“Where’s your phone?”
“Left it at home. Only brought my card.” She pulls her dress down and I see the corner of her credit card peeking out of her bra. My cock twitches against her stomach and she smirks as I reach for her dress again and pull it up.
“Easy, Mr. Possessive.” She teases.
“Don't do that.”
She shrugs and grinds against my leg. I groan, my body aching, the pounding of my blood through my veins louder in my ears than the music. Her eyes light up when she feels me harden further between us, and it fuels her to turn around and press her behind into my throbbing crotch.
“Jenna.” I grab her waist and move with her, the silk of her dress sliding across my denim.
“Just feel it.”
I lean down, brush my lips across her neck and whisper in her ear, “Believe me, I feel it. If you don't stop I’ll drag you to the back and take you.”
Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at the same time she rolls her hips and runs her tongue along her top lip.
“Is that a promise?”
I grab her wrists and turn her to face me, holding her hands by her side as I crush my mouth to hers. She moans and sags against me, opening her mouth; a direct invitation to my tongue and I accept, tasting and savouring her. She brushes her tongue softly against mine and I wrap my arms around her back, capturing her and allowing her to snake her hands into my hair. She stops her dancing and we stand dead still in the centre of the dancefloor, not caring about anything but devouring each other. I growl and pull her flush against me, lifting her off her feet.
“Will you give it a rest?!” I pull back to look at Jade who is standing with her arms folded, swaying.
Jenna and I look at each other and she starts giggling breathlessly, moving her hands from my hair to her forearms. I look back at Jade and suppress a laugh.
“I mean it.” She slurs, blinking rapidly, “You’re acting like children. Stop with the fucking games.”
Jenna stops laughing and I know that struck a chord; game over. Jenna steps back and puts her hand to her mouth.
“I want to go home.” She says unsteady on her feet. I reach for her but she shakes her head, before lunging off the dancefloor to the first available chair.
I follow her to where she’s sat with Jonas and Grace.
“Dude, she needs to go home.” I say referring to Grace, ignoring the patch of sick on the floor next to her chair.
“I think we’re all done.” Jade and the other two join us.
“Cool.” Jonas says, “No need for taxis. I’ll take Grace, Jade and Amber. Deac, you take Jen and Marie.”
“Jonas I’ll go with you.” Jenna mumbles with her head between her legs. I move to stand next to her, convinced she’ll fall off her chair.
“Don't be immature.” I scald. “Grace will spew so you have to sit in the back. You’ll get car sick and if you don't get pelted with Graces’ chunder, it’ll be your own.”
“Fine.” She sits up and pouts, reaches for the glass of water Jade puts on the table and drinks it down in one wiping the back of her mouth with her hand.
“Marie where do you live?”
“I can get a taxi-“
“Where do you live?” I repeat, losing my patience.
“It’s on the way, I live on Sun Street, before you reach Folquay.”
“I know it. Come on.”
I lift Jenna up off her seat, noticing she’s falling asleep at the table and she flops her head onto my chest as her legs dangle from my arms and her hands grab my shirt. I never thought seeing a drunk girl in an explicitly short dress with dirty white plimsolls could ever turn me on, but having Jenna so close to me and snuggling into my warmth has me staggering out of the club like I’ve had more than the half a bottle of beer I drank at the table.
Marie pisses me off instantly. Maybe because she’s the type of girl I would have taken home before Jenna came back and I hate that I still bother looking, or maybe because she walks too close, brushing against me and makes small talk in some sort of garbled intoxicated language. She’s either blissfully unaware or completely ignorant to the fact it’s Jenna who has all my attention. She stops us on the way to the car park, needing to take off her sky-high heels, and all I want to do is get Jenna home and put her to bed.
“Here.” I hold my hand out for the shoes. If anything else puts this girl off balance, she’ll face plant the pavement.
“Deacon, I can walk.” Jenna mumbles against my shirt.
“No way, I’m playing superhero remember?”
We reach the car and I reluctantly put Jenna down. She slumps against the bonnet of the M3 while I open the passenger door for Marie. I pull the seat forward and she fumbles inside, catching her foot on the seatbelt.
“Please tell me if you’re going to be sick.” I say before turning back to Jenna.
She brushes me off and slides in the car, bumping her head on the way down. I snort a laugh and race round to the driver’s side.
“I can walk to my door, Deacon.” Jenna groans as I carry her up the path to her house. Jonas is already home after dropping the girls off and I see the light on in his room. I kick the door open, knowing he’d leave it unlocked, and take Jenna inside.
“Where do you want me to put you?”
“I need food.”
I carry her to the kitchen but she kicks her legs so I lose grip and she falls to the floor. I reach out to help her up but she grips the counter and heaves herself off the floor, reaching for the bread bin, her feet slipping on the floor like it’s iced over.
“You can go home.” She says as she makes her way to the fridge. I’ve missed watching Jenna crash all over the place in her drunken state.
“Stop your bossing. I’m looking after you.”
She scoffs but continues to put together a sandwich.
“Want one?” She asks and she licks butter off the knife.
“No. You knock yourself out.” I step back, smiling and shaking my head, “I’ll go get your room ready.”
I pull back the sheets for her and turn on the nightlight, and notice her pyjamas are on the chair of her desk, where she always leaves them. But when I get back to the kitchen, Jenna is sitting cross legged on the floor and falling asleep, having only eaten half her sandwich.
“Can you eat any more?” I ask, crouching down to her.
She shakes her head and pushes the plate across the stone flooring, “No more food.”
So I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder; she squeals but covers her mouth, realising her parents are asleep upstairs.
When we reach her room I sit her on the edge of the bed, and she rolls her eyes to the back of her head, lolling her head from side to side.
“I’m not being an arse, but I’m gonna help you into your pyjamas.”
“I’d much rather you helped me out of them.”
“I’d love nothing more, Jen. But not tonight.”
She pouts but sighs, evidence she didn’t know what she wanted my response to be. I pull at the hem of her dress so she lifts herself off the bed and raises her arms, helping me take it off. I reach for her vest on the chair, but she grabs my shoulders. I still at the contact, summoning the willpower to reject her.
“Can I sleep in yours?”
I hesitate, wondering if I really want to go outside shirtless, but knowing I can't say no to her I pull it over my head and then over hers. There is no greater turn on than seeing her wearing my clothes; the shirt swarms her and makes her look vulnerable and I reach for her make-up wipes to afford me a few seconds to compose myself. I crouch down in front of her and wipe away the black stuff off her eyes, until I can see her glowing skin again.
“There.” I say wiping my thumbs under her eyes, “Do you want some water?”
“Will you come lay with me?” She asks, struggling with the bed sheets.
I don't know if Esteban and Mindy will be happy with me lying in their daughter’s bed, but I just can't resist her. I empty my p
ockets on her bedside cabinet and lay next to her, pulling the sheets over us.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, stroking my hand through her brown waves.
Chapter 14
Jenna
Shit. I feel like shit. My head hurts, swimming in an alcoholic daze, and my stomach is growling. I’m hungry but too tired to eat.
“Fine.” I lie, shivering as Deacon strokes his hand through my hair. It feels like we’re back at university, “I feel fine.”
He gives me the all knowing smile, and I know he sees straight through my attempted cover up.
“Why did you call me?”
I hesitate, can I be honest with him and pass it off as being drunk? It’s worth a shot.
“I didn’t want to think about you tonight, last night. Whatever. But the more I made myself not think, the more I thought, until I had stolen Amber’s phone and I was dialling your number. I didn’t even know I knew it.”
He laughs...at me?
“Why are you laughing at me?” I have to blink with more effort; he’s too close for me to focus on.
“I’m not. I’m remembering your reaction when I called you out. I didn’t know you were such a tigress.”
My mouth opens involuntarily, his words hitting like a punch in the stomach, and I sit up on my knees, steadying myself on what I know are granite abs under my duvet.
“Why would you know?” I ask about to tell him he’d know all about it if he didn’t ruin everything that night on the beach; but the anger has already gone as I look down at him, desperate to take him here on my bed and release this tension, “I know what I’m doing.”
“I don't doubt that. Lie down before I break my own rules.” His voice is hesitant and I watch him swallow hard before I move my hands and lie back down.
“What rules?” I ask, laying my head on his chest and listening to his heart beat in time with mine.
“Don't sleep with drunk girls. It doesn’t make for good sex, and it’s embarrassing when they don't remember it the next day.”
He purses his lips, obviously wishing he hadn’t revealed that much information.
“Well,” I stutter, knowing I should be repulsed, but feeling warm between my legs, “It’s nice to know you have enough experience to make it a rule.”
He doesn’t answer, and the way his lips are pressed tightly together means he doesn’t want to dig himself a bigger hole. I let the silence accompany us for a while, as we both look out of the window at the sea, but I can feel my mind and body drifting to sleep.
“I’m not messing you around,” I whisper, “I promise. I’m confused and I can't think about anything when I’m around you, but I’m not playing games and I’m not getting the kick that everyone thinks I’m getting out of it.”
“I know.” He hugs me tightly, and my eyes close, “It’s complicated, but we’ll figure it out.”
He continues to talk but his words are lost in the hangover that is already creeping into my system and the sleep that’s taking over.
~
“Jenna?” My mum calls through the door and I bolt upright in bed.
I rub my eyes and then groan as the pounding in my head reminds me of last night. Deacon has gone, but I’m still wearing his black shirt and my room smells of him.
“I’m awake.” I moan, barely above a whisper, my voice like gravel from singing at the top of my lungs last night.
The door clicks open and she walks in with a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of buttered toast.
“Did you have a good night?” She asks as I pull the covers up to my neck to hide my attire.
“If my hangover is anything to go by, I did.”
She hands me a pack of paracetamol and I wash two tablets down with a glass of water Deacon must have left on my bedside cabinet.
“Shall I help you pick out a dress?”
“For what?”
“The country club. I told you about it on Monday.”
~
“Mum, do I have to go to this thing? I’ve got stuff to do at the shop.”
“Yes. It’s the last Sunday of the month and we always go. Jade is joining us for brunch, because she has to pick Pip up from a party at half three.”
Mum is sitting on the edge of my bed handing me summer dress after summer dress. She has forbidden me from wearing what she calls ‘London Clothes’ to go to the country club today. Apparently it’s a family thing that happens once a month and I wonder how my parents afford the membership. My mum is a retired writer; and Dad retired early from his job as a fisherman because of his back, although he still goes fishing a few times a week and sells his catch to Franc at Blue Ray’s. Mum never mentioned this family tradition during our weekly phone conversations when I was living in London, and I can't help but wonder if this is just another family trap to get Deacon and me to spend time together.
“I like the yellow one. Your grandmother always looked good in yellow too, I think it was the Spanish skin.”
“Yeah, I like the yellow one.”
I don't, not really. I’ve recently become more of a shade kind of girl; white, black, grey. But whether this is a family tradition or a setup, my mum is excited about getting out of town and having some girl time, so I’ll wear the yellow dress for her.
~
We arrive at the Halliwell Country Club in two separate cabs with Jonas pulling up behind us in his car. Emma insists on paying for our cab while I’m sure Deacon has insisted on paying for the boys’. Steve couldn't get out of work to join us, and I start to wish I’d said the same the minute I see Deacon step out of the cab, wearing grey suit trousers and a white shirt, the top of that beautiful chest on show. He instantly looks for me, but I sink in my seat while Emma fumbles in her purse for the money. When we finally get out, the men have disappeared to hire their golf clubs, and Jade, Grace and I pull on our sunglasses, all hanging beyond explanation. Emma and Mum bounce off towards the cafe as we trail behind them, feeling sorry for ourselves.
“What happened last night?” Grace asks slurring, and I’m sure she’s still drunk as she bumps into me as we walk.
“Nothing. Deacon took me home and put me to bed.”
“Ooh!” She shrieks, and the mothers look over their shoulders at us.
“Not like that. I was a mess. He just helped me get in bed so I didn’t hurt myself.”
“Hair of the dog, girls?” Emma says sitting down and beckoning a nearby waiter.
My stomach churns and I shake my head, sitting down and slumping my shoulders. My wish was to get drunk enough last night to sleep today away, but here I am, looking and feeling like I’ve been pulled through a hedge backwards.
“Jenna,” Mum says, “I know you think we’re all nosey and shouldn’t be butting into your business.”
She’s got that right.
“But we thought we could just have a chat, just between us girls.”
“Why do you need to talk about it? Doesn’t it feel like incest to you guys?”
“Definitely not!” Emma shrieks, earning some disapproving looks from fellow country-club goers, “You were our babies and we loved the idea of you having your soul mate your whole life. We wanted to watch our babies grow up together and have their own.”
That cuts me to the core and I choke on the surge of emotions.
“But why do you need to know? Can't we just figure out whatever this is on our own? Too many cooks and all.”
“What’s going through your head?” Mum asks as I thank the waiter for my orange juice and take a huge mouthful.
“Where are they?” I ask looking around.
“Probably already on the golf course, Jonas couldn't wait to play.” Grace takes a sip of her Bloody Mary and I wince watching her gag.
“I’ve agreed to do the cake stall at the fete.” I say trying to change the subject, but they all look at me with raised eyebrows, “What do you want me to say?!”
My turn to earn get unappreciative looks from the people sitting at the tables around us
. I want to talk to them; I’ve spent the last five and a half years keeping everything bottled up, telling Abbie, Carl and Anthony the bare minimum to dwindle their curiosity as to why I won't fully commit to someone as charming and successful as Kip. It’s wrong. I shouldn’t be talking to my family about Deacon when I’m with someone else, but if I don't give them something they’ll never stop asking. They continue looking at me, knowing I’m going to crack, so I take a deep breath and prepare myself to confide.
“Deacon’s been the one for as long as I can remember.” Shit, that’s too honest, but I can't stop as the words roll off my tongue, “I’ve read in books that when you find that person no one will ever compare, everyone else is just second best. But I can't help feeling like we missed our chance to do it right.”
“There’s no way to do it right, Jen.” Jade says and rubs her eyes under her glasses, “I met Steve two years before we got together. Saw him once and didn’t see him again for exactly seven hundred and thirty days. We could have missed our chance.”
“But you guys are everything. Deacon will get bored, lose interest. I’ve seen it happen and I’ve come back from his rejection once, I can't do it again. All I wanted from him that night was a different reaction, but it shattered me that he had no intention of us even being in the same country. I’m afraid, like I’m standing on a precipice and a tiny step could send me over the edge. I’m terrified. We lost our friendship, the bond that could have overcome anything and I’d rather we argued all the time and I lived with the guilt of lying to Kip, than risk losing him again. He’s my everything, and I can't lose him.”
They are all crying, not all out bawling, but there are tears in their eyes and I know they’re shocked by my honesty; to be honest, so am I. That speech wasn’t what I had when I took a lungful of air to plan what I was going to say.
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