Tap

by Georgia Cates

  His hands go to his hips, and he tilts his head while looking at me. The contact with his eyes makes my body tingle. And I’m pretty sure my temperature just spiked, judging by the heat in my cheeks.

  He releases a deep breath through pursed lips before pointing over his shoulder. “I wish I could but the driver is waiting.”

  Okay. He’s not interested. That’s too bad. I was starting to have all kinds of kinky fantasies about him pushing me against the wall and doing very dishonorable things to me.

  His mouth says one thing but his body says another.

  He isn’t moving, but his eyes are as they roam my body. What is happening? Is he having one last look before he goes?

  I don’t want him to leave. I’m contemplating telling him so when he interrupts my plan. “I hope you're still planning to come to the festival tomorrow.” Is it my imagination or has his voice just deepened?

  “Wouldn't miss it.” Not after all the fun I had today. “Thank you for seeing me to Ollie’s safely.”

  “You’re very welcome. Call me tomorrow when you're ready to go. I'll pick you up since you’re without your car.”

  I sort of forgot about that. “Okay. What time are you planning to get there?”

  “Probably around nine. I have to check on everything before the festival starts at twelve.”

  I feel like I mooched off Lucas all day. Free beer. Free food. “Is there anything I can do to help tomorrow?”

  “I’m not going to put you to work.”

  I would probably be helping out if Ollie were here. “I don't mind.”

  “We're fully staffed so just come and have fun.”

  Not a problem. “I can definitely do that.”

  “Do you still have my number from when Stout used my phone to call you?”

  “Yeah. I added you to my contacts after he called. I hope that's okay.” Maybe he doesn’t think I’m weird for doing that but I felt I needed to with Ollie acting so peculiar.

  “Absolutely.”

  I make a call to his phone and wait for it to ring once. “That's me. Now you have my number too.”

  “I was just about to ask you for it.” He takes his phone out and begins typing. “Wren Thorn. Adding you to my contacts now.”

  There's that name again. Is it weird I like to hear him call me that?

  I should choose a nickname for him too.

  He’s leaving so do I go for the handshake? The hug? Or what I really want? Dammit. We danced as close as dry-humping teenagers an hour ago. I don’t want to do the goodnight handshake thing.

  I settle for less than I’d like and go in for the middle ground, a hug, all the time hoping it’ll lead to more. “I had a great time today, Brou.”

  “Brou?”

  “If I get a nickname so do you.”

  “Brou. I like it. And I had fun today too, Wren.”

  I position my face so he feels my warm breath against his neck. “I’m glad you talked me into sticking around.”

  God, he smells good. Woodsy. Masculine. I could stand here sniffing him all night.

  He moves and the scruff of his beard scrapes the side of my face, detonating a path of goosebumps down my body. Damn. He barely grazed me. My body would probably go into convulsions if he touched me for real.

  Perhaps it has been that long.

  “I’m very glad you stayed.” Is he really? Or is he being polite? I can’t tell.

  We’re approaching that awkward moment where something has to happen. Let go or take it further. What’s it going to be?

  We simultaneously release one another and step apart. No kiss. And that’s disappointing as hell. I would have enjoyed a goodnight kiss from him.

  I cross my arms so he doesn’t see my erect nipples through my shirt. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I look forward to it.” I watch him from the door for a moment and then close it. I don’t want to watch him walk away.

  What the fuck just happened?

  He could have sent the driver on if he wanted to stay. But he didn’t.

  I gave him the perfect opportunity to kiss me. But he didn’t.

  I don’t know how I could have been so wrong about Brou. Is it possible I misinterpreted the way we danced? I might say yes, but there’s no way I misread the way he placed his mouth so close to my skin. Unless he’s a huge flirt and had no intention of following through with anything beyond teasing.

  I know Ollie is busy being someone else’s hero but right now I need him to be mine.

  Is Lucas dating anyone?

  * * *

  No.

  * * *

  We spent the day together. I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. I think I like him.

  * * *

  Oh?

  * * *

  Oh? That’s all I get? Is spending time with Lucas a bad idea?

  * * *

  No.

  * * *

  Can you give me something besides a one word response?

  * * *

  I guess.

  * * *

  Smart ass.

  * * *

  I’m sure he enjoyed spending the day with you too.

  * * *

  He brought me back to your apt. I wanted him to kiss me. Didn’t happen. Guess he’s not interested. Probably thinks I’m a weirdo like everyone else does.

  One minute ticks by. Three. Five. No response from my brother. He’s gone back into the land of radio silence. Correspondence was nice while it lasted.

  “It’s late and I’m tired. I’m not sitting up half the night waiting for you to message me back, Ollie.” Based on his average response time the last couple of weeks, I might hear back from him in three or four days.

  I go into the guest room and change into my favorite boxers and matching camisole. I’m almost finished brushing my teeth when I hear the doorbell ring. Who the hell is that at this time of night?

  This isn’t my place so whoever is at the door isn’t here for me. Probably some damn hoochie looking to hook up with Ollie.

  I seriously consider not answering the door until I hear the bell again. I guess she sees the light on and assumes Ollie is here. She probably isn’t going away.

  I crack the door with the intention of turning away a strange woman but instead I find Brou standing on the other side. “Hang on a second.”

  I shut the door and unlatch the chain. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. But I forgot something.” He never made it inside so I can’t imagine how he could have left anything behind. He must mean on a different visit to see Ollie.

  I open the door wider so he can enter. He shuts it behind him and stops in front of me, eyes roaming my body. Oh, shit. The way he’s looking at me is . . . lustful.

  “What did you forget?” Sheez. That sounded like a bad impression of a frog croaking.

  “This.” He steps toward me, so close his chest is pressed against mine. His palms cradle each side of my face when our lips meet.

  He kisses me close-mouthed at first but every motion brings our lips closer to opening. And then—bam. His wet velvety tongue touches mine and together the two waltz a slow, seductive dance intended only for lovers.

  He pushes me backward until I’m pressed firmly against the wall. Now, this is one of the fantasies I had in my head earlier. Is he a mind reader?

  I’m trapped with nowhere to go, but for some reason, I’m not scared. His grip is different from Xavier’s. Aggressive, but hot. Not unhealthy.

  His hands leave my face and glide down my sides until they find the bottom of my boxers. Oh, shit. His fingers are creeping up my shorts. They’re touching my butt cheeks. Only my panties prevent him from touching my bare skin. And they’re the same damn cotton panties I wore all day. In the heat. While I was sweating. Fuck.

  “Ohh.” The sound escapes my mouth in a whisper. Softly. Delicately. But his reaction to hearing it isn’t.

  His hands grab the backs of my thighs and lift me so my legs wra
p around his waist, my back pressed against the wall. Hard. “You are so fucking sexy, Wren.”

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders. I squeeze tightly, pulling him closer. If that’s even possible.

  He pulls away, his lips abandoning mine. I watch him close his eyes and bite his bottom lip before leaning in to press his forehead against mine. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  I liked everything he was doing. “I strongly disagree. So much so I think you should do it again.”

  He puts my feet back on the floor. I reach for the sides of his face so I can go in for more, but he stops me by grasping my wrists. He shakes his head from side to side. “Don’t.”

  I’m lost about what is happening. Brou didn’t leave anything at Ollie’s. He had the driver bring him back for me. For this. Maybe more. And now he’s backing out. Did he change his mind about me in literally zero to sixty seconds? Or is it possible Ollie was wrong and Brou is seeing someone?

  Whatever the reason, he’s rejecting me. I’m desperate to get away from him, but he still has my back pressed against the wall. I can’t escape.

  I drop my arms and turn my head to the side so I’m no longer looking into those damn eyes the color of blue lapis. I suck in, trying to shrink into the wall. Disappear. Get away.

  No success. He remains standing so close I can smell the mix of cologne and dried sweat on his skin. He smells the way a man should. So delicious I could lick him.

  “I don’t want you to misunderstand.”

  I’m not confused. “Grabbing my wrists was a pretty clear indication you wanted me to stop.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” He backs away and places his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he sighs loudly. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

  Those are words of regret. My heart plummets. “You wish you hadn’t kissed me.”

  “I do but not for the reason you think.”

  I wasn’t prepared to hear him admit it. That hurts. A lot. “We’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “There’s not even a remote possibility of forgetting that kiss when I look at you.”

  If looking at me is a problem, it’s one I can easily fix. “Then I’ll leave tomorrow so you don’t have to look at me again.”

  “You’re misunderstanding me. Exactly what I didn’t want.”

  He talks in riddles. “Then set me straight. Because I am so confused about what the problem is.”

  “I regret kissing you because it only makes me want you more. Which isn’t an option; you’re off limits to me.”

  Off limits? “Says who?”

  “Stout.”

  I hold my hands out, palm side up. “News flash. Ollie isn’t here.”

  “We had a conversation about you a while ago. He told me if you ever came to visit, I wasn’t to touch you. He was very clear regarding his feelings about it.”

  That pisses me off so badly. I’m apparently the only one of us who believes in the adult sibling respect rule. “My brother doesn’t get a say in who does and doesn’t touch me.”

  “He does when it comes to me; we’re business partners. If I start something with you and he doesn’t approve, it can throw a serious wrench in my working relationship with him.”

  “You want to pretend we didn’t connect? That the kiss didn’t happen?”

  He grasps the top of his hair and pulls. “Ugh. As much as I hate it, I think we have to.”

  I’m a terrible actress. Always have been. “Then I should probably go home in the morning.”

  “Don’t go, Wren.” I gloat inside . . . until I remember there’s no point in sticking around if I have to spend the day acting like I’m not attracted to him.

  “I can do a much better job of pretending this didn’t happen if I’m four hundred miles away.”

  He takes one step away and his hands go to his hips. He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels as a deep exhale leaves his chest. “I don’t want you to go but you’re right. Distance is probably best.”

  I’m stiff as a board when I offer my hand. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Broussard.”

  He takes my hand in his. “Nice? Sure. We can call it that.”

  Lucas Broussard

  The devil is perched on one shoulder whispering in my ear. What are you doing, stupid motherfucker? You had her shoved against the wall with your hands in her shorts. And she loved it. You could be between her legs right now if you’d played your cards right. But you didn’t. You took the pussy’s way out.

  I’m pretty sure Wren was going to let me fuck her. And I walked away. She’ll never know how hard that was for me.

  I did the right thing. I don’t question that for a moment. So why do I feel so miserable? Shouldn’t I be proud of myself?

  The devil leans in closer to whisper in my ear again. You’re miserable because you’ll be jacking off tonight instead of fucking a gorgeous blonde. You should turn this car around and go back to her.

  I would love nothing more than to say fuck it all and go back to Wren. When she’d open the door, I’d throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom. I’d toss her on the bed and worship her body from head to toe. I’d make her come over and over.

  I really need to get home so I can take care of myself.

  I look at my phone and wish like hell she’d text me.

  Come back.

  I don’t care what Ollie thinks or says.

  I want you.

  There’s not a bit of doubt in my mind. If she reached out to me, I couldn’t resist Lawrence Thorn again if my life depended on it.

  A familiar ping alerts me to a new text.

  Where are you? I need you.

  Shit. There it is. A message from Wren. The very one I was hoping to get.

  I’m ecstatic until my brain registers that she sent it to Stout’s phone. Not mine. Fuck.

  I have to respond the way Stout would.

  What up sis?

  I’ve seen Stout call Wren sis and say this exact same thing in some of their older messages. Should be safe.

  You told Lucas to stay away from me? Why?

  Dammit. Why’d she have to ask that?

  That damn little devil is still on my shoulder. She thinks the messages she’s receiving from this phone are from her brother. You can say anything and she’ll believe you. Take advantage. Let her believe she has her brother’s blessing.

  I’ve been lying to Wren but it’s been nothing of any consequence. This is different. A serious kind of deceit.

  He’s not for you.

  It’s killing me to tell her that. But it’s what Stout would say.

  How would you know?

  Stout considers me a womanizer. He wouldn’t hesitate to tell his sister about that aspect of my life. But I can’t. I don’t want to paint myself in that light.

  I know him and how he is. You don’t.

  * * *

  And I guess I never will. Thanks a lot Ollie.

  No. I guess she never will know me or how I am. I’m a little surprised by how that makes me feel.

  Trust me. It’s no great loss.

  Sounds like a brotherly thing to say. I think.

  I really like him.

  She really likes me? Shit. Now I really want to turn this car around.

  But seeing the proof of her liking me changes nothing. She’s Stout’s sister. He’s my partner. And she’s still off limits.

  Don’t be mad.

  * * *

  I am mad. But I still love you. Good night. BTW I’m driving home in a.m.

  I’ve shared more I love yous with Lawrence Thorn in the last couple of weeks than anyone else in my life. Ever. I thought the words would feel empty. They were intended for someone I didn’t know and from someone other than myself, although I was the one typing them. Oddly, I haven’t grown immune to them at all. I feel a little jab to the heart every time I tell her. And I think there may be a bit of a twist to the jab now that I’ve met her.

  Good night. Love you too.

  Oh, shit. W
ren doesn’t have her car. She’ll need a ride to pick it up in the morning. I’m the one who convinced her to leave it. Doesn’t that make me responsible for making sure she gets it back?

  I have to text her. I don’t have a choice.

  Call me when you’re ready to leave tomorrow. I’ll pick you up and take you to your car.

  I get to see her one last time before she goes. That doesn’t suck.

  Thanks but I know how busy you’ll be with the festival. I can call a cab. Probably easier that way anyway.

  What’s easier? Alleviating the need for me to pick her up and take her to her car or her leaving without seeing me?

  Please. I want to see you again.

  I have never uttered, nor texted, those words to a woman. Ever.

  A minute passes. And another. She must be thinking hard about her reply.

  I’m planning to leave early. I don’t want to inconvenience you.

  * * *

  Early isn’t a problem.

  * * *

  Ok.

  Those two letters make me extremely happy.

  See you then.

  The driver lets me out of the Suburban at the entrance to the festival. Plastic cups and napkins litter the grounds. Do people not know what a trashcan is for?

  I find Porter and the Lovibond gang at our booth straightening the disarray. “Wow. This is a damn mess.”

  “You missed the last-call rush. It was fucking crazy. Where’d you disappear to?”

  “I had to take Lawrence to Stout’s apartment.”

  Porter stops and stares at me. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. We’re all here working, and you’re off trying to get a piece of ass from our business partner’s sister?” I want to punch Porter in the face for talking that way about Wren.