hear them, and they hurt.

“Because of the video? I don’t understand.”

Jennie scoops up her things and flings the door open. I reach out, wrapping my fingers around her elbow.

“Wait, Jennie—”

“Don’t touch me!” Her face flames, eyes piercing as she reels on me, chest heaving with each ragged inhale. Her gaze flickers as a thousand emotions pass through them, and I don’t recognize a single one, except the heartbreak, the deep-seated betrayal. I may see them, but I don’t understand them, not why she wears them with me. “I shouldn’t have let you in. I’m better off alone.”

Fury builds in my chest and bursts through my veins, fists clenching at my sides as the words sink in. She regrets this. Regrets me. Her past hurt rules her life, and I’m tired of sitting by and letting it. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Jennie. Nobody is better off alone.”

I watch it all in slow motion, the way her eyes dim, the fire in them dying, replaced with an emptiness I haven’t seen before, a distance that makes her feel an entire world away as she shuts down on me far worse than she ever has.

“I am,” is her simple reply, right before she lets the door slam shut behind her.

“Fuck.” I snap my pants up off the ground. “Fuck.” I head to the kitchen and fill a glass with water, drain it quickly, then fill it again. I’ve gone from blissful to mindfucked in a matter of two minutes.

Done my fucking ass. She likes to be in control, to act like she calls the shots, but I refuse to let her decide this one on her own. She keeps telling herself I’m someone else, convincing herself she can’t trust me, the same way she shouldn’t have trusted the people who broke her.

But I’m not them.

I don’t want to break her; I want to show her she’s already whole. I want to be her best friend, the person she comes to when she needs help, like she did tonight. I want to be the one she opens herself up to without holding back. I want her to show me it all while I promise to keep those parts safe.

I know she’s wired this way after all these years, conditioned to believe no one could ever want her for everything she brings to the table. She thinks she’s safer in her bubble, keeping out the people who have the power to hurt her, but in the end, she only hurts herself more.

She’s determined to keep parts of herself hidden, hell-bent on keeping me on the outside.

It’s ironic, really, because on the outside is where she hates to be. Right now, she’s the one putting herself there.

So maybe that’s why I’m stunned when there’s a knock on my door at the crack of dawn as I’m standing in my living room, watching the sun rise with a cup of coffee in my hand, my desperate attempt at curing the headache caused by the muddled mess in my brain, the utter absence of sleep as I sat on my couch and typed out fifty text messages, never sending a single one of them.

Because when I open the door, Jennie stands there in a pair of plaid sleep pants and my hoodie, thick hair weaved in her signature messy braid, draped over her shoulder, the smooth skin on her face framed by all the loose tresses that spill from it.

Her cool blue eyes are red rimmed and exhausted, shattered, and her chin quivers as she peers up at me. “I’m sorry, Garrett.”

The words are fractured and hoarse, and when my arms open, she falls into them, burying her face in my shoulder as she trembles in my hold, and I know: My heart hasn’t ever beat so hard for another person.