by Marie Hall
Her eyes twinkled. They shouldn’t have, it was so damn dark out. But I was hyperaware of her. She smelled of citrus and soap, and there was a dusting of glitter on her cheeks, under her eyes. Eyes that were so almond-shaped and alluring I wanted to drown in them. She was gorgeous, perfect.
I was amazed she hadn’t stepped away, pulled back. I was totally crowding her space, inside her bubble, but she didn’t seem scared. Blood had rushed to her cheeks, making her almost sparkle. I dug my nails into my thighs.
“Walk me to my car?” she asked and before I could form a coherent response, she grabbed my hand and slipped her fingers through mine.
The touch of her skin, it was like a zap of electricity down my spine. The thoughts that popped into my head were so corny that I was too ashamed to even admit to having them. Thoughts like the world stopped moving, the stars grew brighter, the air cooler. I was so focused on her touch, the point where our bodies met, that I could almost feel the beat of her heart through my fingertips.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
And I swore mine was completely in sync.
“Who are you, Zoe? Tell me?”
She was smiling a mysterious smile, brushing her hips and breasts against me as she stepped around small ruts in the road. It was all on purpose, I knew it was. I knew women, knew how they flirt, how they tempt and tease. But none had ever made me feel like that. I wanted her to keep touching me, wanted her in my home, in my bed, stripped down to nothing. I breathed hard to shake loose the image of her naked, wearing only the flower in her charcoal hair.
A streetlamp cast a bluish halo across us, highlighting a burgundy-red ’55 Chevy Bel Air with a black drop top. The thing was slick and polished and screamed her.
I whistled. “This yours?”
Pride shone off her. “Yup. Dad bought it for me when I graduated high school.”
She still hadn’t dropped my hand. I should have been scared by this, by how intimate it felt, how perfect it felt, but I just couldn’t work up the worry. I would have run before. I’d been around my share of girls who wanted more, which I never had to give. Everything had belonged to Ryan, to making he sure he stayed alive.
But Ryan didn’t need me now and I was lost. Her touch felt like a promise, like a whisper that I’d finally been found.
She pulled me to the car and leaned against it. I wished I had a camera. I’d have taken a picture of her, the way she looked at that very moment. An Asian Bettie Page—God she was beautiful. She flipped my palm over and toyed with my fingers, skimming along them like she was playing the piano. I swallowed.
“Take me home with you.” I didn’t mean to say it, had no intention of saying it; the words just flew out of my mouth like they had a life all their own. And once they were out there, I felt them lingering thick between us, hanging heavy, and I swore I could barely breathe right anymore.
I knew Doc would tell me I was once again trying to use sex to forget, but I didn’t really think I was. Because I didn’t want to forget this, I wanted to remember it. For the rest of my life.
I was panting like a dog in heat, sweating at the thought of getting to touch her, taste her, make her writhe and moan and say my name. I wanted this woman—it was a kind of lust I’d never felt before, magnified a thousandfold.
Her lashes, so long and curly, fluttered like butterfly wings against the tips of her cheekbones. Moonlight kissed her flesh and made me jealous, wishing I could touch her as easily as it did.
She placed a small hand in the center of my chest and my gut clenched. “Who am I, Alex?”
Her voice was so soft I barely heard the question. I grabbed her hand tightly, wrapping my fingers around her own. She was so still, her breaths were the only sound I heard. I didn’t understand her question. Did I have to guess to sleep with her? Was this a game?
Knuckling her soft cheek, I smirked, then opened my mouth, ready to tell her I don’t know what when she placed her finger over my lips.
“Stop. Don’t say something I’ll regret hearing.” Her smile was little and sad. “Look…” She backed out of my hold and took a giant step away from me, taking her smell of oranges with her and leaving me feeling strangely empty. “Forget I ever asked you to come with me tomorrow. This was a stupid thing to do. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Confused, I could barely process what she was saying. “Wait. What do you mean?”
“I’m not a whore, I’m not a tramp. I’ve acted stupid with you and made you think I was easy, ready to just throw myself at you.”
She sounded angry then, and I was so damned discombobulated. “What are you talking about?”
Her jaw clenched tightly. “I was so stupid to think I could do this with you. I’m sorry—it’s just that I…”
I shook my head and rolled up on the tips of my toes. This was about to become one of those “It’s not you, it’s me” deals and I couldn’t let it. I knew I should, I knew I should have just walked away, but nothing made sense in my world right then except for the fact that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.
“Zoe.” I scrubbed my jaw. “I’m sorry. I like you, okay.”
Planting small hands on her hips, she stared at me so long I thought I should just walk away. I had thoroughly screwed this up. I was so used to just telling a girl she was hot and taking her to my bed—losing myself in her heat, her body, waking up the next morning and realizing she’d scratched the itch and I was over it.
I wanted to make this right—needed to. I wasn’t going to question this strange compulsion or the fact that I couldn’t remember a past she definitely did, because these were the facts: I wanted her and if I had to take it slow to learn her, I’d do that.
Grabbing her hand again, I dragged her gently toward me. She didn’t resist and it gave me hope, that maybe not all was lost.
“I’m not used to girls like you.”
“Girls like me?” She arched a delicate brow.
I smiled. “I want you; I can tell you want me. You’re going to make me work for it.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to yank her hand out of my grasp. “You’re so—”
This time I was the one to hush her, wiping my thumb along her bottom lip. “I’m not talking about sex, Zoe, I’m talking about getting to know you.” I ran my hand up her spine, and her flesh trembled beneath me, making me hungry. I circled the back of her slender neck with my palm, and her lips parted just slightly, tempting me to lean in for a taste. “I call your bluff.”
“What are you talking about?” she whispered, her cinnamon breath caressing my lips.
Bending into her, I said, “You think I can’t do it. Can’t learn you. I will learn you, Zoe. I’ll figure out this mystery, and I’ll show you I’m not just trying to get into your pants.”
Her lips twitched prettily. “I’ve seen you in action, Alexander Donovan. You’ve left a string of girls in your wake. I won’t become a notch.”
I smiled, up to the challenge. I didn’t want to do this. I won’t lie. When I came here, I’d come for a booty call, hoped that maybe having her would quench this need. But standing there then, looking into her eyes, I wanted to. I wanted to prove to her I was more than what she thought I was. More than the guy in a skanked-up bathroom letting two girls I didn’t even know go down on me. I was more than that—I had to be, because if I wasn’t, then I was nothing.
But I was also a man and her temptation was too great. Taking her lips, I tasted her. No tongue, just nip and nibble, pulling her lip into my mouth, memorizing the feel and touch of her. And even though my lip was still tender, I didn’t want to stop. Her breathy whimpers and the way she clawed at my back let me know more than any words that she felt it too. That I wasn’t the only one burning up.
The blood sang in my veins, and the way she moved on me, it should be illegal. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to shove her against the car, strip her and do her right there in the back alley. The old me would have, to hell with who saw—who cares? But th
e universe told me to be different.
And different meant stopping, respecting her boundaries. As painful as it was.
I was panting when I finally pulled away, resting my head on her forehead. “I’m coming with you tomorrow.”
She started to say something, and I shushed her with another gentle kiss. This time I didn’t nibble and linger; I couldn’t and remain a gentleman. Her eyes were soft, her skin flushed. I had to step away then.
Shoving my fists into my pockets, I didn’t touch her again.
“Where do you want me to pick you up?” I asked more curtly than I’d intended, but I literally had to grit my teeth to not go back to her. Every instinct inside me screamed that she was ready, that it wouldn’t take anything to make her want it the way I did. But I knew she’d regret it, nothing about Zoe was what I’m used to. And I liked it.
A lot.
Her hand fluttered, and she giggled, acting different than the drop-dead sex goddess she’d been. This Zoe was acting shy, kicking out her foot and biting the corner of her lip, and it was so cute I almost said “screw my sudden sense of morals.”
“No, you can’t pick me up. Trust me, my mother and grandmother see me pulling up in your car and they’ll think we’re engaged and getting ready to pop out a baby.”
I laughed.
“I’ll pick you up. Dress nice.”
“How? I’ve got some slacks and a button-down shirt, or do you mean suit and tie?”
“Slacks and shirt is fine.”
She stepped into me and I had to count to ten just so I didn’t grab her again.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked softly. “Taking you to them is like throwing raw steak to a tiger. It’ll be brutal and ugly and probably mortifying.”
A sudden thought struck me. “Who will they think I am?”
She glanced away for a split second and I knew my suspicions had been confirmed.
“I’m your boyfriend, right?”
Zoe didn’t say yes or no, just turned and opened her car door. There was laughter in her words when she said, “Meet me out here at ten thirty.”
“Zoe,” I said, just as she slipped into her car seat. She turned to look at me. I walked to her door and closed it gently, then leaned into her open window. Her smell of oranges was all over me. Her car’s interior was just as nice as the outside with leather seats and wood trim on the dash. Her dad must’ve been loaded. I knew a thing or two about cars and these antiques don’t come cheap. Especially ones as nice as that.
“Yeah?” She turned on the stereo, and fifties music blared through the speakers.
I scrambled to think of something to say—I really hadn’t thought it through when I said her name, other than I didn’t want her to go yet.
“Where are the fuzzy dice?” I gestured with my thumb at the rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t a car like this have fuzzy dice?”
“The day I find hot-pink fuzzy dice, I’ll put them up there.” She winked and then a look slipped across her face. Like she was unsure, then I saw a flash of determination before her lips set and she was leaning in and kissing me.
Full-on kissing, teasing me with her tongue until with a moan I parted my lips and she was slipping inside. She was trying to swallow me, and I her. I growled, literally growled in the back of my throat. I wanted to reach inside the window, drag her out, and just lose myself.
Our teeth were knocking, our breaths mingling, and I was drowning in sensation. My body was on fire, trembling like a virgin. I framed her face, my heart hammering, my pulse throbbing, my body desperate for her heat. The pain in my lip only made it better, not worse.
“I want you too, Alex,” she whispered breathlessly when she finally pulled back. “But I don’t want to be a notch.”
We hardly knew each other and yet I was ready to promise her my soul. It was strange this connection we had, this intense vibe, like a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. They say when you meet the one you’ll know.
I didn’t know much in my life, but I did know this… That saying, it’s true.
~*~
Zoe
I was still shaking when I finally walked into my apartment, shoving the door shut with my heel. The adrenaline suddenly dried up and I was exhausted, leaning against the door for support. Jamie was standing in the kitchen; she turned at the sound, then her eyes widened.
“What in the hell happened to you?”
Walking out of the kitchen, she had a bowl of batter in her hands and was stirring it with a wooden spoon. Her hair was caught up in a messy bun, and she was wearing booty shorts and a white tank top. Clearly this was turning out to be a girl’s night.
A dazzling, wide smile crossed her face. “He came to you tonight? Didn’t he?”
I didn’t say anything, but I knew the dumb-ass grin I couldn’t seem to scrape off my face was a dead giveaway.
Setting the bowl down, Jamie walked over to me, then grabbed my hands and led me to the couch.
“Spill,” she said.
Where to start? What to say? I shrugged, my mind too jumbled to form any type of cohesive thought right then.
She punched my arm. “Girl, ever since I’ve seen you with him it’s like the Ice Queen is totally gone. You never used to glow.” She made a high-pitched, breathy sort of noise, then clapped her hands over her mouth. “O.M.G. You had sex. In the car? Ha!”
Crossing my legs, I shook my head. “Of course I didn’t have sex in the car.” I smirked. “Not that I didn’t want to.”
Blue eyes twinkled. “I bet. So then if you didn’t have sex, what did happen?”
He melted my panties. Made me forget my name, that I might look like a bad girl but deep down I was a good girl at heart, and the heart I’d thought had hardened long ago was just as soft and in just as much danger of being shattered as before.
“He kissed me.” My stomach tingled thinking about it, thinking about feeling the hard press of his lip ring and the way his tongue had dueled with mine. The man was sex on a stick and made me so freaking horny I’d almost forgotten that having sex with him right away was a bad, bad idea. Not to mention the not-so-minor detail that there wouldn’t be any sex until we had the “are you clean” talk. I was no dummy. Alex got around, and as much as I had the hots for him, I wasn’t willing to accept an STD from anybody. Not even the golden Adonis.
But Jamie knew me well, and she must have sensed the undercurrent behind those words because she cocked her head and said, “That’s not it. You sound sad. Why?”
Leaning back against the couch, I sighed. “I’m an ass, J. That’s why.”
Her blond brows formed into question marks.
I was embarrassed about the way I’d reacted back there. Why couldn’t I get rid of Misaki, the unsure girl who never felt good enough for anybody? I’d not felt her presence in years, but tonight when he’d asked me to sleep with him, all the old fears and doubts and emotions had come rushing back.
“You know, I might have legally changed my name, but I swear Misaki is alive and well and haunting me,” I ground out, picking at my thumbnail.
“Sweetie…” Her tone changed, went from teasing to concerned. “What happened?”
“He asked me to sleep with him.” It sounded so stupid when I said it out loud.
Thankfully Jamie didn’t laugh, but her lips did tighten and I read the questions spinning behind her eyes.
Sighing loud and long, I groaned. “Ugh, I know. It’s what I want right? I’m so hot for him it’s not even funny, and Alex might be totally different from the man-whore he was in high school, but somehow I don’t think so. And him asking me, just like that, I got this sick feeling in my stomach that as much as I wanted it, if I did that, it was all I would get. And—”
“With anyone else it wouldn’t matter, but it does with him.” Jamie finished my thoughts softly.
I nodded. “Something like that.”
“So what’s the plan then?”
Plan? There wasn’t one. A part of me still wa
nted to back out of the lunch tomorrow. Alex was getting to me, making me feel too much, need too much. And how sick was it that I wanted a man who couldn’t even remember me? It didn’t speak highly of him that in a school where a graduating class was a rare hundred or less for such a big city school, and yet… I knew I wasn’t crazy. I know they say if you want something bad enough you’ll find any excuse to believe it’s true… But there was something in Alex that called to me. He was like a wounded puppy that I wanted to save. Had to save.
I haven’t seen him in years. Not since high school. I hadn’t much thought of him and yet the second he’d walked back into my life, it’s like no time had passed. I’m stuck back in high school, wearing braces, staring at him longingly each weekend as he took his latest flavor of the month to the theater.
“I don’t have one,” I grumped. “I don’t know if I trust him not to hurt me. He’s a dog, a player. A gorgeous one, but I know who he is, so why can’t I make my stupid heart stop obsessing about him?”
Jumping to her feet, Jamie held up her hands. “This conversation is too deep without some chocolate-chip cookies and milk, don’t you think? Maybe even some Pretty Woman on the boob tube, whadya say?”
I laughed as she jogged back into the kitchen and picked up her bowl. The shuffling of drawers pounded through the kitchen, then the oven door was sliding open. “Look,” she called, forcing me to peek at her over my shoulder, “you’re overthinking this. Don’t make it all or nothing. Chances are pretty good you’re not going to get married and bear his children.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She blew me a kiss, then shrugged prettily. “But seriously, if you think about it like that, then it’s easy to enjoy it. Enjoy him, right now. Make a memory so that when you’re old and gray and kissing chubby grandchildren cheeks you can look back and sigh and say, ‘when I was younger I had a torrid affair with the hottest cowboy in all of Austin.’”
“Umm, I doubt I’ll be telling them that.” But maybe Jamie was on to something. Maybe all I was feeling for Alex was an unresolved itch. A desire for him that’d been simmering for years, and seeing him now, being around him… it was all the old memories. Maybe Alex was right after all, maybe if we scratched the itch it would go away. And then I’d breathe again, be Zoe—rockabilly amazon badass.