“Let’s go grab some food, you must be starving,” he says, which surprises me. It’s not what I expected him to say. “I’m sure there is a cafeteria in here somewhere.”
I nod and follow him out of the room, unsure if he’ll be back to see his dad or not.
At the cafeteria I grab a turkey wrap. He grabs the same thing but he picks his apart and doesn’t eat it. “Fox.” I reach forward and stop his assault on the wrap.
“I want to yell at him. Can I do that? Can I yell at a dying man?”
I shrug. “Sure. It’s not like I’ll hear you.”
He looks at me and then bursts out laughing. God, I wish I could hear him laugh. I wish that so badly it hurts. Is it thick and hearty? Does he snort embarrassingly?
We finish and leave the cafeteria. If we turn right we leave the building; if we turn left we end up in his father’s room again. It’s a literal crossroads and we stand there until he makes a decision.
Left.
I stay back by the door. I don’t know what he’s saying to his father. He’s standing by the bed, his shoulders shaking, and he takes his dad’s hand for a moment. Then he stands upright, runs his fingers through his hair, and rubs his palm over his face and turns. His red-rimmed eyes break my heart. I extend my hand and he takes it. Then we leave the hospice hand in hand.
Fox
I think what I like most about Lola is her ability to say so much without saying anything and to listen so well, without being able to hear. She knew I needed her here and she came. And she knew when to give me space and when I needed her right next to me. “Do you feel better?” she asks once we’re back in the motel.
“No.” I say truthfully. “But I will. I told him everything I wanted to say. All the things that I’ve accomplished no thanks to him. But I thanked him too. He made me focus and he made me a fighter. I told him I wouldn’t hate him anymore. I told him I was letting go and that he should let go too.” He rubs his face with his palm roughly. “I think I felt his hand squeeze mine back. Do you think he heard me, Lola?”
“I do.”
“I can’t thank you enough for coming here. I’ll pay you back.”
“No. Absolutely not. You’re my friend, I’m glad I could do it. I’ve been a jerk, Fox. We are friends, good friends, and I keep pushing you away every time you get too close. But when I saw you hurt and then you left, and the thought of you being alone and dealing with this…I’m an asshole. I’m sorry about everything.”
Friend. Fuck this. I don’t want to be her friend. “Lola. We need to talk.”
She sits in the middle of the bed, crossing her legs, then pats the space in front of her. “Wait.” She holds out a hand. “I’m not done. I’m also sorry I overreacted about the cochlear implants. I know you meant well,” she says after I settle in next to her. That feels like it happened years ago instead of mere days.
I reach for her hand and take it in mine. “I’m sorry for overstepping. You were right. You don’t need to be fixed. You’re perfect the way you are, and I was way out of line.”
“No, you weren’t. You were just being a good—”
“Don’t say friend,” I interrupt. “It turns out that I’m tired of that fucking word. I don’t want to be friends, Lola. We’ve been sleeping together for over a month. You’re leaving soon and you coming here was…you are more than a friend to me.”
“What does that mean, Fox?”
“I don’t know.” I take the world’s biggest breath because I really don’t know. I want to tell her to stay but I can’t say that. I want to tell her I love her but I can’t because I don’t want to do anything that would make her feel obligated to stay. “I don’t know,” I repeat. “You’re more than my friend. A lot more. I care about you. But you’re leaving and I’m staying and I know there can’t be more but we’re not just friends okay? You are important to me.”
“Okay.”
I reach forward and pull her to me. “I missed you, baby.” We’re not endearment kind of people but fuck it’s been an emotional day and I just have so much I need to say to her but can’t. So I let it all pour out through the most passionate kiss I can give her. My hands cup her face, and I am relentless. I kiss her like my life depends on it. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips, then it wars with hers as I slowly begin to lie back, pulling her down with me. But she pushes away and gets on her knees right next to me on the bed, as if she senses how badly I need her. She runs her fingers softly down my chest, with a tenderness I’ve never experienced from anyone in my life. It’s almost reverent, the way she touches every rib and plane. And my cock just gets harder.
She kisses my biceps, then my shoulder, then starts to move down. She licks my nipple and continues lower still. “Lola,” I whisper but she can’t hear me. I gently tug her hair, and she looks up through those dark lashes and huge expressive eyes. “You don’t have to do this, sweetheart.”
“Let me take care of you,” she whispers as she takes my hand off her hair and pushes it away. She doesn’t want to hear my words. She wants to do this for me. Maybe for her too. Whatever it is, when she takes my cock in her grip, any protest I have flies out the window. She moves her hand up and down a few strokes before she takes me deep into her mouth, and holy shit it’s so good I almost have to stop her so that I don’t come before I’ve had a chance to fuck her. But she just keeps licking and sucking, deep, uninhibited. I hear the way her mouth suctions against my dick, slurping, and it’s driving me crazy. Maybe she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. It’s the sexiest noise I’ve ever heard. It’s messy and sloppy and full of passion, which is the way sex should be. Then she does something with her tongue and tightens her grip and I’m done.
“Baby, stop.” I groan. My eyes are closed and I’m about to come. “Sweetheart. Lola! Stop, I’m going to come if you don’t…Oh God!” I yell, but it’s too late. She didn’t stop and I’m coming hard and fast into her throat.
I’m breathless. I’m spent. I’m completely and utterly satisfied. I let out a huge breath. “You didn’t stop,” I say between pants.
I look down at her, and she’s wiping her mouth with her forearm as she crawls back up the bed. “You wanted me to stop? Why?”
“I didn’t want to come in your mouth.”
“Oh, well, I didn’t hear you.”
I’m such an ass. Of course she didn’t.
“But I wouldn’t have stopped anyway. It was good, right?”
I laugh. “You know it was.”
“Good.”
She yawns and starts to get comfy.
“My turn.”
I turn her around and she yelps as I pull down her underwear. “Wait! What are you doing? You don’t have to…I was going to sleep. Oh my God, Fox, what are you doing?”
I sit her right on my face. If I’m being honest, I’m too tired to move. And also, I enjoy eating her this way. I swat her ass so that she shuts up since she can’t see my lips. The second my tongue makes contact with her clit, she grabs the headboard and stops any protest.
Lola sitting on my face is probably the best fucking thing that I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I eat like a man starved and when her hips start moving and she starts seeking out her own pleasure, it takes all my willpower not to grab my cock and fuck myself while I lick her. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been able to get hard that quickly after coming.
With my tongue on her clit and my fingers inside of her, she comes way too fast, crying my name over and over again. I’m sure most of the motel knows what we’re doing right this very second. Not that I give a damn. I love when she loses control like this.
Afterward, Lola’s body is curled around me and nothing has ever felt so right. When the phone rings in the middle of the night, I know who it is before I get it. I sit up at the edge of the bed as the nurs
e tells me that my father has passed away. Lola is clinging to me, peppering sweet kisses on my back. I can feel her tears and her soothing hand as she tries to comfort me and even though she can’t hear the conversation, she knows what is being discussed just like I knew who it was when the phone rang.
We dress and head back to the hospice early in the morning. My father had all the arrangements prepared. He did not want any service and he asked to be cremated, which was already arranged, so the only thing I had to do was provide my address so that the ashes could be sent to me. And just like that, I’m on a plane back to Miami. Nothing has changed yet it feels like everything’s different.
Chapter 9
Lola
Today I’m in a terrible mood. I don’t know why. It’s been a week since Detroit and I’m leaving for Ecuador in a little over two weeks. I’ve saved all my money and tomorrow I can finally pay off my tuition. I met my goal. I’m having amazing sex every single day and Fox and I have reached a good place. I like him, he likes me and we’ll figure out the rest later. I should be ecstatic. But I’m not.
My lease for my shitty apartment is up, and I’m moving in with Fox. He’s been great, and the death of his father did not affect him as much as I thought it would. I kept thinking an old wound would open and all the pent-up anger and resentment would come pouring out. But it hasn’t. He hasn’t said much about it, but he hasn’t been devastated about it either. Anyway, tomorrow I’m supposed to move into his apartment. Like I said, I should be in a great mood.
Tonight Duality’s packed, and I’m serving a bunch of “bros” for a bachelor party. There’s nothing I hate more than bachelor parties. The men always act like entitled pricks—as if they were let out of their cages for the first time. And today I’m covering for another bartender so I’m working on the second floor. Luckily, since it was a last-minute call in, I didn’t have to wear the skimpier “second-floor” uniform. But with all the nudity, the jugglers, the lights, and the music blasting…I’m flustered, if I’m being honest. And today, for some reason I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.
“Hey, another round.” One of the bachelor party guys yells at me—I can tell by the way his mouth opens wide and his chest heaves.
I give him a thumbs-up and start mixing some shots when a hand slams down on the counter not only startling me but causing the shots to actually spill over a bit from the force. Surprised, I look up. “Are you fucking deaf? I said vodka not tequila!”
I look down at the already mixed shots. “No, you said another round,” I protest as I push the seven shots to the edge.
He looks over his shoulder. I think he’s saying something judging by the expressions on the other men’s faces but I can’t see his lips. They glance over his shoulder at me and laugh. I have no idea what they’re talking about, and it’s pissing me off. “Hey! Hey!” I yell. “Fifty-six dollars.”
The guy—the instigator, who I bet is the best man—leans over. “You fucked up my drinks and then you expect me to pay for it.” He laughs. “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll pay for it if you take a shot with me.”
As a bartender I’m used to taking shots with the customers. I try not to because I have a remarkably low tolerance for alcohol, but if it gets these assholes to take their drinks and leave, I’ll do it—or at least pretend to. I mix myself the same shot, watering it down substantially. The seven men gather around and we all tip it down at the same time.
“What’s your name?” the instigator asks.
I lean forward and smile fakely. “Fifty-six dollars.”
“Tell me your name.”
“For fifty-six dollars.”
He turns back, and the group is laughing again. I’ve long ago come to terms with being excluded, but tonight, I’m not having it. In fact, I’m pissed. I’m pissed at having to work all the time. I’m pissed at not being able to hear. I’m pissed that I have to take two buses home and finish packing. I’m just…pissed.
I slam my hand on the bar. “Hey! Hey!”
He turns around and glances down at my palm first then at my face, looking amused. “You have ten seconds to pay or I’m calling security.”
He looks back at his friends then at me and laughs. In. My. Face.
I’ve had enough. I know, as I’m doing it, that this is wrong and reckless and could get me fired, but right now, I’ve reached that limit. That boiling point that everyone has. I’ve gone postal, and I can’t stop myself. I take the soda gun from the bar, aim it at his face, and press down hard. Only for a second, but it’s long enough that the man has sticky cold soda running down his face. His friends are shocked at first but then they all bend at the waist and start laughing. Instigator is not laughing. In fact, I quickly realize that Instigator is really tall and really fit and really really fucking pissed off.
I take a quick step back and the other bartenders, Jane and Barry, stop what they’re doing to come to my aide. The bar is packed, so not everyone has noticed the altercation, but enough have seen it that there is now a small crowd of people around us. I’m pretty certain Instigator is about to jump over the bar and hit me.
“You fucking stupid bitch!” he roars, wiping his face with the palm of his hand.
“Fifty-six dollars, asshole!” I yell right back. He moves forward threateningly but before he can even think about getting over the bar, someone intercepts him.
Fox has Instigator by the collar and is pulling him away. He yells something at me but I don’t know what he’s saying since he’s pushing a flailing, pissed-off man away.
“You’re crazy, girl. You better go,” Jane says when I turn to look at her.
I shake my head at her in confusion.
“Fox wants you in his office. Now.”
“Damn it.”
“I hope he doesn’t fire you, girl. That was pretty epic.”
Shit shit shit. I hope he doesn’t fire me either. But if he did, I would totally understand.
Although, I would do it again in a heartbeat. The guy was an asshole.
Fox
Lola is either crazy or a total badass. I haven’t decided which of the two yet. I storm into the office and slam the door behind me. “You could’ve gotten hurt!”
She’s sitting in my chair behind the desk, looking out the window into the club. She whips her head toward the door. She didn’t hear what I just said but must’ve felt me near because she swivels the chair around.
“Am I fired?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? Probably not. I don’t think I have the authority to do that. But you should be. David’s here tonight; I’m not sure whether he saw what happened.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
“What the hell happened?”
I had been doing my rounds when I got paged to the bar about an altercation. The last person I’d have thought would be involved was Lola. Sweet, don’t-make-waves Lola. “I think the move is getting to me. Or that I’m leaving soon? I don’t know. They were laughing at me. I don’t like it when people laugh at me.”
“One sec, babe,” I say, my nostrils flaring and heat rising in my face. I speak into the mouthpiece. “Fritz, don’t let the guy leave. The one that had issues with Lola upstairs.”
“What? What are you going to do, Fox?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I should have done more than kicked him out of the bar. I should have broken his face. I hope he hasn’t left yet because that’s exactly what I intend to do when I finish this conversation with Lola.
“Okay, well, maybe he wasn’t laughing at me. He could’ve just been laughing in general. But…” She stands and starts to pace. “I’ve always ignored what people say or do around me. I usually just try to disappear into the crowd. Today, I got frustrated and acted out.” She lets out a loud breath before continuing.
“You’re stressed. Everyone has bad days. Plus, you sleep a combined total of twenty hours a week. You’re tired and cranky. That’s what’s wrong with you.”
“You think? No, I think I just need to finish packing and get a handle on things at home. I have so much to do, and I’m running around between your house and mine. I’m feeling out of sorts.”
“Maybe. But you’re also exhausted, and you’re running yourself ragged,” I say. “You have an hour left. Why don’t you lay down here on the couch, and as soon as I’m done I’ll drive you home. And before you argue, I’ll say this: I have to do something or else the staff will think I’m playing favorites. So, you’re off the clock.”
She crosses her arms and pouts. This is the little Tiger I love. The one who gets moody and feisty sometimes. “Stop being cute.” I take her hand in mine, bring my lips to her wrist, and kiss her, then lead her to the couch. “I’ll come get you when I’m done. If anyone asks, I yelled at you.”
“Got it, boss.”
I leave her in the room and go deal with the asshole who fucked with my girl.
Lola
“We’re not at my house,” I say with a yawn.
“Nope. You said you have tomorrow morning off, and honestly I’m too tired to take you home tonight. I’ll take you home tomorrow, and you can have a sex break from me. Anyway you need to pack to move in here so two birds, one stone.”
“It’s only like ten more minutes, and I have so much to do at home, Fox.”
He yawns and we both glance at his dashboard. It’s almost five in the morning. I’ve been running on empty for a long time now, and the idea of sleeping in that big fluffy bed and waking up late with Fox next to me sounds like a dream.
Kiss Me Back Page 16