P s i hate you, p.19
P.S. I Hate You, page 19
Believe it or not, I found a truckload of fab finds in my shopping ventures. People around here have no inkling of the value of their old and used items. Bolts of vintage fabrics, buttons, and embroidered appliques. Timeless dresses and retro hairpins. Things that would go for hundreds in the city, priced at mere dollars. Their loss is my gain.
Jolene rings out the register and bags up the day’s till. “Another day in the books,” she says, dropping the leather satchel into her oversized purse. She rounds the counter and pulls me in for a tight hug. “You have a great time and be sure to take lots of pictures for me, okay?”
“I will.”
We lock up together, then go our separate ways. My empty backpack is much lighter than when I arrived here this morning, yet I somehow feel as if the weight on my shoulders is heavier now that my designs are out in the wild. Those sneaky what-ifs come back with a vengeance as I find my way back home, but for every negative thought that floats into my brain, I counteract it with something positive. If people here don’t like what I have to offer, that doesn’t mean I can’t make it big in other places. Failure is not an option.
As usual, I make a beeline for my room, hoping to avoid Jace at all costs. He’s been eerily quiet the past few days. Ever since I turned my back to his plea. Veiled rage is one thing. I can handle his grumbled insults and hallway shoves, but the ghosted silence is more than I can take.
A small pile of prom-related items sits beside the dresser. A pair of nude peep toe pumps, my retro handbag, and a jewel-encrusted bracelet I’d siphoned from my previous life. Less is more when it comes to accessories. I’ll couple it all with the diamond studs from Troy and let the dress speak for itself.
But when I unzip the bag to let the material breathe, I’m met with a disaster. “No.” I yank the zipper all the way down and pull out the tattered remains of my beloved gown. Embers of rage smolder within. Grass stains streak across the back, the bottom hem hanging by a thread, but it’s the cigarette burn straight through the bodice that throws fuel on the fire.
You went too fucking far this time, asshole.
My insides tremble with hate as I stomp to the kitchen en route to his room, but no amount of yelling is enough. My hostility is an out-of-body experience. I grab a knife from the corner block, my palms damp as I hold it in my fist and slam through the door.
You ruin something I love? I ruin something you love.
Jace’s truck sits next to the house. I stab the knife into his back tire and pull it free. Air whistles out as the rubber pools under the wheel, but I’m not done. One by one, I stab all four, my furious cries echoing into the night.
“What the fuck are you doin’?”
I spin toward the sound of Jace’s voice. Blood rushes my ears, every vein in my body throbbing with madness.
I hold the knife out in front of me. “You stay the fuck away from me, Jace Wilder.”
“Oh, are you gonna stab me, princess?” He widens his arms and steps toward me. “Show me what ya got.”
The tip of my knife quivers. “Why?”
The single word stops his slow ascent. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to be more specific with your question.”
There are so many whys in our relationship I’ve lost count of them all, yet when I open my mouth, only one comes out. “Why do you hate me so much?”
His arms fall to his sides. “You think I hate you?” He reaches past my weapon to touch my face. “My life would be so much easier if that were true.”
My strength gives out. The knife clatters to the ground as I collapse into a crouch. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall at his feet, but he pushed me down one too many times. This is the last straw. The inevitable end I knew would come yet was still unprepared for. “You win,” I sob, dropping my face to my hands. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He stands above me, looking down from his towering height. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
“You want me out of your house? I’m gone.”
I try to rise, but my knees are weak. Jace catches me when I stumble. “Don’t be so fuckin’ dramatic.”
“It’s not drama.” I wrench from his grasp and stagger backward. A burst of strength splinters from my chest. “I can’t do this anymore!” The force of my scream makes him rock back on his heels. I pull in a snivel and hold his stare so he knows what I’m about to say is true. “You’re the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Now who’s walkin’ away?”
He reaches out as I back up, but I recoil. “I am. I’m walking away from you, and I’m walking away from this toxic fucking love I don’t want to have for you.”
The blood drains from his face. “What did you just say?”
“I said goodbye, Jace.”
Back in my room, I allow my emotions to run free. When the tears fall, I don’t hold back. I cry myself empty. There’s a hollow space in my chest where my heart used to be. I wallow in the muck of my desolation, and when I’m done, I peel myself off the floor, dry my eyes, and start over.
It’s too late to buy something new, and this dress cost me too damn much to toss in the trash. Not just my money but my sanity as well.
I pluck it from the hanger and carry it to the bathroom like a baby in my arms. I submerge the delicate fabric in the soapy tub. It bubbles up, and I push it down, gently rubbing at the dirt until it’s clean. Unfortunately, the grass stains aren’t as easy. My gaze pings around the tiny room looking for something I could use to scrub them out. Jace’s toothbrush catches my eye. A wicked smile curls my lips. Fuck it. This is all his fault anyway.
I steal it from the cup and rinse it in the sink before using the soft bristles to work the green out of the champagne-pink fibers. Some of it releases, but the damn blemish is just as stubborn as he is. A faint olive hue clings to the tulle. I throw the toothbrush into the toilet and sit back on my haunches to devise a plan.
What would Freya Simonne do?
As I watch the water swirl down the drain, a new plan electrifies my mind like a lightning bolt. Upcycling designs is part of fashion. Taking something old and making it new has forever been a trick of the trade. Consider this part of my designer training. I can fix this.
I run to my room and start tearing through the boxes piled in my closet. It has to be here, I think to myself. A box of sewing notions sits off to the side. I peer in the box and find what I’m looking for …
A small plastic container filled with dyes.
Red, blue, and yellow, I cradle them to my chest like they have the power to undo all the wrongs in my life. If I mixed up green, maybe I could conceal the grass stains. I get to work. My stomach clenches as I pour the concoction into the newly filled tub and watch my beloved pink turn to moss. When it’s done, I grin at my handiwork. It’s not a perfect match, but it’s enough to conceal the spots from far away.
I hang it from the shower rod to dry, then scurry back to the room to grab my sketchbook. Modern problems require modern solutions. The hem is ripped, so it will need to be shortened. An easy enough task, but the cigarette burn poses a problem. I can’t conceal it, hide it, or clean it. I need to remove it. But how?
I open to a blank page and start sketching different ideas. My pencil flies on its own accord. I’m merely the vessel, a puppet being pulled by the strings of my own creativity. When I’m finished, I beam down at my book with pride. I draw a circle around one of the three designs and sit back on the toilet seat, letting it come together behind my lids. A sense of calm washes over me, and I know exactly what to do.
Chapter twenty
Cindy’s eyes widen as I step into the living room. “What happened to the other dress?”
I smooth down the tulle on my skirt. “This is the other dress. I just made a few little tweaks.”
She circles around me, checking it out from all angles. “A few little tweaks? I’d never guess this was even the same dress.”
Moss while wet, the dress dried to a brilliant olive with a slight sheen of the previous gold shimmering through. The floor-length skirt now stops at my knees, but the biggest transformation is in the bodice. I gently removed the material around the waist, stitch by stitch, exposing the boning beneath, then replaced it with some leftover tulle I’d taken from the bottom. I left the spaghetti straps. However, with so much of the torn-off hem still remaining, I constructed puffy tulle sleevelets that band around the tops and bottoms of my biceps. The dainty ruffles attach to the dress just under the armpits.
My throat burns. I could go over the whole story, but what’s the point? She’ll yell at Jace, who’ll only take it out on me. I handled it, and it’s done. “Are you mad?”
She offers a warm smile. “You’re gonna knock that boy off his feet.”
A hard ball sits in the pit of my stomach. Cindy’s been so good to me. She was a mother when I needed one, a friend when I didn’t have any, and a support beam when I lost my footing. She is the guardian angel who watches over me, and she’s been so from the very beginning. I don’t know how to break the news that I’m moving out after prom.
I run my fingertips through the hair spilling over my shoulder. “Is Jace home?” I meant for it to sound blasé, but the question falls off my lips like a pathetic plea.
“Nah, he was gone before I even got up this mornin’. I dunno where that boy’s gone off to, but he better be back here before you’re gone, or I’m gonna whoop his ass into next Thursday.”
I can’t help but laugh. He probably went to get new tires.
She gestures toward me with her chin. “You keep tuggin’ your hair like that, you’re gonna tug them curls flatter than a pancake.”
“Shit.” My gaze moves to the clock on the wall. “Dusty’s stopping by after work to see me off. Will you let me know when he gets here?”
“Sure, yeah.”
I spin on my nude peep toe and scurry back into my room. Heat radiates off the iron still plugged into the wall. I twist a fallen tendril around the barrel and wait for a few seconds before letting it go. The fresh curl bounces to my shoulder.
A swath of black moves past my peripheral seconds before the door slams. I drop my arms to look. Jace stands with his back against the time-worn wood. My heart skips a beat. I’m not sure if it's excitement to see him or unease as to what he is up to. "To what may I owe this marvelous encounter?"
His gaze scans up my legs and over my breasts before rising to meet my eyes. It smolders like the hot iron in my hand. He shrugs and continues eyeing me like a meal. "Nothing, really."
“Then tell me what you want and go. I don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”
“What you said outside yesterday. Was that true?”
I set the iron on the dresser and turn back toward the mirror to hide my trembling lips. “That I’m leaving? Yes. I already worked it out with Dusty. I’m going to stay with him until I leave for New York.”
“No.” He moves as if he’s about to step toward me but doesn’t. “Not that. The other thing.”
I drop my palms on the dresser and stare at my reflection. A thick layer of tension swims through the room. I breathe in through my nose and let it dribble from my glossy lips. I should lie and let him off the hook. Tell him I didn’t mean it and watch him walk out of my life forever, but the words sit in my throat, lodged under the rock that’s beginning to form.
Warmth fills the space behind me, his masculine scent filling my nostrils. My chest rises as our eyes lock inside the mirror. He’s seen me naked, flicked his tongue over every inch of my body, but his eyes don’t have the same savage gleam I’m used to seeing. A hint of something else flashes in those cobalt orbs. Emotion. It moves through his gaze like water crashing on the sand. “You look really beautiful.”
“No thanks to you.”
“That pink princess dress didn’t suit you anyway. But this?” Calloused fingertips graze over the skinny shoulder strap, down my back, then across the elastic band on my arm. An army of goose bumps arises in his wake. “This is all you.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”
He winces as if he’s hurt. “It’s a compliment. You walk around pretendin’ you’re all sweet and wholesome, but I know the truth. You’re fuckin’ feral.”
“Maybe that’s because you drive me to the brink of insanity.”
“Bitch, please. You’ve had the keys the whole time.”
I swallow hard. “Well, this is my stop, and I’m getting out.”
“Don’t play. You got at least one more ride in ya.” He wraps his hands around my waist and yanks me against him. Through the thin panels of satin and tulle, the hard ridge of his erection pushes against my ass.
“We’re not doing this again,” I snap, but the words slip off my tongue too breathy and wanton for my own good.
He slides the hair away from my neck and sinks his teeth into my flesh. Arousal floods my core as he bites down hard. “You know what I think? I think you like it. The fightin’, the cussin’ … the more it hurts, the hotter it is.” I hate him more for being right. His roving hand finds its way under my skirts. When he dips beneath the string of my thong, the cheap material snaps.
I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“Takin’ what’s mine.”
Beads of sweat dapple the dresser between my palms. “I don’t remember you staking claim.”
A gravelly chuckle rattles his chest as he drops his pants. “Then you haven’t been paying attention.”
Bending me over, he drives into my slick heat. A quiet rasp puffs from my lungs. Cindy’s just on the other side of the door. Dusty will be here any minute, followed by Troy.
But Jace’s husky whisper clings to my mind. There’s a jagged edge to his voice. An ache that’s on the outskirts of something, yet he’s afraid to cross over. It’s not just about sex, not this time. He’s testing the waters. Gauging my reaction to his unspoken confession. He tortures me with his stillness. I arch into him, trying to build the friction between us, but he holds me steady, filling me to the hilt.
“Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.” It flows off my lips like a sacrament. I can’t deny it, nor do I want to.
He rocks his pelvis one time, making me whimper. “What do you want me to do?”
“Make me yours.”
“Watch,” he growls. Reaching around my throat, he forces my head up. I meet his fervent stare in the reflection before me. “I want you to watch me own this tight little pussy.”
“You already do,” I simper. I press my hand to the mirror, holding myself taut as he slams into me again. Long, powerful strokes ride me into oblivion.
My inner walls clench as he squeezes his fingers around my neck. Fire explodes in my half-lidded eyes, smoldering like burning embers dripping around us. This is Jace’s power. I’m a slave to his command. Whatever he wants is his to take. I bestow it unto him like an offering to the gods, my body, my heart, my soul. It’s all for him.
The sharp smack of his free hand comes down on the meaty part of my ass cheek. It elicits a moan that twirls around us like twine. “Again,” I beg. “Please.”
His lips curl in a wicked grin, a devious flicker rolling over his volatile stare. “Sweet and innocent,” he snarls with a snicker and a second spank, this one harder than the last, making a frantic frenzy of sobs rush from my lips. “Later tonight, you’ll wear this dress to be his demure little partner, but in the back of your mind, you’ll know you wore it first to be my whore.”
A third smack radiates up my spine. I purr as my climax hits hard and fast. Corded muscles flex in his neck. A deep growl sounds low in his throat seconds before he tears himself away. Pearls of hot cum squirt on my tailbone. He swipes at it with his fingertips and brings it to my lips. The salty-sweet flavor trickles across my tongue. I suck them into my mouth and swallow him down like an obedient housecat.
With his hand still tight on my throat, he tips my head back, fusing our lips in a delicate kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. “You’re a fuckin’ freak …” He lets out a contented sigh between our coupling. “And no one knows it but me.” Smooth and sincere, the beast within him wanes to a sensual side rarely seen. He sweeps my tattered thong off the floor and uses it to wipe away what’s left of his release, then chucks it into the corner.
Without his support, shaking legs give way beneath me. I fall to a crouch, still gripping the edge of the dresser to keep from falling over. Jace’s possession pelts down on me like rain from the heavens. It splits the sky like an electrical storm threatening to destroy anything that gets in its way.
I wince as I pull myself to my feet. The sting of his sensual assault still burns my flesh. I yank open the drawer and pull out a fresh pair of panties, feeling his eyes boring into me as I undo what just happened in a thinly veiled attempt to make myself presentable. “You got what you wanted. You can go now.”
He takes me in his arms. “That’s not what I came for.” His satisfied stare smolders. He presses his long body against mine and whispers his husky demand like a secret. “I want to hear you say you love me again.”
“Why? So you can use it against me?”
He drops his forehead to mine, his eyes fluttering closed. “So you can teach me how to say it back.”
When the doorbell rings, I almost miss it over the sound of my beating heart. Jace runs a hand through his hair, then clamps the back of his neck as he turns away.
“That’s for you, I guess.” The broken shards of his arrogance crumble to the floor. I hear it in his voice, the way it cracks as he tells me to go.
The urge to pull him to me comes on strong, but I know if I do, I’ll never let go. A world of possibilities waits for me outside this door. One with music and laughter, elegant dresses, and country club cocktails. A world I should be aching to run back to, but instead, I find myself shying away. Reaching out for the simpleness of a basic life. Except things with Jace are never simple. He breaks me down to my baser urges. He toes the line between passion and discord, both of them bringing me to my knees.
