Whatever She's Got

by Lyla Grace

  I head out of the hotel and started out down the nearest path. No sooner than I set a good pace, begin to feel in tune with the pavement, and manage to quit thinking about Landon for a split second do I manage to literally run right smack dab into said handsome football player. His hands on my biceps send a current running through my body. If a simple touch or a mere kiss can send me into overdrive, I can’t help but wonder what would happen to me if we had…

  I hear him say my name and it jolts me out of the impure thoughts that have begun to cross my mind. “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?” I ask, trying to recover.

  “I asked if you were okay,” he says.

  Am I okay? Is he serious? He looks at me like I am the only woman on earth, kisses me into a drunken haze, and then just up and leaves me with nothing more than my tiny travel vibrator to soothe the ache. Hell no, I am not okay. I am a mess of need and desire and want—all over some man who apparently has the restraint of a saint if he was able to walk away from that kiss. I’ll be damned if I am going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, though.

  I close my eyes momentarily, trying to compose myself. “I’m fine,” I say. I can’t let him know the effect he had on me…still has on me. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” I swear if he doesn’t take his hands off me soon, I am going to jump him right here despite his protests.

  “Listen,” he begins. “About last night.”

  “No worries, handsome,” I lie. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” And I shouldn’t have. I should have had him flat on his back, straddling him with his….

  I hear him call out my name again. Damn impure thoughts. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said it’s okay. We just can’t let it happen again. Agreed?”

  “Of course.” My body is still fully aware that he still hasn’t taken his hands off of me. It is as though I am in a trance, staring at him, my lip between my teeth, eyes fixated on his. What the hell?! You could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife and yet in a flash he breaks the spell, pulls away, and jogs off with nothing more than a wave.

  After I shower and change, I do the only thing I can think of--put myself in my skimpiest bikini and head down to the pool in hopes of finding someone, anyone, who can make me feel remotely the way Landon did last night. I am sure that my current obsession with the man is nothing that some fruity cocktails, sun, and sexy-ass guys can’t cure. Plus, it’s the one place that I am pretty sure I won’t run into him. Knowing him, he is probably in his room studying plays or watching ESPN.

  I lay out in a chair, submersing myself in my book, when I glace up and see Chase and Landon walking toward me. Chase looks like hell and Landon has his damn shirt off. Oh, hell. I put my tablet down and smile up at the boys as they approach. Chase collapses on the seat next to me, his glasses obviously covering some bloodshot, hungover eyes.

  Looking at my brother, I momentarily forget the other hulking football player who is looming over me. This is not the Chase Matthews I know. Since his divorce from that evil bitch who nowhere near deserved him, he has turned into someone I barely recognize. Instead of being an adoring husband, he now spends his days drinking heavily, chasing every woman he can find, when for twelve years he had eyes for only one woman.

  Harper and I were far from friends. We learned to co-exist for Chase’s sake, but I knew what she wanted from him the moment I met her. But Chase? He fell head over heels in love with her. The kind of love most women only dream about. When I say he had eyes only for her – I mean it. No other woman could compare. She was his world. And then she went and destroyed his by being the no-good whore I always knew she was. She never loved Chase. She loved what he could give her…notoriety, money, status. And now? Now my poor brother is destroyed because of her. If only I could get my hands on her….

  “You look like shit, Chase,” I say before taking a sip of my Long Island.

  “Yeah well, thanks to Chrissy or Missy or Jennifer I feel amazing today--just a little tired.” He looks over the top of his sunglasses at me. “Your amazing big brother got us a limo for tonight and a reservation for a hot new club opening. Be ready by nine.” I watch as yet another big-breasted, blonde bimbo walks by. Then I watch Chase hop up and go after her at top speed. “Be ready at nine,” he shouts as he takes off.

  My eyes fall onto Landon who stands brooding over me. “You okay?” he asks.

  “I hate seeing him like this,” I admit. I know Landon looks out for him; he always has. I just can’t help but worry. Landon nods in agreement.

  “He’s going to be okay. He just needs some time,” he says.

  “I hope you’re right.” I allow a weak smile, because despite the reaction my body may be having to Landon, my mind is still on poor Chase.

  “Guess I will see you at nine,” Landon says before walking away.

  Nine o’clock sharp, there is a knock on my door. I smooth my dress, adjust my boobs, and open the door wide. I expect to see Chase on the other side and find myself struggling when I see Landon there instead his blue button-down shirt, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The color looks amazing on him and brings out the blue in his eyes. I recover quickly. “Hey, handsome. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  His jaw drops open slightly as his eyes work their way up and down my body before landing firmly on my lips. I see the same desire in his eyes that I did last night before he kissed me. He shoves his hands into his pockets; I secretly hope this is a defensive move to keep his hands off my body. He clears his throat as he struggles to find words. “Chase is, uh, he’s a little preoccupied at the moment and asked me to come get you,” he explains.

  “Oh? What do you say we get a little preoccupied?” I tease, raising my eyebrows and putting a sultry smile on. While I am just trying to goad him, I can’t help but admit that after that kiss last night, that sounds like a way better way to spend the evening. He fidgets in his spot, obviously uncomfortable. “Relax, big guy; I was just teasing. Quit being so uptight.”

  “I am not uptight,” he argues.

  “Actions speak louder than words, you know,” I say with a wink.

  He shakes his head at me, a hint of a smile playing on those magical lips of his. I link my arm in his. “Shall we go?”

  Walking together like this feels so natural—comfortable, even. I look up at him and find him already looking down at me. “What?” I ask knowing full well that he has something he wants to say, but can’t. Or, rather, won’t.

  “You look beautiful,” he compliments.

  I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks and my eyes drop to the floor. No man has ever used that word to describe me before. Sexy or hot, sure. But beautiful? That is a word men use for women they love and respect, not the one they merely want in their beds.

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  He gently lifts my chin to make me look at him. And I’ll be damned if this moment doesn’t put all sorts of thoughts of being with him in my head. And not just in his bed--not that I would mind that--but really being with him. Being worthy enough for him to call me his girlfriend, to laugh and smile and just be. It feels like forever since I have allowed myself those kinds of thoughts. Not since I came to terms with the fact that girls like me attract a certain kind of guy…and that guy? Well, let’s just say those guys are nothing like Landon.

  Landon opens his mouth to speak, but the ding of the elevator snaps us back to reality. His hand moves to the small of my back, ushering me inside. I remind myself that starting anything with Landon would be unfair to him. Eventually he would realize that he deserves better than me. And I never want to know what the look on his face would be like when that happens. I just want to remember this, the way he looks at me now, as though I am the most amazing thing he has ever laid eyes on.

  The club is loud, alive and hopping. And luckily the money Chase likes to throw around has guaranteed us an amazing evening and exclusive bottle service. I know the three of us sitting in the rope
d section enjoying some drinks and laughs won’t last long once Chase’s libido kicks back in, but I plan on enjoying every moment I can. Watching Landon and Chase interact, laugh, and throw jabs at each other, I better understand why he pulled away last night. It’s easy to see the depth of their friendship and why, for him, last night was a major transgression. It also gives me a little insight into the man I spent the day with – the one who isn’t spending all this time trying to keep his hands off his best friend’s sister. With Chase around, he seems more relaxed and like he might actually be a whole lot of fun. Which only does the one thing I don’t want it to do--make me like him more. I need to get away and clear my head and the insane thoughts that creep in, thoughts of me and Landon as something more.

  I spring to my feet. “I’m going to go dance,” I declare.

  I get up to make my exit and am surprised to find Chase joining me as I head out of our roped area. His attempts at dancing have me laughing hysterically, which makes shaking my ass in this overly tight short black dress and three-inch heels even more difficult than it already is. But this is Chase, and it isn’t long before my brother eyes yet another piece of ass to pursue, leaving me alone on the dance floor.

  My eyes drift over toward where Landon stands at the bar. He didn’t want to dance, and I was grateful for the reprieve, since he is exactly what I am trying to escape. When I glance up again, I notice he isn’t alone anymore. There is now some blonde that is occupying his attention. Her hand is casually resting on his arm as she tosses her head back in laughter at something he said. My heart begins to race. I instantly hate this woman that I don’t even know. Not to mention, Landon seems to be enjoying her company, and that bothers me way more than it should.

  I continue to watch them. Every moment, every smile infuriates me more. I try desperately to convince myself it’s just the sting of rejection from last night. Or maybe it’s the fact that I know I can’t have him. Either way, there are more than plenty of men in this club that I am sure would be more than happy to satisfy this little itch that Landon left me with last night. So why is it that my eyes seem to keep drifting back to him? Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, the fact of the matter is there is just something about Landon Sutton that has me considering throwing out my whole gamut of no-relationship rules.

  A few more minutes pass as I continue to watch them. The bar around them becomes more crowded, but I can still see when Landon’s hand finds its way to her waist and he pulls her close. I’m sure he was just moving her out of the way for someone else to reach the bar. He couldn’t actually be flirting with her, could he? Either way, it doesn’t matter. I need to get him away from her. I’m not sure why I care so damn much, but this has to stop. Now.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I lie when I reach them.

  The moment I arrive, his “friend” is shooting daggers at me.

  “Everything okay?” Landon asks.

  Whatever the reason, I feel a sudden possessiveness over Landon--despite her being beautiful, this woman is not nearly good enough for him. I probably should have given this plan some more thought. I struggle to find an excuse for my interruption. While it may not be the best-laid plan, I play on his dedication to his friend. “Not really. It’s…Chase. He went out to the limo; I’m kind of worried about him. Would you mind coming out there to check on him with me?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Landon turns to the woman. “I’ll be right back.”

  We make our way out of the club, through the parking lot to our waiting limo. The whole walk, I am berating myself. What exactly is my end game here? Get him out to the limo and-- what? Admit I am jealous? Or just that I have apparently lost my mind?

  I stop just a few feet from the limo and turn to him. “Is he in there?” he asks. I shake my head. A look of confusion covers his face. “Then what are we doing out here?”

  One look into those steel-blue eyes, and my mind and body say fuck it. “This,” I respond. I quickly close the gap between us and wrap my arms around his neck, my lips planting firmly on his. His hand grips the back of my neck, holding me in place, the other cupping my face. As the kiss deepens, sparks fly between us, and I know he feels it too when I hear him growl into the kiss. This amazing guy who apparently has the restraint of a saint places his hands on my wrists, breaking their hold on his neck, and pushes back from me.

  “Damn it, Livie. What the hell was that?” Landon’s body turns from me and he runs his hands through his hair. “I told you last night, this can’t happen.” His voice is thick with frustration.

  I lean back against the limo, my eyes trained on the ground. “I know, and I tried to respect that. I…I don’t know what came over me.” It’s the truth. I really don’t know what has come over me, why I can’t seem to stay away from this man that I should be steering clear of. At the very least, I should respect him enough to honor his wishes.

  But I can’t. Not when I saw him with his hands on her when they most definitely belong on me. He turns back to me, the desire in his eyes evident, a sign that his resolve is slowly fading. If I play my cards just right, it will only be a matter of time before I break him.

  “Livie,” his strained voice pleads with me.

  I know what I am doing is wrong. But when it comes to Landon, I can’t seem to help myself. He has gotten to me and I fully intend on making him mine. “Landon,” I purr. “Don’t you want me?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want. This can’t happen.” He keeps using words like can’t and shouldn’t. But he never says that it won’t. Seemingly confident in his decision, he squares his shoulders, resolve etched onto his face. He can believe that all he wants. The minute I saunter over to him and graze my nails down his chest, toying with the buttons on his shirt, his body tenses, and I know I am close to getting what I crave.

  “So, then--you do want me?”

  Our bodies are dangerously close for a man who is seemingly on the verge of losing control. “Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I want you; you’re what every guy’s wet dream is made of. It’s just….”

  “Just what?” I ask as I lean further into him, my hand grazing over the fabric that is covering his erection.

  Landon curses—"Fuck”--and before I have a moment to react, he crashes his mouth onto mine. His one hand is fisting my hair, the other firmly groping my ass. Toying with his belt, I manage to loosen it just as he breaks the kiss. “I can’t do this to Chase.”

  I pull away from him breaking the connection. “It’s okay, Landon,” I say. My feet begin to move away from him. “I am sure I can find someone to scratch this itch.”

  In a split second, his hand is tight on my wrist. “No,” he growls, his voice low and strained. A man who seems to typically be calm and collected is unravelling before me. My eyes go wide. I am not sure what to make of the internal struggle I can see going on inside of him: his loyalty to my brother versus his desire for me.

  He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. I part my mouth, allowing him further access, my hand stroking his erection through his jeans. “Get in the damn limo,” he demands.

  Strong hands roam my body as powerful kisses trail down my neckline to my breasts. I arch into him, letting him take whatever he needs from me. If I am this turned on by his touch, what the hell is it going to be like when he’s inside me? I make haste of his belt and zipper, my hand reaching for what I am dying to explore. I free his thick cock from the restrictive fabric, stroking my hand up and down. Landon pulls me into him, his lips on mine and his hands making their way under the skirt of my dress, looking for what’s not there. His eyes light up at the discovery of my missing panties. He extracts a condom from his pocket and I snatch it from his hands, ripping it open with my teeth. “Allow me,” I purr as I roll it down over him. Our eyes lock; he searches for the approval he needs to proceed, and he must find it, because instantly his hands are on my hips and he is lowering me onto him. The thickness of his cock stretches me, delving deeper than I have eve
r experienced.

  My head falls back, his name a breath on my lips. Despite our desperation for each other, we go slowly. Every thrust of his hips into me is deliberate, a seductive promise of the punishment I know he will unleash on me, a pleasurable torture I will willingly accept. His fingers firmly grip my hips as we begin to move. I don’t know how it’s possible, but with each thrust he seems to dive deeper into me, touching me in places I never knew existed. “Oh God, Landon,” I whisper into his ear as my head falls to his shoulder, the pleasure raging through my body.

  I hear my name on his lips, a curse and a prayer all in one. My nails sink into him, begging for more. I begin to spiral over the edge, pleasure crashing over me in waves. I feel myself tighten around him; he stops deep inside me, allowing me to ride out the orgasm that is hitting me like a damn truck. I fall limp in his arms, trying to recover from what I just experienced, but he doesn’t let me. His assault continues harder and faster as he takes what he has been denying himself…me. “Fuck, Livie,” he calls out as his cock throbs inside me, his orgasm hitting him hard.

  Our bodies stay connected for a few moments as we catch our breath. My whole body feels empty when I lift myself off of him. Landon rests his head on the back of the seat as he runs his hands through his blond hair.

  “You okay?” I ask as I readjust my dress. I hope he isn’t feeling guilty. Because after what we just experienced, that’s the last thing he should be feeling.

  “Okay?” he chuckles. “After that? Believe me, I am more than okay.”

  He tugs my hand and pulls me back to him and kisses me. And it’s not one of those quick “thanks for a good time” kisses. It’s a sweet, delectable kiss that has me melting right into him again. And here I thought he was going to be putty in my hands. Turns out it’s the other way around. With the way he uses his hands, he can touch me, mold me, or do whatever the hell he wants to me as long this doesn’t end. When I feel him begin to pull away I whisper, “Don’t stop.” I have never felt anything so amazing in my life. I just want to hold on to it for as long as I can.