by L. D. Davis
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, immediately removing his hand. “I keep forgetting you’re hurt.”
“It’s fine,” I said and slowly started to stand up on wobbly knees.
“Where are you going?” he asked, gently tugging me back down. He planted his palms on my thighs to keep me in place.
“To take something for the pain that won’t knock me out, and then I have to actually work.”
The truth was that I needed to get away from Alden, because that whole scene did something to me. When he was trying to teach me to play, it was cute and comfortable, and there was nothing awkward between us. While he serenaded me, I felt such powerful emotions emanating off him and I didn’t want it to end. I could live with feeling his body wrapped around mine as he strummed his guitar and sang in his silky voice for a very, very long time.
I needed to get away from him because I did not trust myself with him. That music was doing stupid things with my brain.
And my heart.
Alden was quiet for a few moments after I gave him my false reasons for getting up, and then I heard and felt him sigh against me as he lifted his hands.
“Carry on,” he said, but I thought I detected a hint of bitterness in his tone.
I craned my neck to look at his face, but he conveniently looked away and gave me a tiny push, indicating that I should get up. Slowly, I stood up. I looked down at him for a moment, but he still would not look at me. His gaze was fixed on something across the room, but the muscle in his jaw was tense.
I kind of felt like a jerk. In essence, I was using him for my own pleasures and I gave him nothing in return but a hard time, but I couldn’t afford to invest myself any further. Not with Alden, Mr. Sex God of the Universe, hell bent on bedding anything with a va-jay-jay. I had to keep myself emotionally distant, for my protection as well as his.
But I didn’t have to be a bitch about it.
I put my fingers in his hair and ruffled it up a bit, trying to come off as playful. I bent over and kissed his forehead, and then walked away humming “Crash Into Me” as if I totally didn’t feel like Alden had just crashed into me on so many levels.
I went into the guest room to dig out something for the ache in my ribs. When I walked out of the room a few moments later, I found the couch empty. I sensed movement in Alden’s room behind me. I glanced over my shoulder as I walked toward the kitchen. He was in there, moving around and pulling a shirt on, though I didn’t know for sure what he was doing. I went into the kitchen and got a glass of water to swallow my pills. I was just washing the glass when Alden came out of his room fully dressed and wearing a leather jacket.
“I’m going out,” he said, not looking at me.
“Where?” I asked, feeling a gnawing in the pit of my stomach.
“Just out,” he said, swiping his keys off the table by the door. “If you need to leave for anything, there is an extra key in the drawer in the kitchen.”
Then he was gone. He left me staring at the closed door, knowing damn well that he went out to fuck.
Oh, wow.
My pillow was heavenly. It felt like…like a flesh pillow. I didn’t know they made such things. Whoever created a pillow that simulated being held in a pair of strong arms and pressed against a firm body was a fucking genius. I snuggled up closer to the pillow, and the pillow held me tighter.
What?
My eyes flew open as my mind really woke up and comprehended the truth behind my flesh pillow.
I was securely wrapped up in Alden. My arms were wrapped around him and his arms were wrapped around me. My legs were comfortably trapped between his.
When did this happen? How did I not notice a man climbing into my bed and shrouding my body with his? Fuck, I must sleep like the dead.
I looked up into Alden’s sleeping face, wondering when the hell he had come back. I went to bed a couple of hours after he left, after failing to write more than a whole paragraph because I kept checking my phone or looking at the door. It’s not like I cared, because I didn’t. If he wanted to go fuck around, he was entirely within his rights to do so. I had chased Vicodin with a shot of Patrón because I really didn’t care. I just didn’t want to lay awake in the bed the whole night thinking about how much I didn’t care.
I still didn’t care. Despite my little smile that I bit off by biting my bottom lip, I didn’t give a flying fuck that he had come home sometime during the night and felt the need to be this close to me.
Right after he probably fucked some other woman stupid, my brain screamed.
Oh…
I pushed hard against his chest to get out of his grip. Alden’s eyes fluttered open. He loosened his hold on me but he didn’t let me go.
“What the hell is your problem, Little Noa?” he asked groggily, holding his head up to look down at me.
“You can’t come in here like this and...and…and put your arms around me like this after you…you fucked some groupie!”
Oh my goodness. I wanted to punch myself in the mouth for not being able to say that without some control.
He looked at me with his brow pulled between his eyes for a moment, like he was unable to comprehend what I had just said. Then his brow smoothed out and his head fell back on the pillow.
“Noa, I didn’t fuck anyone last night,” he said through a yawn. “I went out, had a few drinks with Greg, and I came back. I promise.”
I eyed him with suspicion. He looked at me and let out an exasperated sigh.
“I was definitely fucking sexually frustrated enough to fuck, trust me on that,” he said bitterly. “But the few girls that tried to slide into my lap last night didn’t appeal to me. I didn’t want any of them. I was hard as a rock, but I didn’t want them, okay?”
“I don’t care if you fucked someone else,” I lied. “I would just care if you fucked someone else and then thought it would be okay to come in here and be all cuddly with me.” That part was true.
He stared at me for a moment. I couldn’t read what was going on behind his eyes. Finally, he said, “Do you really think I’m that much of a scumbag?”
I rolled my eyes. “Puh-lease. You’ve done it before! How can you not remember banging your three women and then the very next morning giving me an orgasm?”
“I remember giving you that hot, wet, liquid orgasm,” he grinned, but then his smile faded. “But I only just now remembered those women.”
He frowned deeply and stroked his knuckles along my jaw. I didn’t care for the touching. That’s why I trembled under his touch. I trembled with apathy. Yup.
“I really am a scumbag,” he whispered. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“You’re just being yourself,” I bit out. “Using women and throwing them away without a second thought.”
“And they’re not using me?” he asked incredulously.
“Oh, come on,” I rolled my eyes.
“Seriously,” he argued. “They want to be able to tell their friends they screwed the Great Alden Breck, Superstar Rock God.”
Pea. Friggin. Cock.
“Well, that’s not really something I’m looking forward to bragging about,” I said. “Now let me go.”
“But I’m so damn comfortable,” he groaned, pulling me closer.
“Why are you in here anyway? Don’t you have your own bed?”
“Yeah, but you weren’t in it. So, here I am.”
“Isn’t that the point in putting me in the guest bedroom? That I’m not in your bed and you’re not in mine?”
“As I recall, I dropped your bags in my room,” he said with a grin. “Once you realized you were in my room, you picked your shit up and hauled ass into the guest room.”
“That should have been a clue,” I snapped.
“I like sleeping with you,” he said, stroking my arm. “You’re so soft and warm, and you smell really good.”
“Buy a puppy. They’re warm and soft.”
“Why have a puppy when I have you?” He sighed with contentment.
/> Oh for the love of…
“Let me up, Alden,” I commanded.
“No way.”
The one eyed monster in his lounge pants was stirring, right against my…
Oh!
“Hey, let me up,” I said with urgency. “I have to pee really badly.”
“You’re lying,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
I reached under his arm, grabbing the skin there, and twisted.
“Shit!” he said and reflexively pulled away.
I took the opportunity to untangle myself from his body and rolled out of the bed.
“You play dirty, Little One,” he growled and got up to come after me.
I shrieked and scurried into the bathroom, locking myself in just as he reached the door.
“You will have to come out sometime,” he said through the door.
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and make me some breakfast?” I said as I indeed sat down on the toilet to pee. “You are The Great Alden Breck after all. Surely you could manage some eggs.”
“Very funny,” he said. “But because I really, really like you, I will make you breakfast. You little brat.”
I heard him move away from the door, his bare feet gently slapping the hardwood floor.
“Flesh pillow,” I muttered to myself. “How stupid.”
***
Alden went to the studio to “get some thoughts out of my head and into music” later that morning while I went to visit my friend Sahara. I had met her when I was with Larson. She was the ex-girlfriend of Larson’s friend Ian, but Sahara and Ian continued to have a close relationship after their breakup. She was the only friend I bothered to keep that had any connection to him.
“Well, well, well,” she said when she came out of her office building where we were meeting. “If it isn’t the beauty that has Alden Breck by the balls.”
“Oh, no,” I sighed. “Not you, too.”
“Not me, too what, honey?” she asked, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s get out of here. I only have an hour for lunch that I plan on stretching into an hour and ten minutes.” She winked at me with her long, thick eyelashes.
I felt so insignificant walking beside Sahara. She was probably the most beautiful woman that I personally knew. Her mother was Indian and her father was of Italian descent. Her skin was bronze in color, even in the winter months. During the summer when she got darker, it only made her big grey eyes that much more prominent. She was tall – well, everyone was taller than me – and athletic, but with soft, enviable curves. She was a very confident woman and it showed in the way she dressed, the way she spoke, and the way she walked.
“So, tell me all about him,” she said in a voice that was naturally deep and raspy in a phone-sex-operator kind of way.
“Do we have to talk about Alden?” I whined. “Everyone always wants to talk about Alden. My pharmacist wanted to talk about Alden. My doctor wanted to talk about Alden. The homeless guy that sleeps on the corner on my street wanted to talk about Alden. Please, Sahara, please don’t make me talk about that peacock.”
Her rich laughter made me smile. “You can’t blame us all. He’s one of the most intriguing men in the world.”
“There isn’t anything intriguing about him,” I said, disgusted. “He’s rich, talented, slutty, and arrogant.”
“And hot, sweetheart. Don’t forget hot.”
We walked to a restaurant around the corner from her office. The first twenty minutes after we sat down was spent talking about her recently failed dates. As beautiful as Sahara was, she was completely single and had the hardest time finding a steady man, but she had very high standards for herself and refused to lower them for anyone.
“Okay, enough about me,” she said slyly after making me laugh at her disastrous dates. “Spill the beans. How is he in bed?”
“I don’t know,” I said, stabbing my salad. “You tell me. I haven’t slept with him.”
Okay. Technically, that was a lie. We’ve shared a bed more times than not since we’ve met.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” she said dubiously. “He is known for his sexual prowess and you are one hot little piece of cake.”
“He is known and he practices said prowess on other women – women that aren’t me.”
Sahara’s looked at me with skepticism. I didn’t blame her. If I were in her position, I’d look at me skeptically, too. What woman spends this much time with Alden and doesn’t have sex with him?
“He promised that he wouldn’t try to have sex with me,” I added.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. It’s the only reason I’ve agreed to be friends with him.”
“Then I was right when I said you have Alden Breck by the balls, sweetheart.” She grinned.
“I most certainly do not. I told you, he screws other women. He hasn’t stopped being a slut,” I pointed out.
“No, but he doesn’t really make friends with other women, does he? Except for that actress, or so I’ve heard.”
“Well, he’s made friends with me,” I said, ignoring the comment about Trisha.
“Okay, so he’s promised not have sex with you, but is he sexing you?” she asked slyly.
“Sahara, you really are a much nosier bitch than I ever could have imagined.”
That rich laughter again made me smile.
“Come now,” she said. “Is he getting you off? I have a feeling he isn’t the type of man to keep his hands to himself.”
I eyed her as I thought about what to share and what not to share. Oh hell, at least two of my friends, plus a spouse, and a few pedestrians were already aware that the man had made me squirt.
“He doesn’t keep his hands to himself,” I murmured so low I wasn’t sure she heard me.
“Holy shit,” Sahara said, and Sahara rarely cursed. She didn’t think it was lady-like or the way to catch a good man. “When did it first happen? Tell me the details, sweetheart.”
So, I told her about that first night in front of my mirror and the subsequent squirting. She asked me very personal questions regarding the dirty things he had said, and how many times I had come. I told her about the limo and how I felt afterward, which helped me transition into the serenade and how I felt after that. Thankfully, she was very quiet during the second half of my experiences.
“Wow,” she said when I finished. “You have feelings for him.”
“I do not!” I exclaimed, making a few people around us glance at us.
“Noa,” she said almost sympathetically as she softly shook her head.
“I hardly know him,” I argued. “I’ve known him for less than three weeks!”
“My parents met in Central Park and were married a month later,” she reminded me. “They have been together for forty-two years.”
“That’s different,” I said as I pouted.
“How is it different?”
“One of them wasn’t an arrogant rock star.”
“Listen to me,” Sahara said, reaching across the table for my hand. “I understand why you may feel the need to deny it to me and yourself. You are right; he is a slut, and who knows if he will ever settle down. And I know after Larson, you are afraid, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a stormy, short love affair. I’m actually amazed that you’re going on tour – that’s a big adventure for you.”
“You make it seem like I’m some kind of hermit that rarely sees the light of the day,” I said, frowning.
“Practically.” She smiled softly. “Since Larson, you have been. I mean, when I first met you, you weren’t way out there or anything, but you were more…you were just more.”
She pulled back her hand. I tugged on my ponytail, frustrated.
“You’re right, I’m different,” I said. “And honestly, Sahara, the old me – the one from before Larson – would have already fucked Alden, but then we wouldn’t be in this situation. I think he likes me so much because I’m not that easy.”
“Okay, so don’t
make it easy.” She grinned. “Make him work for it every time, but give it to him and give it to him good.”
“I don’t know if I want to,” I said with an exasperated sigh.
“Of course, you do. You just don’t want to get hurt. Look at it from a different angle and do it.”
My lips twisted to the side as I considered what she was saying. This whole conversation just shook up a whole bunch of feelings I wasn’t even sure were real.
“Oh, before I forget,” I said, digging into my bag. “Alden invited you to the gala.” I handed her two tickets.
“Oh, how lovely!” She beamed at the tickets. “I have a date Saturday, but I will reschedule.”
“Why not bring him with you?”
“Sweetheart, I would never go on a first date with a man I do not know to a function like this. I have no idea if he knows how to behave in such company.”
I snorted. “Have you seen my date? It’s his party and I’m not sure that he knows how to behave in such company.”
Laughter was our constant companion for the rest of our meal, and not once did we talk about Larson. When Sahara and I parted ways on the sidewalk in front of her building later, I was in high spirits. I was in the best city in the world, with all of its unfriendly, bustling people, crazy taxi drivers, and insane traffic. I had another opportunity to spend time with my good friend at the gala on Saturday, and then there was Alden.
The thought of him made something flutter in my belly. I was going to meet him for dinner in a few hours, but I suddenly had the desire to see him sooner. I wondered if I could meet him at the studio and watch him work. I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket to give him a call.
My head was down, focused on the pictures Kristy sent to me of her and Trent on their honeymoon. New York was probably one of the worst places to walk with your head down. The city was teeming with people at that time of day, and probably most of them would have been pretty disgruntled if I ran into them. And then I did. Run into someone. I just barely kept my phone from flying out of my hand as I uttered apologies to the body that had not moved.
Pushing my phone back into my jeans, I said, “I’m so sorry. I should watch where…” I looked up into that face, that angelically beautiful, masculine face.