Brawler (7 page)

She sighs and rubs her temple. She does that when she’s spent. Tomorrow I’ll feel bad about this, but tonight I don’t have it in me. I put both hands on her shoulders and pull her into me. She doesn’t hesitate. Wrapping her arms around me she tilts her head up to meet mine with what I can tell is in effort to soothe me, to make me feel better, like I haven’t been a world class asshole since meeting her.

“Ben is just a friend, a study partner.”

“I’ve seen Ben, remember? Tall, good looking, smart, probably has money, says all the right things and follows you around like a puppy. He wants you, Princess. I want you, I told you I did. Difference between me and him? I won’t follow you around wagging my tail.” Which is a fucking lie.

“I’ve been helping him study, and he’s been assisting me with data. I don’t know what goes on in his brain, but he’s never said anything or been inappropriate. I don’t want him. He’s a friend, Jonas. I wouldn’t lie about it, and I also don’t want a puppy.”

“What do you want, then?”

“I want a partner.”

“You’re gonna have to be specific here, Princess. I have a habit of not grasping the bigger picture.”

“I’m a nerd, Jonas. I like to learn. No, that’s not true, I love to learn. I’d rather stay in and study than go out and party. I learned to defend myself out of necessity, not bragging rights, and I’d still rather hide than confront someone. I’ve always been a good girl to people, I guess, so when Briggs took notice, I soaked it up. He was a cop, big and strong, and had that bad boy thing going on. I liked the attention at first. He didn’t like that I was smart or that I zoned out when I focused on something. He liked having all of my attention. He didn’t listen to me and didn’t want to be a part of my world. My world is medicine and Venessa, now you and Rogan too, I suppose. I guess the point is, I want whomever I’m with to be content with
me.
I wear glasses, I’m low-maintenance, and outside of Venessa, I have no family. I’m not a great catch, and I’m not going to change. I want to save lives and make a difference, and if I have to do that alone, I’m okay with that, too.”

Taking all of this in wasn’t easy. The only reason I was able to stand still and not shake her was because her arms were around me and her head was resting on my chest again. I’ve never had a woman pour her heart out to me before. They usually yell at me to shut up and go away. I’ve also never heard someone who is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen think so little of herself. Clearly she doesn’t see what I see, and if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll change that.

“Look at me, Princess.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“I’m a nerd. Nerds don’t get the guy, Jonas. They get the leftovers, and it’s okay. I mean, I have some moments that aren’t totally awkward, but even then I’m average, and it’s all right. I have some decent issues too. Pages of them if you had a pen handy. Trust, self-esteem, fashion choices to name a few. I really could go on for hours about it. If you want to put an end to this now, I would understand. Actually, that’s probably the best plan of action.”

“Why would I want you to go when all I ever wanted was you here?”

“Why would you want me to stay? I just told you I’m not worth it.”

“Christ, you’re clueless, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure if you’re insulting me again or not, so fill me in before I get pissed.”

“I’m not insulting you, Princess. I just don’t know how you can’t see it. I’m so into everything about you I can’t fucking think straight. All the shit you mentioned that you think are turn-offs ain’t turn-offs to me, you get what I’m saying?”

“Not really.”

“You love to learn, which is hot. You like low-key, which is hot. You kicked my ass, which is hot. You tazed me twice, which wasn’t hot but hurt, but you did it in defense of Venessa. I also think you look beautiful in whatever you wear. Glasses, pajamas? Doesn’t matter. Just as long as it’s for me.”

“You confuse me, Jonas.”

“You call me Jonas, too; that really seals the deal for me, by the way. No one calls me Jonas but you, and I like it that way.”

“What happens when I’m not enough?”

“What happens when you’re more than enough?”

“What do
you
really want with me?”

“Just you, Princess. All of you, all the time. Just be patient with me, all right? I know I come down hard on you about your safety, I just can’t fucking help it. I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“True. But I can’t stop being who I am any more than you can,” I say, tucking her hair behind an ear so I can see her face better.

“Do you have this talk with all the women you’re involved with? How many of them have you moved into your house?”

“What?”

“What? It’s a serious question.”

“I get that. I just can’t believe you asked. No, you’re the first.”
The only,
I think to myself.

“But aren’t you a serial dater?”

“Uh, not exactly …”

“Okay. Not a serial dater, then? You just hook up a lot?”

“Damn, you just go straight for it, don’t you?”

“It’s a simple question, Jonas.”

Laughing and blushing I realized I fucked myself with my big lying mouth. All these months of trying to impress her could blow up in my face if I don’t play this right.

“It’s anything but simple, Princess. Let’s head home and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

H
e said “home” like it was no big deal. But to me, it is. It’s bouncing around in my brain and it won’t stop. Exiting the hallway, that word keeps bouncing around in my brain, making me nervous. Home. Such a simple word, but it implies so much. A home is something I’ve never had. I’ve lived in the same house all of my life, but it’s never been a home. A roof, yeah. A place to study and crash, sure, and for a time even a nightmare, but never a home. Home implies security and longevity. Sadly, those aren’t things I know much about.

We are both quiet on the ride back. I have so many questions, but I also don’t feel it’s my place to ask. Social etiquette is not my forte. I tend to be rather blunt and factual, and part of me worries I won’t like what he has to say. Jonas brags about his prowess often so I assumed that … Wait, what do they say about braggers? Let’s think on this. Typically what Jonas says and what Jonas means varies quite a bit. Not that I’m calling him a liar, but I think some of the things he says are meant to impress me even when they come out wrong. In the months I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him hit on other women, or spend time with one particular woman. Good thing she doesn’t exist, because I’d probably rip her hair out.

So am I to assume he has more women then he brags about? Or less? I’m no virgin, so it’s not like I’m jealous (much), but the last man to get between these thighs was a rough and inconsiderate, so I haven’t been trolling for cock lately. Mainly because, well? I’m afraid to. I don’t fear Jonas, I fear my reaction
to
Jonas. Like I’m going to become a stage-five clinger if he shows me the smallest amount of kindness. Yeah, when I’m in a drought, I am fucking pathetic.

Like most men, Briggs started off concerned about my pleasure, and I appreciated that and reciprocated in return. He had a healthy appetite like I did. Once he started using, he became less and less considerate and more dominant to the point it was nothing more than sexual abuse. People say “walk away,” but you know what? When it’s happening to you? It’s just not that fucking easy.

However, when I did try and walk away and that ended badly for me, I changed. So at this point in my life, I’m what you call gun shy. Past partners were just that, the past. I can hardly remember names or faces anymore. In the deepest part of my heart though, I know Jonas Rafe is different, and that’s what throws me off balance.

We pull into his driveway and I find myself very self-conscious. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m average, I am. He, though, isn’t average. He’s so far above average it isn’t funny. He cuts the engine and my panic grows. Does he expect me to just give it up when we walk in? Would I disappoint him? Fucking Briggs. He isn’t even in my life and he’s still messing it up from a distance. I’m questioning myself again, and it’s pissing me off.

Jonas gets out and I know to wait. He always opens my door for me and helps me down. He puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me to his front door. From the exterior, it’s a typical Detroit brick bungalow, but when he opens the door my jaw must have dropped, because he called me on it.

“Like what you see?”

“I do.”

I stand there almost frozen. My mind is working out each and every detail. The carved mantle on the fireplace, the original oak floors, and even the amazing artwork adorning the walls. Say what you want about Detroit, but no other place rivals these antique homes. Not a one.

“That mantle was carved by my grandpa; he was the original owner of this house.”

“He was a talented man. How did you get it? The house, I mean.”

“He left it to me when he died; I’ve had it for about eleven years now. He was a cop, too.”

“You even kept the original doorknobs. This is amazing, Jonas. You’ve managed to keep the bones of this home sacred. He would have been proud.”

“Let’s hit the kitchen; it’s my favorite room.”

He leads me into the kitchen, which is typically the smallest area in these homes. I never understood why, because back then people had larger families and needed the space to cook. What do I know, anyway? I’m just speculating. I’m an only child, and the only one ever cooking in our kitchen was me.

But I appreciate a good eating space, and apparently so does he, because he turned this into what I consider a chef’s dream kitchen. He has stainless steel everything, and it suits him perfectly. He kept the original cabinets, brass, tile floor, and countertops, but refurbished them all. The end result was a kitchen that looked twice its size. He has stained glass hanging from the windows and a wicked breakfast bar and wine cooler. To say I’m impressed is an understatement.

“Based on this kitchen, you must be an accomplished cook.”

“I do okay.” He blushes. “It’s just me, so it’s never fine dining. You like it?”

“I love it. You did this yourself, didn’t you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Every detail, every inch of this kitchen screams your name.”

I notice right away he looks uncomfortable about something I just said, but for the life of me I don’t know what it is.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look like you’re in pain?”

“I guess this would be a good time for me to start talking.”

“Why not just answer the question? If I said something I shouldn’t have, I’d like to know about it.”

“That’s just it, you didn’t. You mentioned screaming my name and my mind wandered.”

“I didn’t mention anything about screaming your name specifically; I was referring to the handiwork in the kitchen.”

“My mind knows that, Princess, but my cock doesn’t. All it heard was ‘screaming my name.’”

At that, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Enough stalling, spill it.”

“I’m not good at this talking shit. Especially to you, you’re so fucking with it. I’ve never brought a woman here, and until you, I never wanted to. So that bathroom talk was just bullshit because I didn’t know what else to say. Let’s just say chicks I tried to get to know weren’t big on getting to know me back.”

“What kind of women did you date? That seems pretty harsh to me.”

“Pretty much the opposite of you.”

“The opp — oh.” I stare at the floor trying to work out if what he said was a compliment or an insult, but it’s obvious my self-esteem is in the shitter when I’m ready to bail, because I can’t bear this kind of humiliation right now.

“Princess, wait,” he begins. “It was a compliment, I swear. The few I’ve dated were crazy at best and idiots at worst. You, though, you’re my fucking princess. You’re so goddamned perfect, that’s what I meant.”

“I’m not perfect, Jonas. Please don’t make me into something I’m not.”

“You’re perfect for me.”

“I don’t know how to be perfect for you. I don’t know how to walk straight around you half the time.”

“Just be you, that’s all I want. I may have dated some, but I’ve never had a serious girlfriend. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work, but I’m going to mess up, too. This is new for me, and I want to get it right. You’re it for me, Macy. No one else exists for me, just you.”

“We barely know each other.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“What happens when—”

When his face tenses up it causes me to tense up, so when he takes a step forward, I take one back. Whoa. What did I just miss? My eyes go round when he grabs my face and kisses the ever-loving shit out of me. Even though it’s damn near impossible to keep up with his moods, I can totally work with this.