His hands come up to cup either side of my face as he rocks his hips forward again. “Matilda.”
He builds up a rhythm now, becoming frenzied. I hold onto his big arms, recalling the times I’ve seen him out in the garden doing body weight exercises. He had virtually no equipment, but managed to do so many things using just his body, like a prison workout. I wonder what other things he can do with it.
I lick my lips. What does this mean? Is he just horny again, like when he’d suggested going down on me? Or does he really want this?
He growls and leans down, taking the bottom lip I just licked into his mouth and biting it — hard. It doesn’t hurt. It feels incredible. Electric. I want him to kiss me now, so badly. Then the front door opens and shuts loudly, my dad’s trademark walk clipping down the hall.
Jay goes still as a statue, releasing my lip and pulling back.
“Matilda? Are you home?” Dad calls, and my breath leaves me in a rush.
“I really should go now,” I whisper, feeling mortified at what I’m doing with my parent just downstairs. It was like I was lost in a dream for a few blissful moments. My dad’s door slamming is what woke me up, and I feel stupid for falling into horny Jay’s trap.
He rolls over onto his back, and I get up, slipping my shoes on and hurrying to the door. When I reach it, I glance back at him one last time. He’s lying there, his eyes dark as he watches me, chest heaving, his arousal still blatantly evident through his pants.
With great effort I walk out the door, shutting it behind me and calling back to Dad, “Yeah, I’m home.”
***
The next morning is different from usual. Jay’s not around, and my breakfast isn’t ready for me like it has been every day since he moved in. In fact, when I pass by his room, I see his bed has been made and he’s nowhere to be found. He must have gone out early.
Dad’s sitting at the table, eating toast and drinking coffee, reading the newspaper as always. I grab a yogurt and some fruit, and sit beside him. When I notice the paper he’s reading is The Daily Post, I give a little tut of disapproval.
“Jay wouldn’t be happy about you reading that,” I say, opening my yogurt.
Dad peeks at me over the paper. “Jay’s the one who gave it to me. Una Harris has written another article about him.”
I perk up at this. “Really? What did she say?”
He puts the paper down now, opened on the page with the article so that I can see. There in a full-page spread is Jay standing on the stage in the part where he’d donned the Jason mask for his show the other night.
“Harris went undercover and attended Jay’s show,” Dad explains. “She wrote some unfavourable things. I think she’s feeling brave because he hasn’t taken any steps against her yet. He really needs to get that lawsuit filed. A couple of years ago she destroyed the career of a professional football player by doing an exposé of his background as a drug dealer before he was famous. I think she might be trying to repeat the success of that story with Jay. The woman is a pit bull.”
I eye my father. “You really like Jay, don’t you?”
“I can tell he’s a good man. I trust my instincts,” says Dad simply, and it surprises me because I’d had those same instincts myself.
I read the article, and this time I’m far more annoyed as I scan Miss Harris’ words. That’s probably because I know Jay now, and I’m defensive of my friends. She talks about how the venue was filled with super fans, and that Jay has a following akin to a cult leader. I roll my eyes.
She also mentions how he insulted her and her newspaper, shouting with fervour from his place on the stage, Fuck the Daily Post! I could strangle her right now. That is not what happened. It was an audience member who shouted that. I push the paper away from me after I’ve finished her five-hundred-word rant against Jay. What is this woman’s problem? What did he ever do to deserve her vitriol?
Absolutely nothing.
She’s like a wolf who’s gotten her teeth into some flesh and doesn’t want to let go. When I continue eating my breakfast, Dad says quietly, “I’m considering taking his case.”
This surprises me. “You are?”
He nods. “I didn’t want to at first, but the more I learn about it, the more I think we could actually win this thing, and win big. The practice hasn’t been doing too well this past year or so. Winning a high-profile case like this could inject some new life into the place.”
“It could. But do you think you’re up to it?”
Dad smiles. “I’m not dead yet, chicken. But don’t say anything to Jay. I need another few days to think it over.”
“My lips are sealed.”
That evening when I arrive home from work, I go into the kitchen to find somebody’s placed an expensive-looking chaise longue along the wall in front of my sewing machine. It’s made out of dark wood, the cushioned part a luxurious purple.
Jay’s doves chirp at me from their cage.
“Hello, ladies,” I greet them. “How are you today?”
“Are you talking to Ellen and Portia?” Jay asks in amusement as he enters the room.
I turn around, smiling. “Yeah. What of it?”
He walks over to the cage, taking Portia out and letting her perch on his hand. “It’s a coincidence, because I do, too. These girls are the only ones who know all my secrets.”
“Oh. You have a lot of secrets, do you?”
His only answer is a smile that makes my belly flutter. Is he thinking about what happened between us yesterday? I know I am, but I don’t have it in me to bring it up.
“So, I never got around to asking you how the date with Owen went?” he says in a casual tone as he pets Portia’s soft white feathers. I guess Jay’s not planning on bringing up yesterday, either.
I swallow. “It went great, despite my awkwardness. He even wants to meet up again sometime.”
Jay frowns at this, and it takes me off guard. “Do you want to meet with him again?” he asks, all serious.
“Sure. He was nice.”
I think I see his jaw twitch. “Nice. Is that what you’re planning to settle for, Matilda? Just nice?”
“I’m not settling. It’s early days yet. It could just so happen that he’s the love of my life, but I need more time to get to know him.” I don’t know why I’m saying this. In the back of my mind, I know that Owen isn’t going to be the love of my life, but some sneaky part of me wants to rile Jay up. He doesn’t seem pleased with the topic, which is by contrast pleasing me no end. He puts Portia back in the cage before striding toward me, backing me up against the counter.
“He’s not the fucking love of your life, darlin’,” he says, his eyes a little manic. Whoa, I was not expecting this. Okay, subject change needed pronto. I swallow — hard.
“Dad showed me the new article. I can’t believe Harris had the gall to go see your show.”
Some of the previous tension leaves Jay’s body as he backs away from me and shrugs. “I knew she was there.”
“Hold on a second. What?”
“I knew she was there. I’m not a fucking idiot. And besides, the woman stands out like a sore thumb. She’s got these big, ridiculous Botox lips. I’m glad she wrote that article, though. The more defamatory shit she writes, the further she digs herself into a hole.”
I put a hand on my hip and cock my head. “You actually want her to write about you?”
“Yep. That way, once the case finally gets to trial, I’ll have a wealth of ammo. Every insulting lie she’s ever written can be used as evidence.”
He’s got this look in his eye that gives me pause, making me wonder if there’s more to this than he’s letting on.
“Do you know her or something? Like, from the past?”
“Nope.”
“Oh. Well, I just think it’s weird how she’s so determined to write bad things about you.”
“Perhaps I turned her down one night and she’s got a vendetta,” he jokes.
I open the fridge and start taking out ingredients for dinner while Jay paces the room. I’m sorting through vegetables when I feel the heat of his body behind mine. He braces his hands on the counter on either side of me, penning me in.