Whatever She's Got

by Lyla Grace

  Landon is definitely playing up the nice guy routine, trying to be extra chummy with Michael, who, on the other hand, does not seem impressed in the least. They speak for a few moments longer, then both turn and head back toward me. Landon makes his way through the group, introducing Michael to all “the guys.” All the while his gaze holds firm on me. Once Michael is engaged with a guy I only know as Tank, Landon slips away and makes his way back to me.

  I smile at Landon. “Hmm…looks like I get to stay after all.”

  “You sure do. I may be uptight Livie, but I am most certainly a man who gets what he wants.”

  “Oh really? And what exactly is it that you want Mr. Sutton?” I ask.

  “Simple. You.” He winks at me. And if I thought I was riled up by him before, it is nothing compared to what he is doing to me right now. I cock an eyebrow at him, unsure just what he intends to do with me, though I am not complaining in the slightest. “And I’m not done yet.”

  Confused, I watch him walk away from me and straight into a blonde waitress. Literally, straight into her. His hands hold her arms. My mind remembers what that feels like…how his touch ignites my body. And, hell yes, I am all sorts of jealous over here right now. He’s laughing with her, smiling, flirting. He’s acting just like Chase when he is trying to get laid, which is nothing like the Landon I met in Mexico. Though I suppose since I threw myself at him, it didn’t really give me a glimpse into what he was like with women, how he would pick one up. I will say, from what I am seeing, he is damn good at it, though.

  The woman is smiling and giggling and eating up every damn word he is saying to her. She is wrapped around his finger within minutes. With his hand on the small of her back, he escorts her back to the table, directly to Michael. I can see Michael eye the woman, much the same way he had looked at me not too much earlier. Landon has a smile plastered on his chiseled face as he makes his way back to me. It finally dawns on me. Getting me alone was his end game--by any means necessary, even if that meant using this poor unsuspecting waitress and dumping Michael on her.

  “You look pleased with yourself,” I say. “So you eliminated your opponent….what now?”

  “He was ever my opponent?” he asks as he quirks his right eyebrow at me. Okay, so he has a point. Michael was never his opponent, nor could he be. Quite frankly, I don’t think there is a damn man in the world that is a match for Landon. He takes my hand in his and gently tugs on it. “Come with me.”

  We make our way through a dark hallway, passing through a door into what appears to be a small supply closet. What the hell is he doing? A supply closet? Really? He can’t be serious. “Taking this whole proving you aren’t uptight thing a little far, aren’t you?” My voice cracks. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not exactly a sex in public kinda gal.

  “This has nothing to do with me proving I’m not uptight and everything to do with how badly I need you, Livie.”

  The room may be dark, but the dim light lends itself to showing off his features. Intense eyes trained on me, stiff jaw filled with anticipation as he silently begs me for permission. His lips part, waiting, wanting to cover mine with them. And I may not be a supply closet kind of girl on a normal day, but when it comes to Landon Sutton? I am an anywhere, anyhow kind of girl. So I give him the permission he desires. I step into him, our bodies pressed firmly against each other.

  “Landon,” I purr.

  His name is all the invitation he needs. Strong hands firmly grip my arms, pulling me close. Hot, wet lips cover mine. He pulls back, the weight of his stare crumpling me. Landon and I spent a week perfecting our sexual exploration of each other…hard, fast, slow, soft…you name it, we tried it. But in this moment, something is different. The need, the desperation, it’s left him more forceful.

  He turns me, my back to him. “Do you have any idea how many times I have thought about this? Dreamt about being inside of you again?”

  He places my hands on a shelf. His hands trail down my sides, to my hips. He toys with the band of my pants, “It physically hurts to not be inside you.” He hastily makes work of the buttons, shoving one hand in as he yanks them down with the other. His fingers roughly caress my slickness, and as his fingers delve inside me, a guttural moan escapes him. He moves inside me for a few moments until the feel of my skin has him so riled up he can no longer control himself. A few swift movements, and I can feel his hard cock pressed at my entrance. He glides it up and down me, taunting me with promises of what’s to come. And when he pushes inside of me, I don’t even try to bite back the moan that escapes me.

  His head drops to my back. Situated in the place he desires, he holds that position for a few moments, as though savoring every second of being inside of me before sliding back out. “I need you, Livie. I have never needed anyone like this.”

  “I need you too,” I whisper, half hoping he doesn’t hear me and half hoping he does.

  Any tenderness that was in this moment disappears. Greedy need takes over. His fingers dig into my hips, holding my body and forcing it back onto him. I cry out, the sensation a mixture of pleasure and pain. He has me where he needs me now, how he wants me. And I surrender to him. His hand covers my mouth, silencing me as he pumps into me hard and fast. Each thrust is deeper than the last, assaulting my body and my senses. I had never seen him this forceful before, and it has me hanging on by a thread--so hot and on the verge that the moment I feel him quiver, my release comes hard and fast.

  And that’s all it takes. His head drops to my shoulder, his teeth sink into my skin as the waves of pleasure wash over him.

  I turn around to face him, to kiss him, to just touch him. My hand reaches to caress his face. I say his name, but he is preoccupied buttoning his pants back up.

  “I’m really glad I ran into you tonight. You have no idea--but I have to get back to the guys before they think something is up.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I stutter as he exits the closet, leaving me alone and very confused. I take a few moments to compose myself, because quite frankly, I’m really not sure what the hell just happened.

  It has been such a long day. I am exhausted, confused, hurt--and before any damn tears can start falling, I need to get out of here. I make my way toward the exit as fast as I can, but just before I hit the door, I feel a hand on my arm. “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “Home.”

  “Okay, let me give you a ride.”

  “I can find my own way,” I say as a yank my arm out of his grasp.

  Once outside, I hurry down the sidewalk. I need to find a cab, but first I need to get as far away from that restaurant as possible. I am only a block away but I can still hear him calling after me. “Livie. Wait. Please.”

  I turn my body toward him, arms folded across my chest. I don’t say anything, partly because I don’t know what to say and mostly because him walking out on me for a second time stings so damn bad that I am afraid I may show how much it hurt. And that is one thing I will not let him see, let anyone see, how much they hurt me. “I think my leaving came across wrong. I just didn’t want people to get suspicious. I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay, I want to spend time with you, to drive you home. Come on, Livie, you know me better than to think that I would just fuck you and run.”

  My mouth opens to protest. He had just up and left me without a goodbye in Mexico…why should tonight be any different? But there is no way I can let him know that bothered me…bothers me. “You just….”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Please come back inside. Let me make it up to you.” His face is etched with regret and pain. I know he really is sorry, even though I know he didn’t mean it like that. After all, this is Landon Sutton. But this, right here, the emotions, it’s just another reason why I don’t do relationships. Someone always ends up getting hurt.

  “It’s better that I don’t.” As much as I don’t want to, I turn and walk away. Away from an amazing guy, amazing sex, and true happiness--because more than anything, I want to spare him, us
, the crushing pain when it’s destroyed.

  The sun peeks through the curtains in my bedroom. I groan, not wanting to get out of bed. My muscles ache, and it’s as though I can still feel him inside me. I didn’t want to walk away, but I couldn’t stay. Between the anger, my damn pride, and the amazing fuck session we had just had in the supply closet, I couldn’t see straight. The little light on my phone was flashing, much like it had been all night. Text after text after text from Landon, apologizing for his behavior, explaining why he acted the way he did, and apologizing again for what happened. Then, a final text begging to let him know that I got home safely. So I gave in, shot off a one word text “safe” and turned the damn phone on vibrate. Several more texts asking me to call him are now flashing. One more groan and I manage to roll out of bed and make myself look presentable enough for work.

  “Rough night?” Becca asks as she makes herself comfortable in the plush blue chair opposite where I am seated at my desk. She was fast asleep when I got back to our apartment last night.

  “You have no idea. What’s up?”

  “Just a friendly reminder to get those ear plugs ready…Steve is arriving Friday afternoon.” Steve McGuire has been Becca’s boyfriend for the past four years. They met when we were in college. Last year, Steve’s job transferred him to a location just over the state line, about six hours away. And while Becca had a major issue with it at first, I think she discovered that she enjoyed her independence, and that their time apart makes their time together so much better. Just talking about him, she squeals like a little kid. I am so happy for her, I really am. But the cynical side of me always wonders how she does it, all that time apart. I would constantly be worrying that he was with someone else or trying to get with someone else. Then again, I am not exactly known for my relationship skills or my ability to trust.

  “Hey, Livie,” Michael says from the doorway. He looks exhausted but in a good way. More like in an “I got it good last night” kind of way. “Tell Landon I said thanks…a lot.” As he walks toward his office, I can hear him whistle.

  Becca’s eyes bounce from the doorway back to me. “Landon?” she asks. “As in rocked your damn world Landon?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Okay, you better start explaining before I force it out of you,” she says with her finger pointed in my direction, waging war against me.

  Becca is on the edge of her seat as I recount the events of the previous night. Becca Fredrickson is by far the best friend and roommate a girl could ask for. We met freshman year in college, both party girls ready to cause some trouble. And boy, but did we ever. Becca is many things – funny, smart, loyal, and utterly outspoken and honest. Brutally honest. As my best friend she deems it her right—no, make that her obligation--to continuously call me out on my shit.

  She is not afraid to speak her mind and tell me exactly what she thinks. But at the same time, she never pushes it, never judges me. She stood by my side through Will and the several other bad choices I have made. It’s not often you find a friend like her. It’s why I love her so much and consider her my sister more than I do Madison, my actual sister. It is out of this love that I confide in her so much. Telling her about Landon is a huge mistake; I know this before I even open my mouth, mostly because I already know what she is going to say, and definitely because I know she is going to be right.

  Landon Sutton is the kind of guy that every girl dreams of. He’s smart, funny, and sexy as hell. Throw in a multi-million dollar career and a keen business sense to fall back on should that ever abruptly end, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The man is a master, pure testosterone and innate talent. Doesn’t matter if it’s his hands, his tongue or his cock…they are deliciously magical weapons. Weapons he is so damn good at using.

  And therein lies the dilemma. He wants to use them on me. And for the life of me, I don’t understand why. He can have any damn woman in the world. And he deserves that – the best life has to offer. Which is certainly not me. Being the bastard child of an affair, the black sheep of my so-called family, my abusive relationships – it all leads into why I can’t be with Landon, why I can’t be what he deserves. If I can’t make men like Will or Aaron happy, how the hell am I ever going to satisfy an amazing man like Landon? And while I have come to terms with the fact that I am the fling, the fun-time girl, Becca refuses to see it. She sees something in me that quite frankly I don’t.

  There is a reason I made my rules. To not hurt or get hurt. And if Landon and I attempt anything further than these little flings we find ourselves in? That’s exactly what’s going to happen. We will both end up hurt. And I refuse to let that happen.

  “So…you’re saying Mr. Perfect fucked you in a supply closet of a restaurant?” God love Becca, the entire story of last night and that’s the only part she takes away from it. “So, now what?”

  Well, now I hide and hope he goes away. What does she think I am going to do? “What do you mean?”

  “Was this a one-time – for old times’ sake – hookup, or have you finally realized that Mr. Hot and Steamy is perfect for you?”

  “He left me standing there alone, Bec--what do you think?”

  “I think he was trying to save face and your reputation. I find it noble, honorable even. So I think you are a damn fool if you don’t call him back. Like, now.”

  “So when is Steve coming in?”

  “Uh-uh. We are talking about you. And I am not dropping this. Come on, Liv. He’s a great guy and he likes you…a lot. And I think that if you are actually honest with yourself for one second, you’ll realize that you really like him too.”

  Tasha, the receptionist, appears in my doorway holding the largest floral arrangement I have ever seen: gorgeous red and white roses splayed out among baby’s breath. She places the flowers—that must weight nearly as much as she does, with her petite frame--on my desk.

  I check the arrangement for a card, though I am almost certain I know who they are from. As if on cue, the moment the flowers hit my desk, my phone alerts a text message. I am back for you.

  Becca was clearly chomping at the bit. “Are they from Landon? What did he say?” She hops onto the corner of my desk and inhales the sweet aroma of the flowers.

  “They’re not from Landon.” Becca looks confused. I hand her my phone and the moment she looks at the screen, her hand flies to her mouth. “They’re from Will.”

  Chapter 6

  Landon

  I finish the large mug of coffee. I am not typically a coffee drinker, but after having spent the entire night and most of the morning trying to get ahold of Livie to no avail, I need it if I am going to survive practice today. I place the mug back on the counter, grab my bag, and head out the door. When I’m not texting Livie, I’m mentally kicking myself for being such a jackass last night. The night had started out normal enough – grabbing a few drinks with the guys. Then Livie showed up. Fucking Livie and her killer body that makes mine react in ways that it shouldn’t.

  The smart thing to do would have been to say hi and part ways. The semi-stupid thing to do – well, that would have been to take her home and do all the things I dream about doing to her again every day. But me? I went straight for the downright stupid thing to do. I fucked her in the supply closet of the restaurant. And if that’s not bad enough? I left her in said supply closet like some common whore that I don’t give a damn about. If I am completely honest, though, I spent a good portion of the time between texts thinking about the time we shared in the supply closet--how she felt, what her skin tasted like.

  Supply-closet sex is not exactly my thing. I don’t know what the hell came over me, but the minute I laid eyes on her, I had to have her. No matter what it took, no matter how I felt, I needed her more than I needed my next breath. And fuck if that girl doesn’t do something to me every time I’m around her. And I’m not complaining, far from it. She is hands down the best sex I have ever had. The way we fit together, the way I feel inside her. My dick gets hard
at just the mere thought of her. And it’s not just her naked body, or the way her lips feel on me--not that those aren’t amazing--but it’s her eyes. The most amazing hazel eyes that I have ever seen, so filled with emotions that she tries to hide from everyone, even herself. It’s as though she puts on his tough-girl bravado to protect the fragile little girl inside that she won’t let go. And most people buy it—hell, I would probably buy it, if she didn’t allow me little glimpses inside. She has shown me parts of her that she doesn’t really let anyone see. She’s not as invincible as she likes to think she is.

  I rub my hand down my face. Oh God, what the hell did I do? The minute I walked out on her, I knew I screwed up, but I couldn’t let the guys find out. Livie is not locker-room talk; I wouldn’t let her be, just because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. I had to protect her. There was no other way.

  The locker room is full of hustle and bustle when I enter, guys getting suited up for practice, some messing around on their phones, some regaling others with their escapades of the previous night…like Chase. In an instant, it all stops and everyone goes silent. I try to ignore it and make my way to my locker, but I can feel their eyes on me.

  “Why the hell is everyone staring at you?” Chase asks.

  I shrug, pretending I don’t know. My best efforts last night seemed futile. They know. And when one knows, they all know.

  “Did you do something stupid last night?” Chase laughs.

  “That would depend on your definition of stupid,” I respond.

  If you think sex in a public place is stupid…then yes. If you think sex with your best friend’s sister is stupid…then yes. If you think fucking a girl you like and then walking away like the biggest asshole ever is stupid…then yes. If falling in love with the one girl you can never have is stupid…then hell yes. I did a lot of stupid shit last night. And just thinking about the way it felt to have her in my arms, to be inside of her again has me forgetting the stupid part and smiling like a fool over the amazing part.