by Jules Dixon
I ignored the question. To remember brought back memories I didn’t want to forget, but I’d pushed them down to move on with life like he had.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t like that kiss,” I hissed back.
“Didn’t say I didn’t like it. I’m saying I didn’t start the kiss, and I was only participating in being molested by your tongue because you seemed to be enjoying it.”
“I seem to remember your third leg was molesting me and would lead me to believe you were enjoying it.”
“Whatever.” He chuckled and my rising blood pressure made my face flush.
“Did you just ‘whatever’ me?”
“Just trying to speak your language.” His hand lowered and slipped into the open slit on the back of my dress. With his hand spread across my lower back, I could feel the tip of his pinkie just resting at the top of the split of my butt cheeks, sliding under the lace of my thong. Skin on skin.
I wiggled and shout-whispered in his ear, “Drexel, your hand!”
“Uh-huh, nice thong.” He was an excellent dancer, swaying our bodies in unison to the dreamy but sultry beat. He spun us at just the right moment, compelling the breath to exhale in excitement from my lungs. “What about my hand?”
My breathing shallowed and my body betrayed me, hardening my nipples. “Please, your hand.” A moan escaped my lips.
Drexel rumbled a soothing, manly murmur of appreciation in response. “Now, why can’t you be this Aurora all the time? So peaceful and graceful, and not pissing me off?” He moved his hand up to my waist and pulled me closer to him, molding our bodies as if they were meant to match.
“Because you’re not being a pushy, offensive”—I yawned—“jerk.” My eyes fluttered closed. I slipped my hand down his chest and inside his jacket. Rounding his waist with my arm, I used him as a vertical human pillow and for a couple of songs he let me.
“Miss Jessen, I think it’s time to get you to bed before you fall asleep in my arms.” Grabbing my hand, he led me toward the door.
Does he mean in bed with him?
My head rocked between wanting to yield to him and wanting to stay at the reception. I yanked my hand away and stumbled back a step. “I don’t want to go. I’m having funs. Jake said he would takes me home, if you’re ready to leave.”
Drexel spun and stepped close. “I told your father I’d bring you home. Plus, from what I’ve been told and what I’ve seen, Jake’s a player. You don’t need that.”
I backed away from him. “I’m ables to decide who will drive me home.” The not-so-subtle effects of the alcohol added to my deteriorating speech and escalating attitude. “I’ll bees the judge of peoples who are worthy of being in mys life!” I watched as a childlike emotion of hurt crossed his face and it pulled me toward him.
He backed away. His jaw ticked as it clenched hard and his face erased all emotion. “The princess gets her way again.” Drexel brushed by me. His overpowering cologne was the exclamation to his harsh declaration.
I decided sitting was the best idea as the room started to spin. I people-watched and sucked down my fifth glass of bubbly.
Probably should have stopped at three. Or two. Total lightweight.
After saying his good-byes to Jude and Presley, Drexel strutted from the yoga studio, pulling his burgundy tie through the neck of his shirt.
“You need a ride?” Ollie asked, squatting beside my chair.
“I’ll gets one from Jake.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure,” I said unequivocally. This night had gotten out of control and I needed to get it back.
“O-kay.” He stretched the word and kissed my cheek. “Good night.”
“Night.”
Jake and Chloe met me at the table. While I listened to them, my alcohol haze dissipated enough to comprehend I was now a third wheel on what would be a completely awkward ride home.
“Jake, I’m fines to drive myself home.” Standing, I pushed my chair in, using it to steady my body.
Their gazes met and I blinked to try to focus.
Jake shook his head. “No, you’re not okay to drive, Rory. I’ll drive you home, then I’ll take Chloe home. Really, it’s no problem.” He helped Chloe from her chair and we said our good-byes to the bride and groom. Their happiness made me feel warm and I assumed that warmth was hope. Deep inside I had piles of it and I was ready to share my life with someone special.
Jake was right, and again I wasn’t in control even when I thought I was going to be.
“I’m sorry fors turning into a thirds wheel,” I mumbled as we walked to the glass doors.
“You’re not a third wheel.” Chloe’s arm wrapped around me and she lowered her voice while Jake went to get our coats. “Thank you for asking Jake to dance with me. That was very sweet of you. Now, let’s get you home.” Her hand rubbed my back.
“Do yous like him?” I hiccupped. “I’ve nevers been drunk. I think … I’m drunk.”
“Yeah, I think so,” Chloe answered with a giggle. I couldn’t tell if she was saying she liked Jake or that I was drunk.
I’m definitely drunk.
Avery and Bryson joined us. She touched my arm and I could tell she was a sweetheart by her kind smile. “It was nice to meet you, Rory. Hope to see you around Jessen Auto Mall sometime. I’ll text you for the movie.”
“I don’t make its to the dealership verys often, but maybe I’ll takes Dad to lunch during winter break.” I started to lean too far to the left and Jake righted me. “Sanks, Yake.”
“I’ll text both of you to get together soon for movies,” Avery reminded us while Bryson helped her with her coat.
The ride to my parents’ home, where I lived while I finished my degree in early childhood education, was spent lying on the backseat of Jake’s truck. My stomach lurched with every bump in the road. I listened to a lead-up conversation to what might be a sleepover at Chloe’s place for Jake.
I closed my eyes, and when I woke up, I was alone in my room.
No prince, and way past spin class.
Chapter Five
Drexel
I followed behind Jake’s truck. Not too close. Both Chloe and Rory were in the cab and he was driving cautiously, almost too cautiously. His truck stopped at a light and Jake jumped out and strode toward my Mustang. I pulled the emergency brake and got out of my car.
“Drexel, I almost didn’t recognize you. I forgot you bought a new Mustang in the summer. Nice ride.”
“Thanks.”
Jake stepped chest-to-chest with me. “Why the fuck are you following me?”
Should’ve remembered what Jake did for a living: surveillance and private security detail for Vendetti Security Inc. He was used to watching for tailing vehicles and details out of the ordinary.
I stepped back. “Calm down, Greenstein. I was just … just…”
“Just wanting something more from Rory?”
“No!” I shook my head but it seemed I was shaking a little too emphatically. I blew out a long breath. “No, I was making sure she got home safely. I told her dad I would, and I keep my word.”
“So do I. And you following me pisses me off, Mason.”
“Noted.”
“Probably a good thing you’re following us though. I think Rory passed out and I don’t know where she lives. I was about to call Bryson to do an information search, which would get too many questions from the boss. I’ve been in enough hot water lately. I actually thought I saw steam come from Rahl’s ears last week. I don’t need to give him another reason to be pissed at me.”
I chuckled. “I’ll get her home.”
We walked to his truck.
“Hi, Drexel,” Chloe whispered. “Your sleeping beauty awaits.”
“She’s not mine. She’s my boss’s.”
“You know, only true love’s kiss will wake her up. Give it a try.” Chloe giggled.
I stopped moving Rory’s dead weight toward me. “What?”
Chloe sm
iled. “Never mind. Have a Merry Christmas, Drexel.”
I slid Rory’s body off the bench and into my arms. Her eyes flickered open but shut as quickly.
“Bottle and a half of champagne and she’s out?” I shook my head. “Happy holidays, Chloe.”
Jake followed me to my car and opened the passenger door. I slid Rory into the seat, reclined it, and clicked the seat belt around her. I leaned back against the closed door.
“You and Chloe?” I motioned my head to his truck.
He crossed his arms. “You and Rory?”
A minute of silence indicated neither of us was ready to answer those questions. I shouldn’t even think about Rory or sex or anything related to her and sex in the same thought.
“Good luck, Jake.”
“You too, Drexel.”
On the way to her place, I remembered the gate entry to her parents’ mansion had a code. In her condition, waking up Mr. Jessen to answer the buzz and greet us wouldn’t be a smart idea. I pulled into the driveway, stopping inches from the black wrought-iron gate.
“Rory.” I touched her shoulder and she rolled her head onto my hand. I moved it to cup her face, then slid it behind her neck. The velvetiness of her hair awakened my fingers and they instinctively flexed around her neck. “Aurora.”
She sighed and the sound was innocent. Inviting. I leaned over the console and skimmed my lips on hers. Her eyes opened, flashing a sparkling blue in the dashboard lights like moonlight on the ocean. “Aurora, what’s the code to the gate?”
“Drexel?”
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s the code?”
“My birthday.” Each syllable was a featherlike caress of her silky lips against mine.
I backed away before I did something stupid. Or something right? What was classified as stupid and what felt right seemed like one and the same at that moment. “Twelve-thirty-one?” Sliding my hand back to her face, my thumb traced those full, fleshy ripe strawberry lips.
Her eyelids were heavy. She nuzzled her head against my hand as both a nod and effort to continue our connection. I kissed her forehead and she closed her eyes again.
Inside the gate, my eyes traversed the lighted stone exterior of the home. More like castle.
I carried her through the side door of the garage and up the stairs to her apartment. The door creaked a little as it opened. Her apartment was probably the same size as my three-bedroom house, but of course, the princess to the throne of the Jessen Auto Mall empire would live in luxury.
I wondered why she still lived at home. Long before her age, I was packed and ready to leave my parents’ house. I moved out minutes after I walked across the graduation floor with a diploma in my hand. I imagined her parents would probably pay for an apartment elsewhere in the city while she attended the University of Nebraska-Omaha. But when her nose grazed against my neck, just like when we were dancing, all I thought about was how fast I could get her laid down and out of there.
I’d crossed so many lines with this girl. I needed to start remembering how different we were. She deserved someone who could give her way more than I could. My life was almost always messy, occasionally cruel, and definitely not something her beauty had a place in.
Carrying her into her bedroom, I stared at the bed. The cottony white bedding was inviting, but I hadn’t been invited. With one hand, I threw back the covers and placed her on top of the pink sheets. Her blonde hair fanned waves around her head. Glossy eyes blinked open and held to mine. I slipped off her heels and set them on the floor. All the time, she followed me with her lax eyes.
“My feet really hurt,” she slurred.
I grabbed the foot closest to me and massaged, paying extra attention to the ball of her foot where I assumed the pain would collect. Her mouth opened in a soft pant. She gripped the sheet in tight fists when I switched to the other foot and let my fingers take away some of the ache there, too. I knew what pain could do to a person.
She should never have to feel pain.
Her dress didn’t look comfortable to sleep in, but undressing her wasn’t high on my bucket list either. Fortunately, I didn’t have to take time or make effort to add to my bucket list. While holding my gaze, she reached across her body and eased the side zipper down. My heart ticked fast to every movement and sound. Slipping the one-shouldered dress off, she shimmied the fabric down her body. The remaining black strapless bra and lacey black thong highlighted her mind-bending curves. She wasn’t thin, but she was solid lushness. Her body called out to me to touch her.
Some Baroque painter probably used one of her ancestors as a Rubenesque muse.
The gentleman in me—there is one, I think—demanded I leave, but her beauty confiscated my self-control.
“Shit, how can someone be so damn gorgeous?” I mumbled, my gaze floating over all her snowy white skin, stopping on a small tattoo on her hip. A diamond encrusted crown. Fitting.
Her blue eyes flickered and she smiled almost timidly. I slid the dress from the bed and my hand brushed her silky thigh. She moaned and the sound made it clear…
Time to leave, Mason.
I walked the dress to a chair—to put distance, and hopefully perspective, between us. And to take a few deep breaths to stop the throbbing in my groin.
“Please, come back to me.” Her voice turned from innocent to sensual in five words.
Back? Like she actually missed me? No one misses me.
I leaned against one of the upright posts at the bottom of the bed. “Rory, you’re drunk. I should leave.”
“We don’t have to do anything. Just lay on the bed with me until I fall back to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
Her eyes softened. “Can’t or won’t, Drex?”
It was both.
“Maybe I’ll see you around at Triple R, Rory. Get some sleep.” I made it to the front door before her sobs filled the apartment and took me back to that Fourth of July night.
Fuck.
I walked back to the bed and sat next to her, my hand skimmed her almost-naked back. “Hey, don’t cry. It’s the alcohol jacking with your emotions.” I rested my hand at her waist. “I can’t stay. My car cannot be outside when your dad wakes up. He wouldn’t be happy with me.”
She muffled words into her pillow. “I didn’t think about that.”
I chuckled. If she was sober and thinking straight, she would’ve said I was calling her out as being controlled by her parents. Still seemed a safe excuse as to why my sleeping over was a poor decision. Of course, there were other reasons it wasn’t a great idea. Lots of reasons.
I tugged the covers over her body. She grabbed my arm, trailed her fingers down, and wound them through mine. The mental image of doing the same while making love to her froze my body.
Making love? Am I drunk? I reached down for a testicle check. Yep, still there.
She yawned.
“Get some sleep.” I tucked the covers up to her chin and brushed her hair away from her face.
She rolled over toward me. “Good night, Drexel. You’re a good guy.”
“I wish I could stay, too. So no, I’m not.” I leaned over her and placed a soft kiss on her temple, and she exhaled a long breath of relaxation. “Good night, Princess.”
I locked the front door from the inside before I left, but tried the door when I instantly regretted not lying with her for a few minutes. I’d never found any woman so maddening and yet so … stimulating. The combination gave me a better high than anything recreational I’d ever tried. And I’ve tried it all. Best to go home.
In my own bed, my third leg wouldn’t let me sleep. Memories of that kiss and slipping my hand into her dress had my cock stiff as roll cage steel in a racecar. I revved my engine to Rory’s vision, exploding like a nitro boost had entered my bloodstream. For the first time in months, I slept for longer than a couple of hours.
Late the next morning, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and texted Rory.
Drexel: Hey Princess, how are you feel
ing today?
As I pulled into Triple R for my regular Sunday workout, my phone buzzed in the console.
Aurora: Don’t call me princess! And why do you care?
Back to the old Rory.
Drexel: At this moment, I really don’t know why I asked.
Aurora: Major hangover but I don’t remember what happened after getting into Jake’s truck.
She doesn’t remember me being in her apartment? That’s both good and bad.
Aurora: I woke up almost naked.
Drexel: Now you’re just teasing me.
Aurora: Why do you have to be such an asshole?
Drexel: That’s not being an asshole. That’s the truth.
I shoved my phone into the console, opting for my smaller MP-3 player instead and headed into the gym to release some tension that interaction had crawled through my body.
Time at the gym was uncomplicated and let me zone out from my thoughts. After last night’s wedding reception, the yoga studio looked as if nothing had ever happened. The only thing unusual was Jude’s new motorcycle parked in the gym owner’s office. Winter in Nebraska included change-at-a-moment’s-notice road conditions. Not safe to be out in a two-wheeled vehicle.
Maybe I should use some savings and buy a bike? Yeah, driving a motorcycle at 100 mph with a white demon in my brain … great idea.
I ran for over an hour, the morning’s pep encouraged by my release of pent-up sexual frustration last night. I smiled as the memory of Rory wanting to me to stay floated into my thoughts, but the recollection of her annoying and petulant texts brought me back down to the sound of my feet pounding on the treadmill. Several of my friends were able to accept me for who I was and how I was.
Not everyone will and sometimes it’s easier not to find out who will and who won’t.
My pain had a legitimate and diagnosed medical foundation. I’d played ball for the Kansas City Royals as a relief pitcher after college. At the start of the second season, my first pitch was a textbook fastball strike but the second pitch went south and my arm went with it. I was put on medical leave. Specialist after specialist said the same four things: torn rotator cuff, surgery, long recovery, and good luck. That last one said the most.