Page 12 of Johny B

“Where the hell were you?” JB growls as Rush takes in the beaten and bloodied body of the drunk sprawled out on the floor and my obvious state of distress. “Fuck, if I hadn’t cut my run short and come back... Fuck, I hate to think.”

“Shit, I…” Rush stutters, shaking his head as if his brain is still foggy. “I’d got him outside, but when I turned my back on him, he jumped me, copped a lucky punch to the side of my head. I must have gone down hard because the next thing I knew, I was coming around on the floor outside. I think the fucker broke my nose.” He leans to the side to look around JB. “I’m so fucking sorry, Scarlett. JB,”—his hand grasps a clump of his hair and he tugs on it, frustrated — “what can I do?”

“Take him down the back stairs into the kitchen,” JB barks at Rush. “If he comes around, knock him the fuck out. Bind him to a chair; make sure he can’t go anywhere. I’m not done with him yet, not by any means.”

Rush acknowledges JB’s orders and pulls the asshole up and over his shoulder. The way Rush lifts him with ease makes me realize it was pure luck rather than judgement that his dude got the better of Rush. Not so lucky for Rush or me, though.

Once Rush has left the room and disappeared down the hallway, JB comes to kneel before me. My eyes follow his as he looks down at his wet, blood-splattered T-shirt in my lap, then I raise my gaze to him.

“Shit, sorry. Let me get you something else.”

“No, it’s fine. Just untie me will you,” I whimper, shrugging so he can see that my arms are tied behind me.

He pulls a pocket knife out and flicks open the blade before moving behind me and within seconds he’s sliced through the leather belt and my arms are free. With a groan, I bring my arms forward. A deep ache burns through my shoulders from them being forced back into the unnatural position.

Still crouched behind me, JB reaches around to where my hands lie in my lap and gently lifts one. His palm against mine, his thumb caresses the back of my hand, careful not to touch the red bleeding welts from where the leather has cut through the skin. His breathing is heavy, and I can almost feel the heat of his anger as it starts to mount again.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” His voice is as sharp as a knife, and twice as lethal. He goes to pull away from me, but I capture his hand.

“All in good time, but first can you help me up?” My head is telling me to stop being a baby and get my ass up off the floor, but my body is exhausted from trying to fight, and I doubt I’ll be able to get to my feet unaided, however much that goes against the grain.

“Fuck, Scarlett, of course.” He takes a few steps towards the couch and snatches the blanket that’s laid across the back. He shakes it out before he lays it over the top of the bloody T-shirt, handing me the corners. “Wrap it around you when I bring you up.”

I nod, understanding his thinking.

“You ready?” he asks, his hands resting above my waist.

“Yeah,” I respond, moving my legs to the right position so I can push up with what little energy I have left.

As he lifts me, I pull the blanket closer to my body. Once I’m on my feet, he moves his hands from my waist to my shoulders, giving me the chance to wrap the blanket around my torso,tucking in the corner to hold it in place. When my legs start to give way, his arms wrap fully around me, holding me close to his chest.

I look up into his stormy eyes. The usual piercing blue color darkens with a mix of rage and concern.

“Did he…” The words don’t need to fall from his lips: I know exactly what he wants to know. I can’t look at him as shame and realization hit me like a freight train.

The crazy that just happened.

The horrors that were about to happen.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s no doubt that this will scar me for some time to come, but if he’d gone further, stripped me of all that is mine without my willingness to give, I might never have been able to wake up from this nightmare of a day.

Tears flood my eyes, dripping from my lashes, soaking the edge of the blanket that sits across my chest.

“Scarlett,” JB whispers as he places his forefinger under my chin, pulling my gaze back to his.

With a sob, I watch as his eyes flick over my face trying to read the extent of my pain. “You saved me.”

His thumb comes to my cheek sweeping away some of the wetness before he brings it to his mouth and sucks in my tears. He pulls me into him, my head coming to rest on his naked chest. His hand gently holding the back of my neck, his thumb a featherlight stroke against the skin. “And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Even though I’m enjoying the warmth and safety of his arms, I pull back, just enough so I’m able to tilt my head back and look up to him. Pushing up onto my toes, I place my lips on his, no pressure, a brush.

His body stiffens, his hands gripping hold of my shoulders. At first, I think he’s going to push me away, which confuses me. The memory of his relentless flirting instantly comes tomind, and I wonder why he’s not responding to my forwardness. Then it dawns on me that with all that has just transpired, my advances towards him are a bit crass, the timing totally wrong.

But along with his hesitation, regretting my actions are quickly dispersed. Hooking his arm around me, he pulls me in close. His hand threads into my hair pulling me into him, deepening the kiss.

And oh, my fucking god, can he kiss.

His tongue slips between my lips, teasing my own with a sweeping touch. He tastes so good, so good that I want more. I tug at the back of his head keeping him exactly where I need him, making sure he can’t pull away as I suck on his bottom lip.

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