Chapter 6: Jealousy, Confessions, and the Kitchen Counter
The lock turned with a click that seemed too loud for the hour, for the mood, for the way Jess was sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs crossed and a cigarette burning down to nothing between her fingers.
She didn't look up when the door opened. Just took a drag and blew smoke toward the open window, watching it curl into the dark like it had somewhere better to be.
Cole's footsteps were heavy on the linoleum. Keys hit the counter with a metallic clatter. His belt creaked as he leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, watching her.
"You're up."
"Astute observation, Officer."
"Jess."
She finally looked at him. The flickering bulb above the sink cast shadows under his eyes, made the lines around his mouth deeper than they were. He looked tired. More than tired. He looked like he'd been carrying something heavy all day and hadn't figured out where to put it down.
"There's wine," she said, tilting the bottle toward him. "If you want."
"I don't."
"Okay."
She stubbed out the cigarette on the windowsill. A bad habit. She'd have to scrub the mark later. Or not. The landlord didn't care. Nobody cared about anything in this apartment except the roaches and the mice.
"You didn't text," she said.
"I was working."
"I know."
"I'm here now."
"I see that."
The fridge hummed between them. A guilty secret, buzzing in the silence.
Jess picked at the label on the wine bottle with her thumbnail. It was cheap shit—the kind that came in a plastic jug and tasted like regret. She'd finished half of it before he'd walked in. The other half was sitting in her stomach like a stone.
"I need to ask you something," she said.
"Okay."
"What's your relationship like with Rodriguez?"
Cole didn't flinch. Didn't look away. Just stood there with his arms crossed and his jaw tight.
"She's my partner."
"What else?"
"Nothing else."
"Three years, right? You said that. Before."
"Yeah. Three years."
"So you're close."
"We've been through shit together. The kind of shit that either bonds you or breaks you. We bonded."
Jess nodded. Took a sip of wine straight from the bottle. It burned going down.
"I watched you two at the gas station," she said. "She was laughing at something you said. She touched your arm."
"She does that."
"Does she."
"It's nothing."
"I know it's nothing." Jess set the bottle down. Hard. "That's not the point."
Cole uncrossed his arms. Walked closer. Stopped a few feet from her.
"What is the point?"
"The point is—" She laughed. Bitter. Sharp. "The point is I got jealous. Okay? I saw her standing next to you, and you were so comfortable with her, and she was so comfortable with you, and something twisted in my chest. Like a knife. Like someone was wringing out my heart like a dishrag."
He didn't say anything.
"I know it's stupid. I know you're not—I know she's not—but I couldn't help it. Because I'm so used to people leaving. My mom. My dad. Every guy I've ever let get close. They all leave. And I keep waiting for you to leave too. Even when you're right here. Even when you're inside me. I'm waiting for the moment you decide I'm not worth it."
"Jess—"
"Let me finish." She held up a hand. "You told me you're not going anywhere. And I want to believe you. I do. But I need you to hear me. Really hear me."
She hopped off the counter. Crossed the narrow space between them. Looked up at him. The flickering bulb buzzed overhead.
"I don't want you to feel bad for me. I don't want you to stay because you pity me. Because I'm broken or sad or whatever the fuck you think I am. I like you. A lot. More than I've liked anyone in a long time. Maybe ever. But if you're unhappy, if you want something different, if you're just here because you think you have to be—"
Her voice caught. She swallowed hard.
"I won't keep you. I can't. I'm so tired of being someone's obligation."
Cole moved fast. His hands were on her waist before she could blink. He lifted her like she weighed nothing. Set her on the counter. The cold laminate bit into her thighs.
"Cole—"
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear. Plain black cotton. Nothing fancy. He yanked them down her legs. Tossed them somewhere behind him.
"Cole."
"Shut up."
His voice was low. Rough. Not mean—just certain. The kind of certain that left no room for argument.
He knelt.
Jess's breath caught in her throat. Her hands found the edge of the counter. Gripped.
"This what you wanted?" he asked. His breath was warm against her inner thigh. "Or did you just want to hear me say it?"
"I—"
He dragged his tongue through her folds. Slow. Deliberate. She gasped. Her hips jerked.
"I asked you a question."
"I don't know—"
He did it again. Slower this time. His tongue flat and hot, pressing against her clit like he had all night.
"You know."
Her head fell back. A moan escaped her, unbidden and raw.
"Fuck—"
"That's not an answer."
"Cole—"
He pulled back. Just an inch. Just enough to make her ache.
"You're not becoming a cat lady," he said. "You're not becoming a lesbian. You're not becoming anything except mine. You hear me?"
She nodded. Fast. Desperate.
"Say it."
"I'm yours."
He buried his face between her thighs.
The first stroke was brutal. No warm-up. No teasing. Just his tongue, flat and hot, dragging from her entrance to her clit in one long, filthy stroke. She sobbed. Her hands flew to his head. Her fingers twisted in his hair.
"Fuck—Cole—"
He didn't stop. Didn't slow down. Lapped at her like she was the last meal he'd ever eat. Groaned against her cunt like she tasted like salvation. His hands gripped her thighs. Pulled her closer. Held her open.
"You're so fucking wet," he muttered. The vibration made her twitch. "All this for me?"
She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. Her heels dug into his back. Her hips bucked against his mouth.
He sucked her clit between his lips. Hard. She screamed. The sound bounced off the walls. The neighbors might hear. She didn't care.
"That's it," he breathed. "Right there."
His tongue flicked. Fast. Hard. His fingers slid inside her. Two. Crooked. Pounding.
"C-col—"
"Don't."
"Please—"
"Beg."
"I'm begging. I'm—" She couldn't think. Couldn't form words. Just gasps. Just God and fuck and please.
He curled his fingers. Pressed that spot. Sucked her clit in time with the thrust of his hand.
She came apart.
The orgasm ripped through her like a live wire. She screamed his name. Her thighs clamped around his head. Her whole body shook.
He didn't stop. Kept licking. Kept fucking her with his fingers. Dragged it out until she was pushing at his forehead, too sensitive, too much.
"Cole—Cole—stop—"
He pulled back. Chin slick. Eyes feral.
"Not yet."
He stood. Unbuckled his belt. Unzipped.
Her eyes went wide.
"Cole—"
"You wanted to know if I'm leaving." He freed himself. Stroked once. Twice. Stepped between her legs. "I'm not."
He slammed into her.
She screamed. Not in pain. Not quite. In something else. Something that had no name.
He fucked her hard. Punishing. The counter dug into her back. The cabinets rattled behind her. The wine bottle tipped and rolled but neither of them cared.
"You think—" He was breathless. Snarling. "—that after you took my whole cock down your throat—"
She moaned.
"—that I'd walk away?"
His hips slammed. Her nails raked his back.
"I've been—" He groaned. "—fucking obsessed with you since the first night."
"Cole—"
"Shut up. I'm talking."
She laughed. It came out broken. He kissed her. Teeth and tongue. Swallowed her sounds.
His hand came up. Closed around her throat. Not hard. Just enough to make her dizzy.
"You're mine," he said. "You hear me? Mine. Not because I feel sorry for you. Not because I'm obligated. Because I want you. Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Because—"
His voice broke. Just a little.
"—because I can't fucking breathe without you."
She came again. Hard. Crying. Clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth.
He followed a few strokes later. Buried deep. Forehead pressed to hers. Breathing her air.
Neither of them moved.
The fridge hummed. The bulb flickered. Somewhere outside, a siren wailed and faded.
"Cole," she whispered.
"Yeah."
"I believe you."
He kissed her. Soft this time. Tender. The kind of kiss that made promises.
"Good," he said. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
She wrapped her arms around his neck. Held on.
The apartment was still a shithole. The wine was still cheap. The future was still uncertain.
But he was here. He was staying.
For now, that was enough.