Burn (Songs of Submission #5)(11)
Author: C.D. Reiss

“Jonathan, please, I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else.” His body was so close to mine, so real. That son of a bitch. Built so right for me and how many others?

“Wait. You think there was someone else?” he asked.

I bit my lip. I didn’t know what I thought any more.

“Monica. There’s. No. One. Else.” He let the handle go and stared at me for a second. “There’s only you. You think I’m stupid? You think I can create what we have with another woman? I know the world. I know the people in it. Us? What we have isn’t something we made. It’s something that existed before we even met.”

The sinkhole in my chest reversed itself, like film run backward, from broken to whole.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t my business.”

“Why did you walk away from me if you still care?” he asked.

“I’m human. It’s a terminal condition.” I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted his lips, his hands, his tongue, but I couldn’t, not when there were so many sensible reasons not to. “I took a meeting with Eddie Milpas. He wants to make me a star, which I’d laugh at coming from anyone else. But it’s not funny because he has the power to do it. He wants to put Carnival’s muscle behind me. If he does, I’ll have everything I ever wanted.”

“Monica, that’s—”

“He wants the song,” I said. Jonathan leaned back, against the door, a rueful smile at his lips. “He’s not getting it. I keep my promises, and to be honest, I wish I never wrote that thing. But that’s not the rub. He has plenty of songs with kinky lyrics that’ll sound great from a girl all dolled up in leather and chains. BDSM is hot right now, apparently, and I’m ‘in the know,’ so I can pull it off.”

I paused, because the image exploded in my mind. “Fuck! I spend a few weeks with you and I’m Bondage Girl. What the f**k am I supposed to do now? Do you know how hard I’ve worked? Do you know what I’ve put into this, and to sit across from this guy, and he tells me…wait for it….he tells me that I’m perfect because I’ll know what I’m talking about? Who am I? What the f**k?” I slammed the dashboard. “And Kevin, do you know why he forced himself on me? Because he thought I liked it that way. God damn it. Jonathan, what if those cameras were in my house because someone wanted to blackmail you? And I’m getting caught in that net now. This is not what I want.

“I want to sing. I want to make music. I alienated my mother, I sacrificed a hundred other careers, I lost my best friend over it, I practice and work all the time. It’s all I think about. It’s all I want. But I’m trapped in this kinky thing with you right when all the work could be paying off. This sucks. My career could break any minute. These should be the best days of my life, and I wish I was dead.”

I had to stop or I was going to cry, which I didn’t want. Crying would derail my whole point. I didn’t look at Jonathan because I didn’t care what he felt or thought. I didn’t want to see his beautiful face because he’d turn me into mush. I looked at my hands in my lap, then out the window at the party.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I don’t blame you. You didn’t intend to ruin my life. But I’d really like for it to not get any worse, if that’s okay.”

We sat in silence. I considered saying goodbye and opening the door, but I couldn’t. I considered running before he could catch me, but I couldn’t do that either. Instead, I faced him. He rubbed his chin absently and stared into the middle distance.

And then my mouth opened and words came out. “The worst part is, I miss you.”

He didn’t react, but I did. I turned into stone. Jesus, what was I saying? He was last thing I needed. He was trouble. Six feet two inches of life-damaging trouble in a sweet, tempting motherfucking devil of a package.

He turned to me, as if having decided something. “You and Darren take my plane up to Vancouver. Let me put you up in a hotel.”

“No.”

“Would you stop making me crazy?”

“You’re not hearing me.”

“I’m hearing a lot of pain from all quarters. It’s going to get worse if you don’t let me protect you. When you get back safe, we talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, goddess.” He brushed my cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Don’t call me that.”

“We have so much to talk about.”

I closed my eyes. His touch felt like a boat on still water, leaving ripples in its wake. When would I stop craving him? “I don’t want my life ruined.”

“Neither do I. But this…” He brushed his hands over my face, bringing my skin to life. “This, I want. I’ve never wanted anything so badly. I feel your hands on your phone when you read my texts. I go to the Stock after your shifts just to stand where you’ve stood. I fall asleep on the pillow you used when you were in my bed. I need to share whatever piece of the world you’re in. Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

“You know how I feel,” I croaked.

“We can’t go backward. You and I are going to figure out how to make this work.”

His confidence should have made me hopeful, but it only filled me with dread.

“I want to go home now. Please.”

He walked me to my car. When he handed me my keys, dangling them from his fingertips, I had the desire to do what I did when we’d met, what Will Santon had done: overshoot my grasp for a touch. Just a little. But then Jonathan spoke.

“Until we talk, and you get your head on straight, I’m not touching you. You were right. We get reeled in, you and I. We touch and we feel good, and then we land in bed and we forget the basics.”

“Talking’s not going to fix this.”

“Neither is f**king.”

I snapped the keys from him. “We can fix us, but we’re not going to fix the world, Jonathan.”

“The world is full of ass**les.” He opened the driver’s door for me and closed it when I was safely in.

I lowered the window. “When I met you, I thought you were an ass**le.”

He smiled. “You did not.”

“I did. A gorgeous ass**le.”

His laugh came from deep in his chest. He bit his lip and reached out to cup my cheek but fell half an inch short. “I was an ass**le for making you another conquest.” He put his hand in his pocket, and I missed the potential in that almost-touch. “Get out of here, goddess. Get some rest.”