Paradise Road

by C. J. Duggan

  ‘Okay, if you promise me one thing.’

  ‘Oh, look out,’ he said, curving his brow. ‘What’s that?’

  I frowned, ‘Try not to ravish me.’

  Dean burst out laughing, a deep, genuine belly laugh as he nodded before finally managing the words, ‘Okay, I’ll try not to.’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The TV was back on. I lifted my head, squinting at the time on the digital alarm clock: 4 a.m. I saw the blurry silhouette of Dean sitting on the couch in nothing but his boxers. He was watching one of those repetitive infomercials about what looked like some kind of magic blender. I shifted, realising I was underneath the warmth of a blanket. Dean, at some point, must have placed it over me. The fabric of the linen smelt like his aftershave, it kind of added to the cosy, comfy feel, and I was so tired it didn’t take me a moment to roll over and fall back to sleep.

  The next time I stirred, I felt a dip in the mattress. The TV was off and the room was in complete darkness. Dean settled in under the covers, his leg accidentally brushing against mine. He quickly flinched away, stilling and listening to see if he had woken me, but I was already awake, he just didn’t know it. Dean eventually settled, melting into the soft mattress. I waited for his breaths to become even, and for sleep to eventually claim him before I shifted. Slowly peeling off the covers I padded quietly to the bathroom. Wincing against the delicate screech of the hinge, I gently closed the door behind me before I clicked on the light.

  I rinsed my mouth out, brushing my teeth for a second time to get the remnants of stale alcohol from my tastebuds. I looked at my sleepy complexion, my hair dried in a mass of blonde kinky waves, no makeup, a big, black, baggy t-shirt. I breathed out a laugh.

  What a sight.

  I clicked off the light before creeping back to stand in the middle of the darkened room. Looking on at the sleeping bump in the bed, I turned my attention to the apartment door. Now was the time I should probably go. I was sober enough not to make a complete nuisance of myself anymore, I could just creep back to my room, go to sleep, and just like the kiss, pretend that none of this ever happened. And just as that smart, reasonable, respectable thought passed through my mind, I somehow found myself creeping my way back to Dean’s bed, lifting the covers and sliding in underneath, careful not to wake him. I would simply wake up and opt for ignorance, as I confessed my embarrassment over having fallen asleep, using the whole ‘how much had I had to drink?’ spiel.

  I smiled broadly in the dark, snuggling myself into the blankets as I marvelled at my cunning plan. That was, until Dean’s voice pierced through the darkness.

  ‘You just can’t stay away from me, huh?’

  I lifted my head, scowling at the darkened silhouette of his profile, which was a lost cause seeing as he couldn’t see my expression.

  But he could get my meaning when I shoved at his shoulder. ‘Shut up!’ It was like pushing granite, and having lashed out at him only made him laugh all the more.

  ‘Go to bloody sleep,’ I snapped, getting more annoyed with every second he kept laughing at me.

  ‘Keep talking and I will.’

  I sat up, using my pillow as a weapon to whack him hard: once, twice. He defended himself, grabbing the pillow and pulling it away from me. ‘Geeez, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?’

  ‘Fine. Sweet dreams,’ I said, whipping the blankets aside and storming my way to the apartment door.

  ‘Oh, come on, Lexie, don’t be a diva.’

  Dean leapt from the bed, his bare footsteps padding quickly from behind me as he came to slide to an abrupt halt before moving to stand between me and the exit. He was laughing still as he pressed his back to the door. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m just messing around.’

  I folded my arms like a true diva should.

  Dean’s breaths were uneven after having made the dive from the bed to the door with impressive speed. ‘It’s late, you don’t have to go.’

  ‘I don’t know, I’m pretty offended,’ I teased.

  Even in the dark I could make out the brilliant line of his smile; there was enough light filtering in from the city for me to witness the sexiness of something he didn’t do often enough.

  ‘How can I make it up to you?

  His words were filled with meaning, spoken tauntingly, dangling the question in front of me as a way to make me speechless or blush even. But I wasn’t feeling either of those things. My tummy flipped in excitement, and the heat I could feel from his skin was undeniable, he stood so close to me dressed in nothing but boxer shorts. We stood in silence, the longer I drew out my response the bigger the meaning the silence had.

  How can I make it up to you? hung in the air like a promise, put out for me to do with as I wanted. To laugh at it, to be offended by it or to take advantage of it. I could, of course, do the one thing, the right thing and that was to say goodnight, push him aside and go to my room. That would be the decent, grown-up thing to do, but like I had proven tonight, getting drunk on a beach, scrambling up a drainpipe and climbing into a hot man’s window, I was clearly none of those things. And just as I might say something to break the silence, Dean lifted his hand to the side of my face, causing my breath to catch in my throat as he gently swept his thumb over my bottom lip and repeated the question, almost in a whisper.

  ‘How can I make it up to you?’

  And then I realised, I didn’t even have to tell him, I simply had to show him. I stepped closer into him, my breaths gusted across his bare skin as I stared up at him, a kaleidoscope of colours from the city lit the lines of his beautiful face, the smallest of flashes reflected in the dark set of his brooding stare. It was a far more breathtaking view than I had ever seen. It was all he needed to know before he slowly took hold of the fabric of my t-shirt and dragged me up to him, a devilish, cocky smirk lining his lips just before he met me part way, hungrily claiming my mouth.

  There was something so intense about being shielded in the dark with a man like Dean, to feel the vulnerability of his breathing change whenever I did something right, when I gently slid my arms along his toned torso, splayed my hands across his back or tortuously pushed my fingers through to divide the thick folds of his hair. I opened myself up to him, tilting my head to the side to gain access to his beautiful mouth. I moved to link my arms around his neck, to anchor myself to him in some way, but he had other ideas as he grabbed my wrists, spinning me around so fast he pinned my arms on either side of my head, caging me in as he kissed me with wicked intent, pushing his leg between my thighs, creating the perfect friction. The feeling of Dean’s shirt I was wearing rubbing against my nipples as he pressed against me was only a small part of the incredible torture he was inflicting on me as I rocked and groaned against his body. What was with us and doors, I mused, recalling the last time I had been lost in Dean’s arms. I playfully bit his shoulder, causing him to push back and frown down on me with that cheeky smile.

  ‘You don’t play fair,’ he said and before I could argue that I was actually the one pinned against the door, Dean scooped me up. Wrapping my legs around him, walking me to the bed, he moaned into my mouth, discovering I was wearing no panties. Sitting down on the edge of the bed as I straddled him, he made quick work to peel my t-shirt off, in one fluent swoop, causing my hair to tumble and fall over my shoulders and breasts. He gently brushed my hair from my shoulders and his eyes devoured the delicate view of my naked body. The way he looked at me made me feel like the most beautiful woman alive. His mouth was on mine again, his tongue delving and teasing my own as he placed his hands behind my knees and dragged me closer to him, grinding on his hardness. Dean’s hands skimmed up my back. Grasping my shoulders he tilted me back so his mouth had access to the hardened, pebbled peaks. One at a time he feasted with his swirling hot tongue, eliciting a foreign sound from me I barely recognised as I rocked into him. It wasn’t enough, none of it would be enough. I was close but not close enough. I could feel his hardness grind into me through the infuriatin
g, thin barrier of his boxers.

  ‘These,’ I breathed against his mouth, as I flicked at the elastic band of his boxer briefs, ‘have to go.’ Dean smiled against my kiss.

  ‘I thought you would never ask.’

  Dean shifted me from him. I rolled onto my back, trying to catch my breath as I watched him stand by the side of the bed, removing the final barrier; his naked silhouette made my heart beat faster. Oh God, this was happening, this was really happening. The bed dipped as Dean climbed up my body, kissing a blistering trail up to my mouth, before pausing. He leant over, tapping the side lamp into a low light.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked, panicked, covering my breasts.

  Dean smiled, lowering his mouth and kissing me so softly, so sweetly, I almost forgot my question … almost.

  ‘I want to see you.’ Dean kissed my neck, moving back down my body, gently pulling my hands aside. I bit my lip and covered my eyes, ready to die of embarrassment feeling so exposed to him. My mind was reeling, panicking at the thought of him seeing me like … Oh my God.

  Dean’s head disappeared between my thighs, kissing me, licking me, devouring me in a maddening rhythm that caused my back to arch and all worries of dignity to flee my mind as his fingers dug into my thighs, pinning me to the mattress. I hitched myself onto my elbows, looking down at Dean doing the most wicked things to the most intimate part of me, and then he did something even more wicked: he looked up at me, locked me with his eyes, full of hunger as he relentlessly teased, and nipped and … thank God the light was on as I looked right into his eyes. He must have read me, read my sounds because he worked my body like a musical instrument, pressing and pulling in exactly the right places, until I collapsed back, arching and grabbing at the sheets, trying to move away from him, but he torturously held me in place until I was screaming, begging, falling, falling, falling … BANG!

  I jolted awake, breathing heavily, blinking as I tried to claim back some semblance of what was happening. The bang was that of the apartment door that Dean had walked through with two take-away coffees.

  ‘Shit, sorry.’ He paused, taking in my panicked state. ‘You okay?’

  My hands flew up to my shoulders. I looked down to see I was dressed, in the black t-shirt, but not naked.

  What the hell? Oh no-no-no… Go back to sleep, Lexie.

  ‘Bad dream?’ Dean asked, offering me a polystyrene cup of what smelt like coffee. I wanted it but my hands were trembling too much to take it. Dean’s concern deepened as he placed the coffee on the side table and sat on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Jesus, Lex, you’re burning up.’ Dean touched my forehead, which only caused me to flinch away out of his bed, the after effects of my hotter-than-hell dream still affecting me.

  ‘I just, um, don’t feel well.’

  ‘The coffee will help the hangover.’ He watched me.

  Funnily enough, despite my alcohol consumption, it wasn’t a hangover I was suffering from.

  I swallowed. ‘No, I’m okay, I just … had a dream.’

  ‘Must have been some dream.’ Dean blew on his coffee before taking a sip, his eyes lifting to me in a way that really didn’t help settle my rampant hormones.

  ‘It was very … real,’ I managed, barely able to look at his face without the vision of him settled between my thighs. ‘Um, so what happened last night, exactly?’ I shifted awkwardly in my makeshift nightie.

  Dean laughed. ‘Well, if you don’t remember, I’m not going to tell you.’

  At the moment I was trying to decipher which was dream and which was reality.

  ‘I was locked out, I climbed a drainpipe, had a shower and crashed in your bed?’ I asked the question as if I was patchy on the particulars.

  Dean stood, moving over to the kitchen. ‘Yeah, so just your usual Friday night shenanigans then.’ He chucked his cup in the bin and turned to me. ‘This is beginning to be a bit of a habit of yours.’

  I crossed my arms, aware that I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, and even with the t-shirt being longer than what my school dress was, in the light of day I did feel completely exposed. ‘Yeah, well, it’s not my usual behaviour,’ I admitted.

  ‘No?’ Dean raised a sexy eyebrow as he leant against the kitchen bench.

  ‘No, I mean, I usually climb through windows on Saturday nights.’

  Dean smirked, rubbing his unshaven jawline. ‘I see.’

  ‘So, um, on that note, thanks for the coffee, and the loan of the shirt, and for not letting me fall to my death.’ I gave him an awkward thumbs up as I moved to the door, a door that Dean met me at, grabbing the handle and opening it for me. It was a very different version from my dream.

  ‘Thanks for the entertainment,’ he said, leaning casually on the opened door. I paused in the doorway, biting my lip knowing I would instantly regret what I was about to say, but what the hell. I spun around. ‘Nothing happened, like, last night, I mean with you … and … me?’ I could feel my cheeks burn as I rather eloquently asked the question.

  A devious sparkle in Dean’s eyes matched that of the familiar cocky set to his crooked smile. ‘Lexie, if anything had happened last night, believe me, you would remember.’

  Oh God, why did he have to sound so bloody sexy. How was I supposed to respond to that? I broke away from his gaze, clearing my throat as I turned to walk down the hall. ‘Very good.’

  It was only a short distance to my room down the hall, but when you’re leaving Dean Saville’s apartment in the early hours of the morning wearing nothing but his t-shirt, well, it brought a whole new meaning to the term ‘walk of shame’.

  I could feel his eyes burning into the back of me, no doubt loving every minute of this. Never so glad to see my own bedroom door, I was ready to dive through it when Dean called out to me.

  ‘Hey, Lexie.’

  My heart stopped, turning to see him still standing in his opened doorway. It was like I was now looking at him for the first time – the jeans, the grey T, his hair still damp and tousled from his morning shower, a shower he probably took when I was busy having sordid, sexy dreams about him. I lifted my chin, trying not to think about how much my heart was pounding against my chest when he spoke my name.

  ‘What?’ I asked, thinking maybe he was going to say something meaningful. The way he was looking at me sure didn’t help the heart palpitations as I swallowed deeply.

  ‘Listen, do you think you could grab a bag of ice for the bar when you head down.’

  What?

  Okay, so I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting but that was certainly not it. I could feel my back straighten as an air of annoyance swept over me, disguised by my sickly sweet smile.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, thinking, well, if I was heading to the cool room at least I wouldn’t need to take a cold shower. Sometimes you just had to look for the silver lining in every cloud, right?

  Chapter Forty-Six

  ‘What do you mean, you might stay here? Mum and Dad are going to be home Tuesday.’ Amanda sat on the edge of my bed, looking around my room in horror.

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ I said, folding up my clothes from the washing basket.

  ‘Lexie, it’s a tomb. I think people have died in here.’

  I rolled my eyes; Amanda, forever the drama queen.

  ‘Speaking of dying, thanks for chaperoning me safely to my door last night,’ I smirked at her.

  ‘Yeah, well, you didn’t answer your phone. I thought I better check you were alive. I see you made it in okay.’

  My mind flashed back to me climbing up the drainpipe. ‘Yep,’ I said, trying not to let the waves of embarrassment consume me. Seriously, that was it, no more drinking!

  Amanda was still giving my room the once-over with her Judgey McJudgment eyes. ‘I knew there wasn’t any apartment. You just told your parents that so they’d let you stay,’ she scoffed.

  ‘Well, it’s not entirely untrue. There’s an apartment. It’s just not mine,’ I said with a laugh.

  ‘Wow, who�
�d have thought you would go to such lengths.’ Amanda scrunched her face up at the flaky ceiling. ‘You would seriously give up a pool, Pay TV, 1000 thread count sheets, and a house near Ballantine, for Arcadia Lane.’

  ‘I’m not giving up anything,’ I snapped.

  The mention of Ballantine hit a nerve. I hadn’t heard from him since that night in the alley, and although that wasn’t surprising, I feared all promises of together forever and happily ever after were completely out of reach, and with my head being in a constant state of confusion I didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

  Amanda sighed, walking to stand beside me, grabbing a towel and folding it, in the first piece of manual labour I had seen from her in, well, ever.

  ‘You need to choose, Lexie,’ she said, placing the folded square on the pile with a friendly tap. ‘You can have it all: live here, there, work, don’t work … the world’s your oyster.’

  ‘What, wet and shrivelled?’ I joked.

  ‘He wants to be with you. You just have to decide.’ Amanda looked at me pointedly before moving to the door.

  ‘Decide?’

  ‘Boy from the ’burbs, or boy from the city?’

  ‘Wait, who wants to be with me?’

  Amanda shrugged. ‘Work it out.’ She opened the door and stepped through it. ‘See ya.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ I said, stepping after her. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Amanda laughed. ‘Sorry luv, gotta go, I’m late for a very important date.’ Amanda winked as she hit the staircase. I would have chased her all the way down Arcadia Lane demanding that she explain, but I was once again brought up short.

  ‘Lexie.’ I stilled, turning to the sound of Dean’s voice coming from his office.

  ‘Did you get that ice?’ Dean asked, his tone non-negotiable.

  I watched from the top of the landing as Amanda sashayed out of the Wipe Out Bar.

  Damn it! I spun around, completely annoyed. ‘Why can’t Cassie –’

  ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ Dean sighed. ‘Does everything have to be an argument with you?’