Broken Beast Page 3

  “At first, juvie. Then I realized I had a knack for making shit when I landed in prison again a few years after that.” I shrug and watch her face for a reaction.

  “Hm,” is all she says. She’s got a decent poker face, but I can sense some burning curiosity under her surface. “What’d you get arrested for?”

  I pause, wondering how much I should tell her. “Assault, disorderly conduct, things like that. Nothing too serious, since I was only in there for a year and a half.”

  Again, she manages to look relieved without having looked tense before. I can’t seem to read her clearly, which is unnerving but relatable. I had been more open with her back then than I have with anyone else since. It’s not worth trusting most people with what’s really deep inside, as I’ve learned the hard way after we broke up.

  “What are you doing up here anyway?” I ask, trying to diffuse the tension. “You said it was a work thing?”

  “Yeah. I’m a fashion designer, and my boss wants me to take some time away to design some new things. I like working with natural fibers and stuff, and this area has a lot of alpaca and sheep farms.” She fiddles with the black pendant around her neck. “Plus, I want to get away from the city.”

  “Nice.” She always talked about being a fashion designer, so it’s cool to see that she’s actually doing it. I never doubted that she would make it. “Congrats.”

  She nods and thanks me.

  “Come on — let me show you the house.”

  We head over to the main house, which is only a few short steps from the guest house and go in through the back door.

  Part of the reason I never have house guests is that my home is the most peaceful place on earth. I don’t want to disturb that. It isn’t flashy by any means, but I’ve put a lot of work into it. I made all of the furniture myself (aside from my couch) and remodeled some areas to bring it into the current century, like the bathroom and kitchen. My walls are painted colors that are gentle on the eyes, and it’s always really quiet.

  I have more than enough money to keep decking it out, but I don’t want to overdo it. It has just enough stuff to satisfy me, and everything I’ve made is built to last. My home growing up was filled with either uncomfortable tension, screaming, or drugged-out yelling, surrounded by poor quality shit that my parents bought just for appearances. I never want to live like that again.

  “Your house is really nice,” Simone comments, stopping next to me and taking in the living room. Her eyes are wide, looking over my TV stand and TV, the one visually obvious indulgence in the room. Then her eyes go to the bookcase, then my record player and collection of vinyl.

  I’m not sure if she’s impressed or not, or if it’s what she was expecting. Maybe she’s expecting something lavish. Does she know about my money? I got disinherited when I went to juvie, or so my parents told me in a rage after they couldn’t manage to buy my way out of the place. After my parents died in a car crash when I was twenty-five, I learned that they’d left the millions they’d managed to not spend away to me after all.

  I took the money, invested a lot of it, and moved up here to start my craftsman business. Thanks to some shrewd investment and careful planning, I’m worth well over a billion dollars these days. Not that anyone in this town is aware. Another benefit of not telling people about my past is that no one tries to milk me dry or get close to me just for the perks. And most people don’t know how expensive a lot of the tools I use for my business are, or how much it cost to build all of the deceptively simple looking remodels I’ve done, so no one has any idea of my wealth. I hope it stays that way.

  “Thanks.” I gesture toward the kitchen. “There’s the kitchen. I don’t cook much, so there’s space in the fridge for whatever you want to buy. I can show you where the grocery store in town is. You have anything to put in the bathroom?”

  “Oh, shoot, yes. Let me go grab it.” She brushes past me and goes back outside. A few minutes later, she comes back in with a whole goddamn suitcase. It’s not huge, but it’s big enough to give me pause.

  “Are these your towels and stuff?” I ask, because that’s the only explanation for a whole suitcase of bathroom shit.

  “No, it’s my toiletries and makeup.” She lifts the suitcase. “Show me the way.”

  I lead her to the bathroom, which, thankfully, is big. I kept the huge, clawfoot bathtub that was in the house before, but added a shower that’s big enough for me to fit. The countertop with the sink is long, with a massive mirror that spans its length. I like the long, clean lines. I only keep my toothbrush, toothpaste, and soap on the counter, so it doesn’t look cluttered. There’s a row of windows close to the ceiling that let in natural light when it’s sunny.

  Simone kneels and opens the suitcase. I watch in awe as she pulls out item after item. She has the basic stuff, like body wash and lotion, then a shitload of smaller vials and jars. She even has four candles in there, along with what looks like a pillow.

  “Jeez,” I mutter. “What is all of this?”

  “Hm?” She looks up at me from the ground, holding two small tubs, surprised I’m still there. “My stuff.”

  “No shit, but what is it?” I lean down and pick up a tube. “What the fuck is hyaluronic acid? Why are you putting acid on your face?”

  She grabs the vial and puts it back in the case. “It’s skincare. It makes your skin moisturized. Other acids take the dead skin off. Why? Are you offended by that?”

  “I’m just…” I look at the amount of skincare she has, then at her face. Her skin is really nice, so at least she’s not doing it for nothing. “I’ve never shared a bathroom with a woman before. Is this normal? Putting all of this on your face before you even put on makeup?”

  “Ever? Not even a girlfriend who stays over a lot?” She looks surprised.

  “Nope.” My last girlfriend, Alice, usually used my stuff or we stayed at her place. We only dated a year before I dumped her because… Well, I got bored. She’s a nice girl, but besides some slightly above-average sex, we didn’t have a lot of romantic chemistry. And it doesn’t help that she said I was too closed off to get serious with me.

  “Oh.” She’s clearly turning something over in her head, but she doesn’t say anything about my girlfriend comment. She starts putting her stuff away. “I just like pampering myself. It’s fun. Makes my skin soft and smooth. Makes my lips not super chapped in this dry air.”

  I make a little sound in the back of my throat, acknowledging what she said, and she looks up at me. Her greenish eyes have a playful sparkle in them that makes me want her so badly that it takes my breath away for a second. It’s the kind of look women have given me when they’re interested but aren’t sure if they should go for it. It’s also the number one thing that’ll break my will to keep my hands to myself.

  I fuck with my hair instead of doing something stupid. Is she flirting with me, or am I just projecting my hopes that she is onto her?

  “And I get a lot of free stuff, so I didn’t buy all of this,” she continues, going back to what she was doing.

  “I thought you said you were a fashion designer?”

  “Some of my friends are makeup artists and models.” She glances at the bottom of a vial and puts it on the counter. “So they pass along extra stuff.”

  “Wow. Models and makeup artists?” I hope I don’t sound weirded out, even though I am. I never would have dreamed she’d hang with people like that, but then again, I never dreamed she’d come back to in my life at all. Maybe I’m imagining things differently than they actually were.

  “Yeah. I’m still best friends with Gigi, though.” She shrugs. “She works at a makeup company, so lots of this stuff is from her.”

  “Oh, cool.” I remember Gigi. She was attached to Simone at the hip, so by extension, I was kind of attached to Gigi, too. She knew I was trouble in a lot of ways, but she always gave me a chance because Simone liked me. “Some things don’t change.”

  “Right?” she says with a smile. That teeny
fucking space between her teeth makes me want her even more. What’s my problem? “Are you still friends with anyone from back then?”

  “Nope.” I don’t mean to sound so brusque, but that’s how the words come out. I’m not sure why they do, because I haven’t even once thought about my high school friends since then.

  “Oh.” She stands up and arranges her stuff on the countertop, unfazed by my tone. My eye twitches at the new amount of clutter, but I rein it back in.

  An awkward silence falls onto the room as she takes a bunch of bottles to the shower. I can’t just walk out, can I? Maybe I should. I want to dry my hands on a towel, but that would look weird if I don’t wash my hands first.

  I fucking hate this. No wonder I’ve only stumbled into relationships after hook-ups — these moments of wondering whether every little thing she does is a sign of attraction are irritating. And I hate being this self-conscious. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt it this acutely.

  “Can you help me put these up here?” she asks, holding up a candle and pointing at a high shelf. “I don’t know why I brought these. I doubt I’ll use them often.”

  “Sure.” I take the candle from her and easily put it on the shelf. It smells like lavender.

  “You’ve gotten even bigger,” she says, looking up at me. That same impish gleam is in her eyes. “I thought you were done growing back in high school.”

  “Maybe it seems like that because you’re still the same height, I think.” I rest my hand on the top of her head, which I always used to do. “Nah, maybe you’ve grown a quarter inch.”

  “Wow, so exact.” She smirks.

  “I’ve just noticed you’ve grown, and I have a good eye for measurements,” I say. I’m not lying — she probably is just a tiny bit taller — but it comes out like an innuendo. Her cheeks go pink right away, but she doesn’t look put off. She almost looks pleased. We look at each other for a beat, not saying anything.

  “Um, anyway.” She slides out from underneath my hand, her face going serious again despite the pink flush to her cheeks.

  I step back to give her more space. I fucked that up, didn’t I? But I swear, there was a hint of pleasure on her face before she threw up that wall. That alone still has me yearning despite my misstep.

  “I’ll be out back in my workspace if you need me,” I break the silence, leaving before I start thinking with my dick before my brain. I don’t even look back at her to see if she says anything.

  Chapter Three

  Simone

  My ceiling is different. Instead of the plain white with a water stain that the super hasn’t covered up, I’m looking up at wooden beams. My eyes fly open and I sit up, clutching my blankets. Where the hell am I?

  Finally, the wheels in my brain start rolling again. I’m in Jay’s guest house, on his sleeper sofa. The sheets are warm and flannel, so different from my own back home. In the silence of the area, I slept like the dead.

  After he abruptly left me unpacking my stuff in the bathroom, I fended for myself, annoyed that I had to find sheets and blankets. In fact, I’m still annoyed. What’s his deal? We were getting along just fine. Sure, I got a little skittish when it seemed like things were veering in a flirty direction, but things were friendly. But then he just left and didn’t come by again for the rest of the night.

  Whatever. If he’s going to be weird, then so be it. I’m here for more pressing things than starting things up with my high school ex-boyfriend who may or may not be a felon. My parents hated him because his whole look screamed ‘danger’ back then. I guess they’ll be happy to learn they were right about him, if I ever tell them we’ve reconnected.

  I want to curl up in bed and stay for the rest of the morning, but nature’s calling. It’s freezing outside still, but I don’t want to put on my coat and boots just to walk a couple yards to the house. I dig my fluffy robe out of my bags and slide it on over my silky chemise and matching shorts. I have flip flops around here somewhere. It takes me a few minutes to find them, but once I have them, I book it out the door before I get too cold.

  I make it inside and to the bathroom, suddenly feeling like an intruder. His house is just as silent as outside. Is he awake? Where’s his bedroom, anyway? Not that I need to go in there ever. Or need to think about what his bed is like, ever.

  I sigh and open the door to the bathroom, only to find it already occupied. The lights are off, and it’s only lit up with natural light, but that doesn’t stop me from seeing all of Jay’s naked body in the mirror.

  He clearly just woke up, because he’s rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, getting the sleep out of them and groaning. God, his body is almost indescribably good. He’s got muscle for days, rippling under his skin even with the simple movement of rubbing his eyes. He has more tattoos than what I saw yesterday, decorating his skin from his left shoulder down to the cleft of his very, very great ass. He looks powerful, like he actually uses the muscles to do things. The rest of puberty was very kind to him.

  Against my better judgement, I look in the mirror again, and holy shit. His cock is hard, and thick. Like, the thickest I’ve seen in the flesh, making my pussy twitch. Is it out of fear of being inside of me, or is it horniness? I imagine him bending me over the counter and pounding me from behind until I can’t walk straight for days. And then images of him with his head between my thighs, all that thick brown hair tickling me as his tongue works its magic on me.

  Yeah, it’s horniness, burning from the inside out. I forgot I could feel like this, since Max definitely never made me feel this way.

  I must have made a sound, because Jay drops his arms and swears, leaping to shut the door. I squeak and turn, darting down the hallway. Oh God. Please kill me. Why didn’t I think to knock? But also, who just stands in their bathroom butt naked with the lights off? Especially when he knows he has a guest?

  I put my hands on my cheeks, which literally feel like I’ve caught a fever. I can’t un-see that. I’ll never be able to get him out of my head now. Between his face, his body, and our past, I’m going to be so horny that I’ll probably implode by the end of my stay.

  “Hey, Simone?” Jay calls down the hall. He’s put on black shorts, but no shirt, and I think he still has a freaking hard-on, even from this distance. Just shoot me, universe. Shouldn’t being startled kill a boner? He’s sort of covering himself with his hands, but he doesn’t seem too bothered. He mostly looks sleepy. Does he think I don’t notice what’s going on down under, or is he still half-awake somehow?

  “Mm?” is all I can manage to say.

  “I’m sorry. I should have locked the door. My brain doesn’t work until I have coffee, and I forgot that you’d need the bathroom,” he explains, his deep voice still rough from sleep. Ugh, that voice is not helping this situation. It’s so wonderfully deep.

  “It’s fine!” I say, my voice still at least an octave higher than it usually is. “I’m sorry I didn’t knock.”

  “It’s free now.” He turns his back and goes down the hall, presumably to his bedroom.

  I scuttle in to pee and do my morning skin routine. I focus on each and every step, even throwing in some that I don’t usually do every day. The familiarity of it doesn’t do a damn thing to calm me down or alleviate my mortification. I do not need any distractions. Yeah, Katya wants me to relax and work on these collections, but I want to use the time to work on my own stuff, too.

  I slap toner onto my face with a little too much enthusiasm, then finish up with moisturizer. I don’t want to bother with makeup, especially since I’m just planning on going into town. The faster I can get dressed, the faster I can put as much distance between me and Jay as possible.

  It’s unseasonably warm for late March, so I put on a slouchy sweater, leggings, my favorite leather jacket, and comfortable heeled boots. It’s a relief, not having to dress way up or try to impress. All of my clothes are well-made and fit properly, but sometimes, I just want to be cozy.

  I hop into my car
and follow my GPS back to the main drag of town. The ride is mostly empty fields, some with goats and alpaca, and others that are just empty, the mountains in the far background.

  The town is really cute, and even though it’s mid-morning on a weekday, it’s bustling with activity. There really are a lot of businesses, which is surprising in a tiny town like this. I guess people nearby like to come through to get to the hiking trails ten or so miles over. I saw signs for them on the drive in. I park at one end of the main road so I can walk around.

  Thank God there’s a bagel place right next to where I’ve parked. I go in to get something to eat and a cup of coffee. I could smell that Jay made some coffee before I left, but like hell was I going to stick around. Imagine that awkward conversation.

  The woman inside looks positively thrilled to see me. So much so that I look behind me to see if she’s looking at someone else. But no, she’s just incredibly friendly. She makes me a bagel with cream cheese with care and doesn’t let me leave until my coffee has the perfect ratio of coffee to sugar and cream.

  Wow. This is already off to a good start. This morning wasn’t a bad omen after all.

  I walk and eat my bagel, since I want to do a quick lap to get a sense of where everything is first. I pass by a gas station, a dry cleaner, and a tavern that looks like it’ll be fun when it’s open. Maybe I’ll get over my embarrassment over seeing Jay naked sometime in the next one hundred years and we can get a beer or something.

  I find the grocery store, then the drug store. There’s even a little witchy apothecary and a few places to grab a bite to eat for lunch. Finally, I come across the place that I came for — Natasha’s Yarn and Fabric. I stumbled upon it by accident when I was looking for places to stay during my time off, and it sounded perfect. I hope it lives up to my expectations. It’s one of the larger buildings on the main strip, in one half of an old factory. The Yelp reviews say it’s a hidden gem, and people come from the surrounding towns to shop there. It must be good, since the town isn’t huge by any means. If there are enough people to keep the business alive, they must have a lot of customers.