Pretty soon, JJ would have to move out of Baz’s apartment, find a house of her own again. She no longer had any excuses because the insurance had come through; she’d gotten a check to cover the value of the house after it burned to the ground. She’d even gotten a check for the SUV that had been a casualty as well. However, she had managed to put off getting a place and even another vehicle because she had come to rely on Baz to be there for her. They both pretended not to notice that JJ was terrified to be alone, but it was the truth. She wasn’t sure she could stay somewhere by herself, but she wouldn’t know until she tried.
“You still wanna watch a movie?” Baz asked as he was pulling into the apartment complex, winding his way around to his building.
“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” she said, staring out the window once more. “I’m tired.”
“Okay.”
Just like every time, Baz didn’t push, didn’t encourage her to spend time with him. He was always there to support her, never asking for more than she was willing to give.
And that in itself saddened her more than anything.
Two hours later, JJ was still tossing and turning in her bed, unable to fall asleep. When she’d gotten inside, she’d gone straight to her bedroom. She’d washed her face and taken a shower, then pulled on one of the oversized T-shirts she slept in. This one was Baz’s, a Guns N’ Roses one she’d snagged out of the laundry when he wasn’t looking. When she closed her eyes, she immediately saw images of Baz and the baby he would soon have. It had pained her to the point she couldn’t close her eyes any longer, so she’d settled for staring at the ceiling fan, counting backward from one hundred. She’d done that five times.
Now here she was, staring at the crack beneath the bedroom door. She could see a light flicker every so often, knew Baz was in the living room with the television on. If she had to guess, he had fallen asleep with the remote in his hand. Knowing him, he would’ve showered, then emerged from his room wearing only a pair of shorts, his muscular chest bare. Thinking about his chest gave way to thoughts of other parts of him, leading to rapid breathing and more irritation.
Before she could talk herself out of it, JJ swung her legs off the bed, pushed to her feet. She padded across the room, out the door, down the short hall, and came to a stop when she saw him exactly as she’d expected. His long, lean body, clad only in a pair of athletic shorts, was laid out on the couch, his legs crossed at the ankles, bare feet propped up on the arm. He had the remote in his hand, resting on his chiseled stomach, his head cocked at an unnatural angle. The lights had been turned off with the exception of the flicker of the television, but it was enough for her to see him clearly.
It would’ve been best for both of them if she could’ve turned around and gone back to bed, pretended she wasn’t attracted to this man on an intrinsic level, that she didn’t want him with every breath she took. They wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer, so it made sense that she would cut it off now, find a way to have a friendship with him since he would be otherwise entangled with Molly for at least the next eighteen years.
But she didn’t turn around, and when she took a step closer, she obviously made a sound, because Baz’s eyes opened slowly, his gaze lingering on her as she approached.
His smile was genuine, as was his reaction when he set the remote on the floor before opening his arms to welcome her down to him.
Without thinking, JJ settled over him, her chest to his, her knees straddling his hips. Her lips found his in a dance they’d been doing for months now. Baz allowed her to lead in the beginning, giving her the option of setting the pace. And when things heated up, when the sexual tension between them became a conflagration, he took over, flipping their positions so that she was beneath him, his knee settled between her thighs.
“JJ,” he whispered against her mouth. “God, JJ.”
She knew how he felt, knew that this was what they both needed. This connection was undeniable, albeit unsustainable. And it seemed the closer and closer they got to Baz becoming a father, JJ wanted him more and more. She wanted to sate this urge so that when they separated indefinitely, she wouldn’t be left with the cold, lonely ache that she had when she wasn’t with him.
Baz shoved her T-shirt up to her neck, his hand cupping her breast, kneading firmly, roughly until she was writhing beneath him, grinding herself on his steely thigh, begging him for more. He finally offered more when he pulled her panties down her legs, tossing them behind him before he shouldered his way between her thighs, his tongue finding her wet, aching center. Baz worked her like only he could, bringing her to the pinnacle, forcing her to drop back down before taking her higher again.
Only when she came, only when she screamed his name and clawed his back did he move over her, settling between her thighs and driving into her in one deliciously punishing thrust. There were no barriers separating them anymore. They’d stopped using condoms months ago, promising that for as long as this went on, they wouldn’t be with anyone else. JJ had welcomed the closeness, relying on birth control to keep them from going down a path neither of them was ready for.
“JJ,” Baz moaned, thrusting his hips, driving deep inside her. “Baby…”
JJ held on, her nails clawing down his back because she couldn’t seem to get close enough. She stared up into his face, and he pushed up on his hands, shifting the angle, the penetration, as she wrapped her legs around his hips and let him take them both right up to that razor-sharp edge and then over the cliff into erotic ecstasy.
Neither of them whispered the three words that would change their lives forever, but they hung there between them.
Unspoken.
Never spoken.
Chapter Four
Monday, September 6, 2021
A strong storm rolled in sometime during the night, waking Reese in the early-morning hours.
The man beside him tossed and muttered, trapped somewhere in his mind. Reese knew all too well what Brantley was enduring because he had his own nightmares, some of them growing more intense in recent months.
“Brantley,” Reese whispered, placing a firm hand on Brantley’s chest, trying to soothe but not crowd.
He knew better. If he didn’t want to get a fist to the face or strong hands wrapped tightly around his throat, he had to give the man space and time to emerge from the terror that gripped him in his dreams. The nightmares Brantley suffered, the ones spurred by storms, were usually violent, more so than even the ones Reese succumbed to on occasion.
He kept on, nudging Brantley, urging him to wake up until he was all but shouting.
Tesha came to investigate, leaping up onto the bed, sitting on Reese’s feet, keeping a safe distance from the action.
“Brantley, it’s a dream.” He brushed a hand over Brantley’s shorn hair. “Wake up. I’ve got you.”
Suddenly, the thrashing and groaning stopped, leaving the room eerily silent, only Brantley’s harsh breaths surrounding them.
Reese didn’t move, didn’t lean in. He knew all too well how disconcerting the nightmares could be. He’d had his fair share this past year. Ever since he’d found those women locked in that windowless room, chained to beds, trapped in a living hell, he’d been reminded of his own hell. The months he’d spent caged in a six-by-six concrete tomb partially buried beneath the ground, believing that would eventually be his coffin. He could still hear the grating sound of the generator as it powered the camp. He could sometimes smell the food they’d cooked but refused to share.