He noticed, and then I didn’t have to wonder anymore because before my next breath, his mouth was on mine.
He squeezed me to him and brought me to my tiptoes as his lips moved over mine in a hungry, confident caress.
He was spicy, tasting of the wine and the food he’d prepared for us. I tilted my head to the side to give him better access and when I parted my lips a little, he didn’t waste any time taking what I was offering.
Blood rushed through my veins at a red-zone rate at this forbidden thing. I’d never thought of Dillon as someone I wanted to take to bed but now I couldn’t imagine why not. Heat filled my belly and my nipples tightened as Dillon continued to use his tongue. My hunger for him built to a level I never knew was possible from kissing alone.
Kissing had always been a tease, a preliminary for my partners and me before we got naked. Kind of like a requirement before we got to the good stuff. It never lasted more than a minute or two before we shed our clothes.
But Dillon’s kiss was fulfilling in itself. So hot, so expressive, so good. I would have been happy to continue kissing him for hours.
Then suddenly Dillon pulled back, a horrified expression on his face. He dropped his hands like my sweater had caught fire.
“Becca, I’m sorry, I—didn’t mean for that to happen.”
I wanted to play it cool, but that was difficult when I was out of breath myself, more than a little dazed, and my nipples were clearly defined through the thin cotton weave of my sweater.
“It’s okay,” I said, taking a step back, too. “It was the moment, you know? I was so excited for you and we just—“
“Got carried away,” he finished.
I smiled shakily. “Exactly. No biggie. We’re both adults, right?”
“Yes. Right. Exactly.”
My knees were shaking, so I sat down before I fell down. “Let’s just eat and forget that ever happened, okay?” I said desperately.
“Yeah, good idea.”
We ate in silence, each avoiding the other’s eyes. I didn’t even taste the pasta. When we were done, I grabbed the dishes and cleared the table.
“That was great, Dil. Thanks.”
“No problem.” He stood watching me for a moment and I knew he wanted to say something else. God, I hoped he didn’t apologize again.
“Hey, didn’t you have a show tonight?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Wear the blue shirt. It looks good with your eyes.”
I flashed him a brief, uncomfortable smile and brushed past him, heading for my bedroom.
“You’re still coming, aren’t you?”
I stopped and turned, my heart thundering. I didn’t want to go, to face more of the discomfort we’d shared at dinner. I didn’t do tension, sexual or otherwise. But if I ditched, he’d know the reason.
“Of course I’m coming. Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Okay, well, I just thought—“
“I’m coming,” I said a little more forcefully. I grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. “See you there, okay?”
“Okay.”
I took my time in the shower, mind racing. This was ridiculous. We were acting like a couple of kids on the opposite side of the room at their first boy-girl dance, too afraid of each other to cross the divide. We were adults. We were both single, attracted to each other, and living in the same apartment.
There was only one thing to do.
Chapter Seven
Though I had never crossed the threshold of a bar before I turned twenty-one, dive bars had become my second home. I’d been hanging out in the dank, smoky places that featured cheap beer and cheaper women since I was at Emory playing in my first band.
The tables were always sticky, the light over the bars always neon and the beer on tap always the cheapest stuff money could buy. It was night-and-day different than the sweeping green lawns and large, airy Southern home in which I had grown up, but if I wanted to achieve my goal of making it in the music business, I knew I’d have to pay my dues.
Lately, though, I was finding it harder and harder to get excited about the lousy gigs we landed. I felt like I was the only one in the band actually interested in the music. The other guys were so-so musicians but they did it mostly because it got them laid on a regular basis and, really, what else did they have to do? I still loved the music, but if it hadn’t been for the promise I’d made to myself and the people who cared about me, I probably would have quit this life of nights in bars a long time ago.
As I set up the amps and the mic stands before Road Kill’s less-than-anticipated show, I wondered if Becca would show up. Willie’s was one of her frequent hangouts. She knew the bartenders, the regulars and, of course, the band. With her stunning looks and air of sexual confidence, every eye would be on her the minute she walked through the grimy door. She always got a table up front and always listened to the whole set. If we had been cool enough have them, she would have been our lead groupie.
But then I screwed up, gave in to my obsession, and kissed her. I could tell it freaked her out and now I didn’t know if she’d show or not. I might have messed it all up because I couldn’t keep my hands, and my lips, to myself.
Ted, Bobby, Ted’s girlfriend, who was our new lead vocalist, and I set up our equipment, had our customary pre-show beer, then took the stage to the light applause of the four or five half-buzzed people who realized we were there.
As much as the Becca issue weighed on my mind, as soon as the music started, I felt all the worry leave my body. Music always had that power over me. I got totally lost in the sound, in the sensation of the strings beneath my fingertips, the vibration that reverberated through my wrist and forearms when I plucked the strings in the sort of country-rock song I’d written myself. Everything else faded away: the bar, the stale cigarette smoke, even the other people on stage with me and the sparse audience nodding along in time to the song. It all went away, taking me to a sort of musical nirvana.
We were getting close to the end of the set when I looked up and saw her strut through the door.
Every male eye in the room went to Becca like a magnet the second she stepped into the place. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman in room, but she had this air of confidence about her that made her the sexiest. It helped that she wore a short black skirt and deep-cut top as red as her lips. She sauntered through the smoky fog of the dingy bar like she owned the place and claimed her usual table right in front of the stage.
I knew I was staring. How could I not, after that kiss we’d shared in the kitchen? She had my head spinning and it was all I could do to keep it together long enough to play.
Becca looked right at me and threw me a sexy smile. I missed a note or two and was suddenly very thankful I was a guitarist and not the lead vocalist, because there was no way that skinny little mic stand could have covered up what I was feeling right at that moment.
I made it through the last song by sheer force of determination, thinking all the time about what I would say to her, how I would play it. The other guys being there would help for a change.
She thought the whole thing had been a mistake, just something that happened by accident. I knew it had been inevitable. I’d been fantasizing about kissing those full, sexy lips for what seemed like forever, even though she didn’t think of me as anything other than a friend and it would probably totally screw up the good thing we had going. But I couldn’t help it. She’d looked up at me, eyes shining, lips parted, feeling so perfect against me that I let down my guard for a half second and kissed her.
It had been everything I imagined and more.
We finished the set to light applause and the guys tripped all over themselves throwing their instruments in the cases and switching off amps so they could drool over Becca in closer proximity.
I took my time, putting my Fender in its place, winding up the cables, gathering up the amps and mics. Usually I’d bitch about tearing down by myself, but not tonight. I ne
eded the time to settle my body’s reaction to Becca. My hands shook a little when I flipped the last latch on the last case and turned towards the table where Becca sat, expecting the guys to be gathered around her, vying for her attention.
The guys weren’t there.
I put a smile on my face and strolled over as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
“Nice set,” she said, looking up at me. “Here.” She slid a cold one across the sticky table and I took that as an invitation to sit.
“Thanks.” I took a long pull on the bottle, delaying the moment as long as possible. “Where did Ted and Bobby run off to? They have a sale on cheap gin or something?”
Becca looked at me with sort of a half smile as if she knew something I didn’t. It made me nervous and turned me on all at the same time. “I told them to get lost.”
“Why?”
She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at me like I was a naughty schoolboy. That turned me on, too. “You know why.”
I took another pull on the bottle, even as I felt blood beginning to flow southward all over again. My fly became suddenly very uncomfortable.
“Things have been different since the bathroom thing. And then tonight.”
“Yeah.” I finished off my beer and Becca slid her bottle over to me. I wasn’t sure whether I should apologize or what. I certainly wasn’t sorry it had happened.
“Honestly, it took me by surprise,” she said, tapping her blood-red nails against the table rhythmically.
“Me, too.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
I choked. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she said in a breathy sigh. “It’s weird, ya know?”
Tension deflated like a balloon that had a slow leak. “I know. I mean, we’re friends.”
“Right. That’s what I kept telling myself.”
I nodded. This clearing-the-air thing was good.
Becca tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned in even closer. “But then I kept thinking about it.” She wet her lips. “And getting turned on.”
“Really?” My male pride got a big boost and my zipper strained a little more. I hadn’t totally weirded her out, then. I shifted in my seat, not sure how much I should admit to. All the cold showers since she’d walked in on me in the bathroom that day? The dirty fantasies that played out a much different ending to the waltz at the Christmas ball? The constant boner?
“Yeah. And I think you know what we have to do,” she said and disappointment laced through me. She was going to ask me to move out, I was sure.
I swallowed. “What’s that?”
“We need to just do it. You know, get it out of our systems.”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. There was so much blood rushing away from my brain, I figured it could very well have been some sort of aural hallucination.
“Do it?”
She smiled. “Have sex. Hit the sheets. Fuck.”
“You mean you and me?” My head buzzed and the beer wasn’t the cause.
“Sure,” she said with a shrug like she was agreeing to buy the next round. “Why not?”
I was sure there were at least a hundred good reasons why not. But my brain wasn’t at peak performance at that moment.
“We’re both adults, right?”
“Yes.”
“And single.”
“Yes.”
“And attracted to each other.” She met my eyes and I saw the desire I’d been sure was one-sided reflected back at me. Lord, I was a goner.
“I thought you didn’t like nice guys.”
She smiled. “That was before I saw what was under all those boring shirts.” Her grin faded a little and she sat back in her chair. “Unless you don’t want to.”
If I hadn’t been in so much pain, I would have laughed. Want to? It was all I’d thought about anymore.
“No.”
She cocked her head.
“I mean, no, I’m not saying I don’t want to. “ I leaned towards her and took her hand, hoping I didn’t seem too desperate. She was used to suave guys, cool guys. Guys who had tattoos and piercings and were “interesting”.
“I want to. More than anything.”
“Good,” she said, big smile back in full force. “Let’s go.”
“You mean right now?”
“You got someplace else to be?”
“No.”
She stood up and tugged her skirt down a little. “Then what’s the problem? I’ve got plenty of rubbers.”
“No problem,” I said, getting up. “I’ll just grab my gear.”
She smiled. Even in the dark, her dark eyes were luminous and liquid, her mouth so ripe and lush, I couldn’t wait to get another taste. She walked around the table and went up on her tiptoes. She slid a hand behind my head and pressed her lips to mine. Before realization even penetrated my lust-slowed brain, she pulled away.
“See you at home, then,” she said. Her gaze lingered a moment before she turned and sauntered out of the bar, every male eye once again glued to the way her ass moved beneath her skirt with each tilt of her hips.
I watched, as enthralled as all the rest, as Becca walked away from me. Then I scrambled up on the stage to grab my gear.
Just then my cell phone rang. I grabbed it hastily and flipped it open as I carried my guitar case towards the door.
“Dillon?” a high, familiar voice said.
I stopped in my tracks. “Hailey?”
“Hello, Dillon.”
I didn’t know what to say. There were a hundred things I should ask, the first being why the hell hadn’t she returned my calls and why was she calling me now. Honestly, I really didn’t care. I had other things on my mind. Well, one other thing, actually.
“So, how have you been?”
I set my guitar case down. “Uh, fine.” Finally my brain engaged. “Why are you calling me?”
“I can’t call my boyfriend?”
“Hailey, we haven’t seen each other for over two months. You disappeared.”
“You’re mad.”
The conversation was like some alcohol-induced dream. I didn’t have the patience to deal with her games. “No.”
“Good,” she sighed. “I was afraid you’d be mad.”
“I mean, no, I’m not anything. We’re not anything.”
She paused. “Can I see you?”
“Why?”
“I just want to see you. Catch up. Is that a crime?”
“Hailey. I’m…I have to go.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll um, talk to you later. Call me.”
The phone clicked off and I stood there staring at it, wondering what the hell had just happened. I shook my head and tucked the phone into my pocket. I didn’t have time to worry about Hailey.
My most vivid fantasy was about to come to life.
Chapter Eight
It had been a long time since I had been nervous before sex. I was confident, I knew what I wanted, and I knew how to get it. Even though I wasn’t a size zero, I didn’t have body image issues and none of my previous lovers had ever complained.
But walking back to our apartment alone, thinking that in a few minutes Dillon and I would be naked together for real this time, gave me a fluttery sensation in my belly. I thought of us finally touching, licking, sucking—and it had my pulse racing and me walking just a little faster.
I unlocked the door and headed straight to my room. I had the scene all planned out. We’d start out on the couch with some deep kissing and heavy petting before moving to his bed—it was bigger. I’d already showered and shaved all the pertinent locations and would change into the g-string that practically guaranteed mutual satisfaction. We’d have eyebrow-singing naughty sex, then I’d kiss his stunned features goodnight and slip back into my own bed, itch thoroughly scratched. Dillon and his hot bod would be off my mind so I could concentrate on something other than screwing him silly.
I dug a condom out of my top dresser drawe
r, considered for a moment, and grabbed a few more. Just touching the packets, thinking about ripping them open and rolling them on Dillon, was making me seriously hot.
I dove back into the drawer in search of my red thong, the one with the rhinestone star that would bulls-eye my sweet spot. It wasn’t there. I sifted through the other drawers, frantic now, because Dillon should be back any second. I wanted this experience to knock his socks off.
I dropped to my knees and tossed up the dust ruffle of my bed, wondering if I was woman enough to brave the dust bunnies to see if that was where my superstar thong was hiding.
The front door opened and closed and Dillon’s quick footfalls shook the floor, rattling my Elvis figurines and my composure.
“I’ll be right there,” I called, shoving my hand underneath the bed. I went further underneath, head and shoulders under the bed now, bare ass sticking up in the air.
Then I heard him enter the room and felt his warm hands on my waist.
“God,” Dillon breathed a second before I felt him kneel behind me.
I jumped a little, hitting my head on the side of the bed, but once he started caressing my backside, I didn’t care.
Fire ripped through my veins and anticipation of this thing finally happening made me shiver. Even if my thong wasn’t going to make an appearance.
I backed out from under the bed, and came up on my knees. Dillon was still behind me and fully clothed. He pressed his front against my back and I could feel he was just as eager as me. Maybe he’d been fantasizing about this, too. That thought send warmth spiraling though my senses.
Dillon hugged me to him, then lowered his head and pressed a hot kiss to the side of my neck. Shivers raced across my skin and immediately hardened my nipples.
I raised a hand and buried it in his hair. He smelled like beer and night and desire. Blood rushed through my veins, making me bite my lip. I couldn’t wait to feel him, skin on skin, on me, inside me, everywhere.
I tightened my grip in his hair, tugging, and he nipped at the delicate skin of my neck and whispered my name.
I turned in his arms and wrapped both arms around his neck. He kissed me then, his mouth telling me in no words at all that he was as eager and hungry for me as I was for him.
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