So our little display tonight was a bit obvious. Her dad was on to us. Her friends were all just as drunk so I doubt they noticed. The ones who weren’t, like Lori, or Alisa, or Hunter, hell they saw every move she made on me, and I on her.
Shit…I could care less if an announcement was made. It’s her I worry about. She will not be happy when she hears how she came on to me tonight, or how I responded with so many witnesses.
While carrying her up the stairs, she starts mumbling incoherently. I set her down and dig for her keys when she starts to come to.
“Where are we?” her words come out in a slur.
“Your place,” I respond, while trying to hold her up and open her damn door. I finally get it open and walk her inside. Just as I flip on some lights, Miss Marino catches her second wind.
“You staying the night?” she asks seductively. She pulls away and stumbles slightly, but she still manages to pull her shirt over her head.
Oh my God…
As if in slow motion, she reaches behind and unzips her skirt. It falls and sweet Jesus, what the fuck is she wearing? She is practically naked in a pink lace bra and matching boy shorts! I love those damn things. She’s still wearing her heels, too. A raging hard-on immediately springs to life in my jeans.
Oh fuck.
“Leila, stop.” I say moving toward her.
Just as I bend to pick up her clothes, she grabs my face and shoves her tongue into my mouth.
She is killing me…she is fucking killing me!
When I pull away, she pleads, “Hey I want to kissssss you some moore. You always taste sooo good Jack.”
Aw, fuck…
Holding her head, I wait until she looks at me, forcing her to focus on my words. “Let’s get you into your room.”
She smiles wide and saunters toward her bedroom. The sight of her walking down the hall in her bra and sheer panties gives me a nice glimpse of her fantastic ass and causes my dick to twitch.
I adjust myself and follow while thinking this is the worst form of torture. It’s worse than kissing her at my party, and then having to walk away. The second I flip on her lights, she turns and starts to unhook her bra. I know if I just get her in bed, she will pass out. I frantically start opening drawers, looking for something to throw on her body…her practically naked, smoking hot body. Finding an oversized sweatshirt just as her bra falls to the floor, I grip it in my hands, dumbstruck from the sight of topless Leila.
I can’t stop looking at her. I’ve had plenty of sex dreams about Leila these past few months, but nothing, nothing compares to her in the flesh. She is absolutely gorgeous. Her breasts, her tight stomach, the slope of her hips, her legs are all perfect. The best part is her sheer panties afford me a glimpse of her smooth shaven pussy. Holy fuck, this is another complete turn on for me.
She’s fucking perfection.
I can’t do this.
“Jack,” she says looking at me like she wants to attack. “I love you. I want you and I know you want me too.” Her gaze is smoldering as she focuses on the obvious bulge in my pants. Smiling wickedly, she seductively licks her lips and then sways unsteadily. I’m smart enough to know she’s too drunk to know what she’s saying. But her words still have an immediate effect on me.
“I do babe, but not like this.”
“I love when you call me babe.” She steps closer, gripping my t-shirt in between her fingers.
Fuck.
I quickly drag the sweatshirt over her head, maneuver her arms through the sleeves, pull back the comforter, lift her onto her bed and cover her to her chin, all in record time.
As I turn to walk out of the room, she sits up. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back,” I respond, while flipping off her light and moving toward her living room. If my calculations are correct, she will be passed out in less than sixty seconds.
Hopefully.
Her phone suddenly rings, and I jump up to grab it off the coffee table.
“Hello?” I keep my voice low.
“Jack? It’s Anthony Marino. Is Leila ok?”
“Yes sir. I just put her to bed. She’s out cold.”
“I just got all the boys in cabs. I’ll be there in a few minutes to stay with her.” He probably doesn’t trust me and I can’t say I blame him.
“That’s fine, but you don’t have to. I’ll stay tonight and make sure she’s ok. I’ll leave in the morning. I promise I’ll take good care of her, sir.” I hope that I can convince him to trust me.
There’s a pause, until he answers, “Ok. Please tell her to call me as soon as she is up. And um, thanks Jack.”
Waiting a few minutes, I quietly walk down the hall to peek in. Thankfully, she is out cold. As a parting gift, she suddenly flips off the comforter and turns on her stomach with her gorgeous ass totally exposed in her sexy lace panties. Soft snores are the only sounds she makes.
“Fuck, this is torture.”
I have two options—rub one out or cold shower.
Unfortunately rubbing one out may still leave me with a hard-on and a bad case of blue balls. The cold shower is my only real option. Sighing heavily, I step into the ice-cold stream of water and kill my hard on instantly.
Fucking torture.
All night, I’ve drifted in and out of a very depthless sleep. All the admissions she subconsciously released in her drunken state swirl in my head.
“You make me hot.”
“I love when you call me babe.”
“Kiss me, Jack.”
“You glamour me.”
“I want you, and I know you want me.”
“I love you.”
I feel like I found a key to her diary and shamelessly read every secret she wrote down. This night felt like it was twenty-four hours long.
Once I finally hear her use her bathroom, or more specifically emptying her stomach into her toilet, I get up off the couch, throw on my jeans, and go into her kitchen. I consider checking on her but I’m sure she would prefer her privacy at the moment. I have her coffee maker running by the time she emerges from her bathroom.
Leila slowly enters the room wearing a tank top and short shorts. Her hair is adorably messy. Other than looking a bit green, you wouldn’t know she’s hung over.
“Hi. How do you feel?”
“Sssshhh!”
“Sorry.”
“It’s ok.” She points to her bathroom, “I’m sure you heard. I do feel better now. My head hurts, and I have cotton mouth but otherwise I think I’m ok.” She walks over to her table and sits down. Her eyes rake over my shirtless torso while she fiddles with the hem of her tank top.
“Where do you keep your aspirin?”
She points to a cabinet in the corner. I retrieve two pills, and then turn to her fridge to pull out a bottle of water and a Diet Coke. Opening them, I walk over and pass them to her.
“Drink and take these, Coke first.”
She doesn’t argue and does as instructed. “Thank you for staying.”
“You’re welcome.”
I walk back into her kitchen, open her freezer and pull out frozen bagels. She looks at me with raised eyebrows.
“You need to eat some bread.” I explain as I drop a bagel into her toaster. While waiting for the toaster to pop, I watch Leila sitting quietly and struggling with her own thoughts. I pour myself coffee, butter her bagel and carry them over to her at the table.
“Eat,” I demand.
“Yes, sir.” She takes a small bite out of her bagel. “You have a lot of experience with tequila hangovers?”
“You could say that. Did you have fun last night?”
“Yes I did, I think. I don’t remember a lot of it.” She gets very quiet again and begins to gnaw on her bottom lip.
“What’s wrong?”
“Jack…um, did I…um…did I try to seduce you last night?” She looks totally embarrassed.
“Yes,” I respond, truthfully.
“Did we do anything?” she asks lookin
g up at me.
I wish I could say I wanted to, or that we did and it was mind numbing. Instead I say, “No, we didn’t, just a lot of flirting at the bar. Once we got here, you tried to kiss me, and I saw you in your underwear but that’s it.” I’m unable to hide the anguish I felt last night in my voice.
“Flirting at the bar? Oh crap.” She slumps forward, putting her head in her hands. I understand why that’s what upsets her the most. She is a very private person, and I can only imagine how she feels right now.
Trying to lighten the mood, I say, “You snore.”
“I do not,” she defensively retorts.
“Yes you do. You snore like a lumberjack and you curse like a sailor. You have a real bad potty mouth.”
“Liar.”
Laughing I watch as she nibbles on her bagel. “I used your shower last night. I hope that’s ok.”
“Of course. I hope that couch was ok.”
“Yes, it’s actually very comfortable.”
“The boys love that couch. I can’t get them off of it when they come over.”
“I can’t say I blame them.” I can picture four guys sprawled on her couch. “I take it that the chair is your favorite spot?”
She looks over her shoulder. “Yes, it’s the only corner of my apartment that has a view.” I stand and walk over to admire it.
“It is beautiful. I guess this your roof?”
She understands my reference. “Yes. I guess that it is.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Your dad wants you to call him,” I say, remembering my instructions.
“My dad? You spoke to him?” she asks, looking confused and worried.
“He called last night. I think he was checking on me more than he was checking on you.”
She shakes her head and grabs her phone. Her conversation is only a few minutes long. She doesn’t leave the room, and I’m flattered she feels comfortable to talk to him in front of me. She asks if he checked on Evan and listens while he talks for a few minutes. She agrees to something he says and at the end of her conversation she says, “Yeah, he is,” while looking over at me and blushing. She tells her dad she loves him and hangs up.
“Yeah, he is what?” I ask dying of curiosity. She looks at me confused and I ask, “You said to your dad Yeah, he is. What am I?”
“A great guy.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Oh…I thought you were admitting that I was still here.”
“Oh. Well he didn’t ask but if he did I probably wouldn’t lie,” she admits, giving me a dazzling smile.
She takes my breath away. I need to spend time with her. I just can’t leave yet. I walk back over sit at the table and ask, “What are your plans today?”
“Nothing exciting. I need to get my car from the bar. Saturdays are laundry days, and since I’m no longer a member of Cliffhangers, I’m off tonight.”
“Want to show me how great Hoboken is?” I ask.
She smiles wide. “Sure, I’d love to. Do you like cannoli? We have the best there is,” she says, proudly.
“I love cannoli.”
“Give me fifteen minutes to get ready.”
“Wait. Finish your bagel.”
“You’re so bossy.” She finishes her bagel and heads for the bedroom. For two point five seconds I’m left wondering if this is a good idea. Then I argue with myself that I simply don’t care.
After I use her bathroom to freshen up, I send a quick text to Hunter to tell him I’m hanging out with Leila today.
Of course he responds immediately.
jack…what are you doing?
i’m hanging out with Leila
yeah, you said that…dude?
bye hunter
Fucking Hunter…I should have never told him my secret. I’m already regretting it. His text resurfaces my qualms, and my brain tells me to listen. I should tell her that I can’t stay and leave before I do something I will regret.
I’m about to do just that when she comes out in her shorts, pink top, hair in a ponytail, and tan legs…and my brain goes numb.
You would never know that she was drunk off her ass last night. She looks so gorgeous, effectively causing me throw all logic out the fucking window.
“You clean up well. I look like death after a tequila night.”
“You’re blind. I do look like death. Ready?”
After retrieving her car, Leila showed me every inch of Hoboken. It’s a quaint town, and I can understand the attraction. We spent hours sitting in a park on the Hudson, watching the boats go by. We laughed at all the countless dogs and their owners who morphed into look-a-likes. Late in the day, we decided to grab a pizza, some of Hoboken’s famous cannoli and go back to her place.
As I set her table, she pulls out a beer and some cheap wine for herself. It feels so natural to be with her. We really had a nice day, and there were times I wanted to hold her hand as we were walking along the river. I could get used to this. I enjoy being with her. This realization no longer scares me. What scares me more is being apart.
Chapter Twenty-One
Leila
“I probably shouldn’t be drinking so much today. My body just recovered.”
“The second best hangover remedy besides aspirin and Coke, is to keep drinking.” He taps his beer can to my glass.
I giggle and respond, “Good advice.”
I feel so relaxed and comfortable sitting here with him. His arm is stretched along the back of the couch, and he is lazily playing with my ponytail.
After relentlessly grilling him to tell me how I acted last night at the bar, he finally gave me details of my over the top flirting. Crap, I told him he glamour’s me! I grabbed his thighs! I kissed his neck! From the look on his face, he was purposefully withholding some other details.
No more tequila for me.
I will most definitely have some damage control to deal with when I see Dad and Lori. I’ll worry about that tomorrow. Evan was plastered, so I doubt he remembers my behavior.
He playfully tugs on my ponytail and asks, “Where’s my cannoli?”
“Oh yeah, cannoli time.” I bounce up and run to the fridge to grab the box.
He laughs at my enthusiasm as I bring them over to where we are sitting. “Prepare yourself, these are life altering.”
“Can’t wait.” He reaches in and picks up two of them, one of which he hands to me.
We both bite down at the same time. “It is delicious.”
Savoring my bite, I close my eyes and moan, “Mmmmm. It’s so good.”
When I open my eyes, I’m surprised to see Jack staring at me with a heated look on his face. Reaching over, he slowly wipes his thumb across my bottom lip, sending a jolt right through me. He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks off the cream he removed from my lip. The cannoli I am holding is the last thing on my mind as I drop it back into the box, and it lands with a thump.
“Delicious.”
We continue to stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, and with each passing second my heart beats louder and louder in my chest. He removes the box from my lap, drops his cannoli in and puts the box on the table. He holds my face and slowly pulls me in until we are inches apart. In slow motion, he pulls me in closer until our mouths touch.
Our kiss starts off soft and slow. When he slides his tongue along my top lip, I open my mouth giving him complete access. Accepting my invitation, his slips in further to taste me slowly. We make out like teenagers and it’s the best make out session I’ve ever had in my life.
I finally gasp for breath and pull away. “I need to catch my breath.”
He releases my head and takes my hands. “Leila, if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”
“What happened to being friends?”
“It’s not enough.”
“I’m scared things will get complicated between us.”
“I won’t let it.”
He pulls me into his embrace and kisses the top my head. “Leila, I want you to kno
w something before anything happens. I can’t stop thinking about you. Since my party, you have consumed my thoughts. You have taken over my life.”
I turn in his arms so I can see his face better. His confession has me reeling. “Jack, don’t say things like that to me.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t recover.”
“Baby, I mean every word.”
Tilting his head down, he kisses me softly on my lips. Weeks and weeks of holding back, of hiding my feeling, of denying my feelings for him all come flooding to the surface. I kiss him back harder, clutching his shirt between my fingers to force him to move his lips against mine and respond to my kiss.
Jack does respond by drawing me into his hard body and making love to my lips with his own. He lays me back on the couch and slips his hand under my tank. Slowly, he moves it up my body until it reaches my breast, skimming his thumb on the underside of my bra. He pulls away and watches for my reaction.
“I want you, Leila. I can’t fight this any longer.” He stops and waits for my consent. “Please, I want to be with you.”
“I want that too, but it’s complicated. Our working relationship, the tour, it’s all too complicated.”
“Stop over thinking it.”
When I remain silent, he starts kissing me slowly at first but then it quickly builds, escalating to the point we are writhing against each other on the couch.
Breaking our kiss, I rasp, “I know what you’re doing.”
He stands and pulls me off the couch, wrapping his arms around me. His hands find my lower back.
“What are you afraid of, Leila?”
“What will be left of me when it ends.”
“Why does it have to end?”
He’s right. Who goes into a relationship already worrying about how it will end. I can’t continue down the friend path anyway… while living with him, or being with him. That is no longer an option. In my mind, I’ve crossed over that line weeks ago. I had no idea he had as well.
Bottom line, I want him. I need him.
“Leila, I want to be with you. Do you feel the same?”
As he continues to wait for my response, my decision is already made. What I’m about to do will change everything. I’m done hiding how I feel. I’m done playing games. Pulling him down to lightly kiss him, I whisper, “Yes.”
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7) Page 109